Late Night Training

Returning to the vicinity of the cave, Lei Fang began constructing a fence from branches, tying the joints together with the roots of those white plants. It looked remarkably sturdy.

Before nightfall, the two of them finished the fence and set it up across the cave entrance.

This measure would effectively block some medium and large animals, including sizable snakes. At the very least, they need not worry about meeting their end unawares while asleep.

Inside the cave, darkness reigned.

The two picked up coconuts wedged in the cracks of the rock, their tops already cut open, and ate them as their evening meal.

They managed to fill their stomachs, and the surroundings grew still.

Only the occasional chirp of insects echoed in their ears.

“Let’s sleep. We’ve done enough for today…” Lei Fang yawned, stretched, and lay straight down on a pile of dry leaves beside him.

It served as a rather simple bed.

Kashu did the same, stretching out to rest.

Before the screen, Xiu Nan rose from his chair and stretched in the space between the bed and the bedroom wall.

He picked up his phone and went downstairs to buy some food.

It was about one-thirty in the afternoon; what he’d eaten in the morning had long since been digested.

Half an hour later, toothpick between his teeth and thoroughly content, Xiu Nan opened his front door. He washed his face in the bathroom and took an apple from a box in the corner.

Munching as he went, he sat back down at his desk.

On the screen, Kashu was in light sleep. In the upper right corner, a simplified brain icon was slowly rising—clearly, sleep was effectively restoring his spirit.

The moment Xiu Nan put on his headphones, he could hear Lei Fang’s thunderous snoring beside him, loud as a storm.

Honestly, wouldn’t such a racket attract wild beasts from the forest, if any lived nearby?

“Press ‘F’ to wake up Kashu.”

The keyboard clicked.

Kashu woke slowly, carefully rising from his bed of leaves. He walked to the cave’s entrance and gently opened a gap in the fence.

He slipped out, back pressed flat against the rock wall, and closed it behind him.

In the distance, darkness stretched on, but fortunately, the cave was situated on a small hill. The trees weren’t dense enough to block the moonlight.

Looking up, he saw clouds like tufts of cotton clustering around the rising moon. The silvery disk was haloed by a faint yellow glow, its neighbors faint, receding stars. Tranquility spilled with the silvery mist of moonlight over the clearing in the woods.

Simply standing in the moonlight and feeling the cool night breeze, a profound quietude and peace welled up in his heart.

Atop the hill, a figure was moving up and down with feverish intensity, his breathing growing heavier and more labored, sweat dripping from his hair.

“One hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four, one hundred and five…”

Kashu was doing push-ups—Xiu Nan was determined not to waste a single moment of his “fifteen days of self-discipline.”

After all, Kashu had limitless energy and stamina; staying awake all night was no issue. As for concepts like muscle tears or rhabdomyolysis, Xiu Nan reckoned such things didn’t exist in a game world.

As the character exercised, the screen was flooded with prompts:

“Congratulations, you completed push-up: 1.”

“Tip: a truly disciplined man is terrifying, so your total push-ups are now multiplied by 30.”

“Congratulations, you completed push-up: 30.”

…

“You completed push-up: 3150.”

“You completed push-up: 3180.”

“You completed push-up: 3210.”

As the number of push-ups increased, Xiu Nan’s movements became more precise, more scientifically correct.

All of this was thanks to the fifteen days of self-discipline effect.

[Effect 5. State Solidification: During the fifteen days of self-discipline, the system will automatically lock in your optimal training results. ‘Optimal training result’ is now your baseline.]

In other words, Kashu’s form would only grow more perfect, and his results only improve.

His lower limit was now identical to his upper limit.

After only a short time training, Kashu mastered the essentials of the push-up: tense the legs, place the hands shoulder-width apart, palms pressed to the ground, tighten the glutes and abdominal muscles. Keep the body parallel to the ground, rise slowly, then lower.

“You completed push-up: 4470.”

“You completed push-up: 4500.”

Kashu stopped training. He had done five sets, one hundred and fifty push-ups in total. Multiplied by thirty, this became four thousand five hundred—a staggering increase.

He then moved on to other exercises, including but not limited to squats, pull-ups, bridges, lying leg raises, and handstand presses. Most could be done with just bodyweight, a few required tree trunks or branches for support.

These exercises came from a book Kashu had read, supposedly created by someone who spent nineteen years in prison, refining the most ancient fitness regimen.

There were six disciplines and ten techniques, each category further subdivided to train different muscle groups.

Supposedly, reaching the pinnacle of this training would yield the following results:

Push-ups: chest as strong as armor and triceps of iron.

Pull-ups: a back broad as a warehouse door and biceps like cannons.

Squats: thighs like elevators.

Leg raises: devilish six-pack abs.

Bridge: a spine ready for anything.

Handstand presses: shoulders healthy and powerful.

The effects sounded exaggerated, likely not so miraculous. The advantage was that it suited beginners, offered clear progress goals, built practical muscle, and strengthened joints and tendons.

There were downsides, too; some movements weren’t entirely reasonable. But with Kashu’s infinite energy, stamina, perfect focus, creative bursts, and state solidification, perhaps he truly could attain such results—achieving the limits of human physique!

From there, time leapt forward. So long as there was no danger, time acceleration would not pause.

Xiu Nan used this interval to draft the opening of the next chapter on his phone, lying in bed.

He excelled at making use of scattered moments.

Half an hour later, sunlight poured in through the window. Xiu Nan took a sip of water, rubbed his eyes, and sat down again at his desk.

On screen, darkness was fading. The sun slowly rose above the horizon, releasing a myriad of rays.

“After a night’s training, Assassin Kashu’s physique has improved greatly. Please keep it up.”

A message quickly flashed across the screen.

Kashu returned to the cave, opened a corner of the fence, and lay down inside.

Moments later, Lei Fang awoke.

He didn’t disturb Kashu but slipped out quietly. When he returned, he carried a piece of roasted snake meat, its edges charred.

The snake flesh was topped with the leaves and roots of some kind of plant—apparently a kind of wild seasoning.

“Hey, partner, wake up.”

Lei Fang roused Kashu and handed him half the snake meat—a simple breakfast.

“Eat up, the parasites inside have been killed by the heat of the fire. Oh, right, I don’t think I’ve taught you how to make a fire yet. I’ll show you at noon…”