Thunderstrike City!
Thunderhold Alliance.
Training Grounds!
The low roars spread out like waves in all directions.
Dressed in uniform attire, the gang members perspired heavily under the blazing sun.
Amidst the crowd, a young boy focused intently, throwing punches and kicks with all his might. Even the supervising instructor couldn't help but want to praise him.
His movements were standard!
Serious!
Unlike those around him, who always tried to cut corners and save their strength, training so half-heartedly that they would never amount to much.
They trained from sunrise to sunset.
As the sky gradually darkened.
"Stop, today's training ends here," the instructor bellowed, his voice as loud as an ox, carrying an overwhelming force.
The training gang members lined up in an orderly fashion, and only after the instructor left did they breathe a sigh of relief, complaints pouring out.
"So tired, really too tired!"
...
Linven slowly exhaled a white breath as he finished his stance, a voice echoing in his mind.
[System Notification: Great Strength Ox Demon Fist has advanced!]
[System Notification: Triggered tenfold critical hit!]
[System Notification: Obtained +10 Universal Points!]
Checking the panel.
[Linven!]
[Charm: 80/100 (0/10).]
[Realm: Tempered Qi First Layer (0/10).]
[Talent: Medium (0/100).]
[Martial Skill: Great Strength Ox Demon Fist (Force Entry).]
[Proficiency: Great Strength Ox Demon Fist (0/500).]
[Universal Points: 15 points.]
It had been a month since he arrived in this world. When he opened his eyes, he was already a member of the Thunderhold Alliance.
It took him half a month to pass the assessment and obtain the Great Strength Ox Demon Fist, which was practiced by the gang members of the Thunderhold Alliance.
Like any normal transmigrator.
There had to be benefits.
But this benefit was a bit strange, as the prompt text read...
[You arrived here alone and helpless, with average talent, a destitute home, and no choice but to work hard. Young man, keep going!!!]
By diligently practicing martial skills, he could increase his proficiency. During this process, there was also a chance for a critical hit on proficiency.
When proficiency advanced, a critical hit was guaranteed, yielding Universal Points. As for how much the critical hit would multiply, it depended on luck.
Just as Linven was deep in thought, a middle-aged man approached, patting his shoulder, "Brother Lin, you're really diligent in your training."
Linven snapped out of his thoughts, recognizing the man, and put on a polite smile, "Not at all, just casual training."
The middle-aged man had a weaselly face with a mustache, looking cunning and sleazy—hardly a good person.
From what he had learned during this time.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Huang Zhang was an old hand in the Thunderhold Alliance, idle all day but good at flattery. He had a decent relationship with the middle management overseeing the new gang members—essentially a lackey.
"Ah, to be honest, Brother Lin, my old father has fallen ill again. You know me, I value loyalty and never stint with friends. Whoever borrows money from me, I lend. But when I'm in need, everyone avoids me. So..." Huang Zhang looked troubled, making it clear he wanted some money.
He played the role of a filial son to perfection. If memory served, his father had a major illness every five days and a minor one every three days—never in good health.
Linven smiled, "Brother Huang, everyone has emergencies. Here are five silver coins, please take them. Health comes first."
Seeing the silver, Huang Zhang's eyes lit up. He deftly pocketed the coins and clasped his hands in gratitude, "Thank you, Brother Lin. I'll definitely repay you when I have the money."
"No problem."
"Farewell!"
"Take care!"
Huang Zhang hummed a tune, happily playing with the silver coins in his hand.
Linven watched his retreating figure, his smile gradually fading, his expression turning blank, his eyes calm. He muttered under his breath, "You damn..."
Coming to this unfamiliar world.
Joining the Thunderhold Alliance to practice martial arts, he knew this world was no simple place. Chivalry led to lawlessness, killing was as easy as drinking water, and lives were as cheap as grass. Being in such a powerful environment, deceit and treachery were inevitable.
People like Huang Zhang, who flattered and fawned, were just the basics.
A bit of malice.
Speaking ill of others and scheming against them was no challenge.
He hadn't been here long, hadn't firmly established himself. Refusing to lend money would surely earn him resentment. But since he saw money as dirt, he might as well give some dirt.
What he needed now was to keep a low profile.
So low that no one would notice him.
Ordinary and unremarkable.
Then he could focus on training, striving to earn Universal Points and enhance his strength.
According to various special laws.
If you can't punch the world into oblivion, you're not qualified to show off.
Returning to his room.
The living quarters were arranged by the Thunderhold Alliance—simple wooden huts, basic but not shabby.
Opening the panel.
Universal Points could be allocated to Charm, Realm, or Talent.
Talent was out of the question; adding points there was useless.
As for Charm and Realm, was there even a choice?
Not much else to say.
Although his Charm was at 80, he was still quite handsome. Adding more would be a waste, and he didn't want to stand out too much. He had heard of powerful men with a penchant for handsome youths.
Safety first.
He decisively upgraded his Realm.
[Consumed: 10 Universal Points.]
Realm reached Tempered Qi Second Layer.
He could clearly feel his internal energy becoming stronger. Martial arts were like this—without sharp weapons, one relied on their internal energy to harm others.
Compared to before.
He was much stronger.
"This is just the beginning," Linven affirmed.
Destitute and alone, all I have is hard work.
Practicing his fist technique in the room, to increase proficiency, he had to fully execute the Great Strength Ox Demon Fist to perfection. Any laziness was unacceptable.
This was the lesson he learned from his initial training.
Because he wasn't proficient.
He hadn't gained any proficiency points.
Only after mastering it did he start gaining proficiency points with each full-effort training session.
No choice.
While others trained, he trained.
While others enjoyed themselves, he still trained.
Apart from training, he had no hobbies. As for trying to obtain elixirs or divine techniques, that was beyond him for now. He couldn't even master one martial skill, let alone seek out divine techniques.
Elixirs were also out of reach.
To get elixirs, he needed to complete tasks for the Thunderhold Alliance or have enough silver. With neither, all he could do was train diligently, triggering critical hits to earn Universal Points.
This was the righteous path.
[Notification: Triggered double critical hit!]
[Notification: Great Strength Ox Demon Fist proficiency +2.]
Finishing a round of practice.
Good luck, a critical hit appeared.
Linven's forehead was beaded with sweat. The physical exertion was significant, but he wasn't exhausted. Instead, his muscles and bones felt pleasantly relaxed.
But martial arts couldn't be rushed. Or rather, once rushed, it became a habit, and the pleasure naturally followed.
Practicing the Great Strength Ox Demon Fist too much would lose that pleasant sensation, replaced by fatigue, as if his entire body was about to fall apart. That feeling was truly exhilarating.
But for Linven, it didn't matter.
If he couldn't endure this bit of hardship, he might as well go home and play with mud.
In his previous life, he was a lol's substitute player, boasting that reaching Glory was as easy as drinking water. Every time, he would drop his employer's rank by a large margin, earning all sorts of curses from boss.
To this, he was quite indignant.
I stayed up for three days and nights, working hard as a substitute, and even if there's no merit, there's effort. And then I transmigrated to such a dangerous world. Thinking about it, it's quite unfair.
All for a few lousy coins, and even at a loss.
Looking at his medium talent, those without talent could only rely on hard work, accompanied by sweat, hoping to turn the tables.
So tired!
Linven plopped down on the ground, head bowed, sweat soaking the floor.
"That's about enough. Sleep for three hours, got to get up early tomorrow," Linven lay down on the bed, falling asleep instantly, soon snoring.
He wasn't made of iron.
Training to this extent.
Indeed, he was very tired.