Chapter 58: Tempering and Honing, Sharpen the Edge

After signing the contract, Qian Zheng eagerly wanted to learn the secret of becoming strong in two months from Su Jie, proposing to start training immediately. The four of them went to a separate, quiet training venue equipped with various gear.

“How should I train for quick results?” Qian Zheng asked.

Hua Xing watched Su Jie with interest, curious about how his methods differed from the national team’s. The national team couldn’t turn a clueless teenager into an expert in two months.

“Do you want to improve physical fitness or focus on fighting?” Su Jie asked.

“Both,” Qian Zheng replied instantly.

“Then we’ll do hard conditioning,” Su Jie said, recalling how Odell trained him. “Follow me for a warm-up.”

He began Odell’s joint exercises, with Qian Zheng mimicking. “Is this… Tai Chi?” Qian Zheng doubted the slow movements but followed. After finishing, he was stunned as Su Jie led him through martial drills: push-ups, squats, planks, frog jumps, jump rope, pull-ups, wall crawls, and more.

Ten minutes in, Qian Zheng was gasping, vision blurring. “Can’t… can’t go on… need a break…”

“This is just the warm-up. I’ve reduced my usual load by three times for you,” Su Jie shook his head. “This routine preheats every muscle and joint, filling them with lactic acid. That’s what makes hard conditioning effective. Without lactic acid buildup, striking practice would harm soft tissues.”

Su Jie demonstrated, flowing through high-intensity movements effortlessly, leaving Hua Xing stunned. 

Sweating, Su Jie stripped off his shirt, revealing a chiseled torso.

“Holy crap!” Ning Zixi blurted, her school beauty persona slipping. Only expletives could capture her shock at Su Jie’s physique.

His muscles weren’t bulky but perfectly defined, glistening with sweat, a bronze tint on smooth, fair skin. 

‘Indestructible Vajra Body! Shaolin Bronze Skin,’ Qian Zheng thought, recalling martial arts novels.

“Damn,” Hua Xing muttered inwardly.

Su Jie’s physique wasn’t always this striking, but Nie family’s secret ointment, combined with massage, acupuncture, and electric stimulation, had transformed him. The Nie family historically served the imperial palace, crafting health regimens for emperors. 

Liu Guanglie of Minglun Martial Arts Academy, once a Shaolin disciple, collaborated with them to develop traditional fitness formulas, refined with modern medicine into ointments and tonics.

Though Su Jie was a test subject for Nie Shuang and Uncle Mang, he reaped real benefits.

“I’m gonna pass out,” Qian Zheng collapsed after battle ropes, lying motionless, uncaring even if threatened with a knife.

“Too weak. Get up!” Su Jie adopted a coach’s tone, knowing this was a test of willpower. Giving up now meant no hope for hard conditioning later. But no matter how he urged or pulled Qian Zheng up, it was futile—he’d do a few moves and collapse again, a puddle of mud.

“Bro, slow down. You can’t get fat in one bite,” Qian Zheng begged, his rich-kid swagger gone.

“Su Jie, this explosive overload could cause sudden death. Even the national team doesn’t start like this. Stop,” Hua Xing frowned.

“It’s fine. This is limit training, and the initial sequence gradually opens cardiopulmonary function,” Su Jie waved off. “I can tell his body’s okay. This is about mental grit. Without strong will, the next step is impossible.”

Qian Zheng couldn’t pass this martial drill, let alone hard conditioning.

“Tomorrow… let’s try tomorrow. I need a breather,” Qian Zheng pleaded.

“Then I can’t help you,” Su Jie sighed. 

Even the best coach needs a willing student. In this state, even Odell couldn’t help.

‘My stamina was worse than Qian Zheng’s back then, yet I endured Odell’s training. Why can’t he? Is my willpower naturally stronger, or is my drive for martial arts greater?’ Su Jie pondered, watching Qian Zheng rest.

“Let’s spar,” Hua Xing invited. “I didn’t go all out earlier. Show me your real skill.”

“Perfect,” Su Jie said, eager to apply mechanics insights from billiards to his “Hoe Strike.”

Bang! 

They clashed, fists and feet flying.

“What’s this?” Hua Xing felt a force tilting him forward after a strike, unable to retreat or dodge. 

Su Jie’s new insight was working—a refined “Hoe Strike” with subtle changes.

‘Hua Xing’s the real deal,’ Su Jie realized during the fight. At Minglun Martial Arts Academy, only Feng Hengyi surpassed him in sparring. As a retired national-level fighter, Hua Xing was a senior coach even there, a rare match for Su Jie’s level.

They sparred five minutes, rested ten, repeating for three hours. 

Su Jie was still eager, but Hua Xing showed fatigue.

“Young blood wins,” Hua Xing conceded, feeling he’d gained much from Su Jie’s skill. 

Su Jie benefited more, finally “sating his hunger.”

A month passed quickly. Su Jie’s days were fulfilling—school, exams, and training Qian Zheng at Starshine Combat Fitness Club. After tests, Qian Zheng joined him in the gym and computer lab, studying together. Outsiders were surprised to see the rival top students become friends.

At Starshine Combat Fitness Club, Su Jie and Hua Xing formed a vibrant study group, attracting S City’s top fighters for exchanges, rapidly boosting Su Jie’s skills. His nutrition matched Qian Zheng’s—Nie family health meals, plus ointments and supplements ordered from Minglun Martial Arts Academy.

Under Su Jie’s training, Qian Zheng improved significantly. Even Hua Xing was amazed at Minglun’s supplements, surpassing national team standards. Yet Qian Zheng still hadn’t met the martial drill standard, let alone hard conditioning.

Once, trying hard conditioning, Su Jie struck Qian Zheng’s stomach lightly. He crumpled like a boiled shrimp, tears streaming—utterly fragile. Su Jie could only train him gradually.

Even for hard conditioning, Su Jie could only strike Qian Zheng’s muscles, not precise points like joints or acupoints. He hadn’t learned a tenth of Odell’s skill. Still, his basic methods sufficed for Qian Zheng.

In the second monthly exam, Qian Zheng scored 710, but Su Jie hit 730, crushing his hopes. Worse, training daily with Su Jie showed him Su Jie’s monstrous strength—ten times his workload, yet brimming with energy. Sometimes, sparring ended in three seconds flat.

Qian Zheng knew his own progress was huge, but the gap with Su Jie widened—Su Jie improved faster. Gradually, his jealousy faded into admiration, even a hint of awe.

“Coach Su, give me a break for a couple days. I need total rest,” Qian Zheng requested.

“Alright, you’ve earned it,” Su Jie agreed, knowing Qian Zheng’s exhaustion, and trained alone.

Seeing Su Jie head to train without rest, Qian Zheng’s eyes held complex emotions. ‘What a freak. No wonder I can’t match him. This month showed me the gap—willpower. He endures pain and grind I can’t. Am I too spoiled?’

‘This month, my training and fight experience haven’t slacked,’ Su Jie reflected en route to the gym. Xingyao’s great vibe, skilled fighters, top-notch conditions, and ample nutrition rivaled Minglun, despite lacking Uncle Mang’s massage and acupuncture. As a regular Minglun student, not a signed athlete, he hadn’t had such perks there.

Uncle Mang’s treatments had concluded anyway—Su Jie’s hard conditioning had reached a solid foundation. His qi and blood flowed with intent, filling his body, rendering further stimulation ineffective. Now, he relied on daily mental focus to “circulate energy,” steadily growing stronger.

He felt his resilience rising, a stirring like a silkworm breaking its cocoon, hinting at a breakthrough in hard conditioning.

If July and August at Minglun were forging steel, burning out impurities, then September and October at school were tempering and honing. No sparks flew, but this gentle refinement was shaping Su Jie’s edge.