The martial arts training ground at City Experimental High School.
Andrew Han took a deep breath, dazedly holding a small booklet—the very one that recorded the martial technique Raging Downpour.
At this moment, his feelings were indescribably strange.
"These techniques must be extremely valuable."
"But my master, Miles Ning, actually has so many of these? Why does it feel like a wholesale market... Well, that's fine. Of the seven manuals, the one that suits me best is probably Raging Downpour."
Andrew Han pursed his lips.
The Raging Downpour technique is all about relentless, ferocious strikes—unceasing and uninterrupted, like a torrential rain pounding the earth. No matter if the ground is shattered, the downpour continues without pause or mercy.
Simply put, it's a series of powerful blows delivered with method and rhythm.
Whoosh.
Andrew Han turned to the first page.
On the cover of the booklet was a perfectly shaped raindrop, but its delicate appearance belied a fierce momentum, as if it were crashing onto the earth with relentless force—falling without regret, falling without end.
In that instant, a surge of emotion welled up in his heart.
Unable to help himself, Andrew Han threw a straight punch, then drew back to his waist, gathered his strength, and punched again... He continued for over a hundred straight punches before finally stopping.
Strong!
I’m actually this strong!
Andrew Han’s face lit up with joy, but Miles Ning’s expression was somber. He scoffed, “That was just a random flurry of punches without any technique. Do you really think you’re a raging storm? Come here, let me teach you the basics of exerting and retracting force.”
And another thing.
When using a technique, remember to adapt to the situation. Standing still is a death sentence.
Time passed, and in the blink of an eye, three days had gone by.
At the City Experimental School’s martial arts training ground, Andrew Han moved with a blank expression, his movements in sync with the Raging Downpour technique as he unleashed a series of powerful straight punches.
A hoarse, aged voice barked in his ear: “Are those legs of yours just for show? If you think lifting them is too much trouble, I’ll break them for you, free of charge.”
Andrew’s right foot suddenly retreated, then his left leg sprang up like a coiled spring, making his pant leg tremble. Next, his feet and fists alternated in rhythm, his mind continually flashing through the training diagrams for Raging Downpour, growing ever more skilled.
By now, Andrew Han understood why Miles Ning looked down on those mere moves and strikes—they lacked meaning, only manipulating brute force.
A true technique is a synthesis of strength, emotion, and spirit.
It’s truly the embodiment of giving your all.