After I awakened my core, the Alliance Leader didn’t waste any time granting me the legendary elixir of increased qi gathering talent: the Soaring Dragon Elixir. It was in an ornate glass vial, whose cap was a solid piece of glass connected to the rest of the vial, and had to be cracked open in order to access its contents: an ampoule, if my feeble chemistry knowledge didn’t fail me.

After carefully breaking the top off and drinking the contents, my Qi Genesis Infinitum cycling technique broke apart the elixir within moments, digesting its effects and dragging out every last ounce of beneficial after-effect. The result was stunning. For a temporary period of time, lasting weeks, I would have a doubled gathering rate of qi while in the long term, my qi gathering rate would increase by twenty percent.

Already, in the long run, I was at twelve times the gathering rate of my former self, and twenty-four times for the time being! And although I didn’t foresee many other situations that could increase that gathering rate, I was nonetheless proud of my gains.

Without getting into risky situations, I could already rival Wenhao’s rate of gathering, but that was only one area in which he had an advantage.

After the three hours of meditation elapsed, every single one of us had finished awakening our core. In my last go at life, I was the last one remaining, and it had taken me four hours and twenty minutes to awaken.

Exactly ten times longer than Wenhao.

The second round of training was simple.

Horse stance.

It was simple on paper as that was all that was required of us; to maintain a horse stance for however long we could.

The Martial Alliance Leader had a peak master step up to perform the movement probably for face-related reasons. The grizzled, bald veteran of a martial artist assumed the position, bending his legs, parted to make him look like he was riding a horse, and pushing his hands forward. His legs were such that his knees were bent at exactly ninety degrees, and his upper body was ramrod straight, activating as many core muscles as was possible, not to mention his chest and deltoids making sure that his arms were upraised.

“This is what is expected of you,” the Alliance Leader said. “Try to maintain this stance for however long you can. If you fail to do so for an appreciable amount of time, we will look at… alternate methods of training until you can catch up with our standard. The one who can maintain this stance for the longest gains a prize, the Jade Canal elixir. This is an elixir that will ensure that throughout your journey through the martial arts, your flesh, bones and organs will be able to absorb half again as much vital energy as it usually would. In a year, you will gain the physical tempering of someone of your talent level if they trained for a year and a half.”

By putting it that way, he ensured that all of us would be able to contextualise the greatness of such a treasure. Anything that made physical exercise more efficient was something we all wanted. And with that, he ensured that we would be putting our all into this.

My all was laughably little.

While some girl raised a complaint on the issue and conversed with the Alliance Leader, I formulated a plan for how I was going to tackle the challenge.

The answer was… probably with a sizeable sacrifice.

“Begin!”

I assumed the stance, and immediately clocked that I wasn’t going to be holding this position for much longer.

In the first timeline, Wenhao had held it for fifteen minutes before he started pouring in his chi haphazardly into his body to strengthen himself, through sheer intuition. If he had known what he was doing, he could probably have held the position for hours. Instead, he managed half an hour.

It was one minute when I realized that I was nearing failure. Thus, I started letting out a trickle of qi from my core. It flowed through my meridians gently, enforcing my muscles, relieving them of the burden of the exercise. My control was impeccable. After all, it was a matter of the mind, not the spirit or body, and therefore I still retained that advantage from my last life. Being talentless meant that I needed perfect control of what little I did have in order to maximise my arsenal.

That was no different today. By the two minute mark, over half had dropped out. By five minutes, the rest followed. I doubted that those who made it that long did so without unconsciously using their qi to ‘cheat’. Now, it was only me, Wenhao, and his two goons.

By the seventh minute, it was only Wenhao and I.

I didn’t waste energy turning around to look at him, but I knew that from his position in the grid of students, he could see me. And he was competitive as hell. Last time, he had only held on for his own ego. This time, he probably wouldn’t stop at just thirty minutes.

Fifteen minutes had passed and I heard a low groan behind me. I mirrored those groans myself from time to time. My rhythm was to hold with qi, then halt the qi and hold with my body once my muscles had recharged some energy. If I held with qi constantly, I wouldn’t be able to even make it to thirty minutes. Heaven-defying as my talent at chi gathering was, I had gotten only three hours to collect and gather the qi I was currently expending. That was equivalent to three days of qi in my former life’s base rate of gathering, a rate that I had soon discovered was bog standard, the dead average that all qi gathering was measured by.

When one said ‘one year’s worth of qi’, that was with my original rate of gathering.

Twenty five minutes and I was barely retaining trickles.

Thirty minutes, and I was running on fumes. And I had still not heard Wenhao drop to the ground.

He was holding out against me.

I knew this would happen.

Thirty five minutes, and my qi ran completely dry. I only had my body now, and my body was exhausted beyond belief.

And Wenhao still hadn’t dropped out.

I gritted my teeth as my mind brushed upon an insane idea, but one that I was increasingly beginning to entertain.

In the other timeline, Wenhao had topped all three tests on the first day of training, gaining the special rewards that could boost talent; heaven-defying and ultra-rare treasures that would be useful even to the end of our martial arts journeys. For the core awakening, that was the Soaring Dragon elixir that boosted qi gathering talent. For the horse stance training, that was the Jade Canal pill that boosted vitality gathering for the body. And for the next training: the tournament to decide the hierarchy, that was the Eye of Sages, that could increase the speed of your reflexes via clairvoyance.

Wenhao had received all three.

If he hadn’t been a heaven-defying genius from the get-go, after that, he had forever entrenched his position as the top genius.

And he deserved it. He did. A part of me felt guilty for robbing him of his own hard-earned fortunes. If this was a fair match-up, he would have to win.

Unfortunately for him, this wouldn’t be fair. And not because I coveted his strength and position. If I didn’t have to be the strongest, I wouldn’t seek that position on my own volition.

The truth of the matter was that I…

I fucking hated martial arts. Fucking hated violence. So much so that it made me violent. It was a confusing paradox, but it was my life.

I hate martial arts.

But I had to be the strongest. They would listen only to the strongest. Wisdom from the weak went unheard in the world of martial arts, and if the wisest was also the weakest, then the masses would all suffer for their heedlessness.

Big brother had to step up now. It was for Wenhao’s own good.

This… this was love.

And love could make one do anything, even hurt themselves.

I reached past my core of internal energy—now almost entirely depleted—and searched my soul for a higher power, one that transcended qi, tied itself to the very spark that gave me existence: my innate qi.

In other words, my lifespan.

Using innate qi was a last-ditch gamble to save one’s life. Without a cycling technique that could make use of innate qi without expending it, all losses of innate qi could never be replenished without the use of heaven-defying treasures or incredible attainments in legendary martial arts. And all losses of innate qi corresponded to losses in longevity.

This was what I had to do to match the strongest. This was the measure I had to take just to be equal to Zhang Wenhao, the Golden Hero.

I took a sliver, just the tiniest wisp, of innate qi and pushed it into my body, immediately gaining stamina, but feeling a profound loss at the core of my being. Just that tiny wisp was still ten years worth of lifespan owing to my inexperience in using innate qi.

Would I ever do this again?

No. This was the only situation that warranted such a reckless expenditure. If a heaven-defying treasure was on the line, then I had to go all out.

And once I reached the Insightful attainment level of the Infinite Enlightenment Fist again, my innate core would replenish by itself via the process of minor rejuvenation, so this loss was not catastrophic. I could have reduced the loss to a single year if I sacrificed my talent as well, but that would have been a self-defeating move. I was doing all of this to gain talent after all.

I wouldn’t take fifteen years to regain my former attainment level anyway. And soon, I would find a way to cycle innate qi safely as a part of my plan to rob the Demonic sect of their fateful fortunes.

Behind me, I finally heard Wenhao shout. Then a thud.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Right on time, too, because that innate qi, despite how disgustingly expensive it was to use, was already beginning to run out. It could only do so much to bolster an untempered, unmuscled, unathletic body, especially without the aid of regular qi.

My little move was like paying ten gold taels for a glass of water.

Instead of falling, I stood straight and then doubled over, hands on my knees as I rested my body. The Martial Alliance Leader walked up to congratulate me and give me my prize, but none of the words even registered through the sheer exhaustion I was feeling, and the despair that this wasn’t over yet.

Two down. One to go.

If I used my innate qi again, I would have no other choice but to damage my talent. In that case, I was better off not using my innate qi at all. I eyed Wenhao, who was staring at me in a combination of disbelief and utter rage. I met his expression with a neutral one, sizing up the sheer monster before me.

All my advantages, and I still had to risk my life just to get the better of him. I clenched my jaw, feeling a blackness roil in my heart, a feeling of repulsion, of unbridled fear.

Fucking monster. Even this early on, the Golden Hero was a monster.

The martial servants started handing out a large glass potion, qi replenishment elixirs. After we recovered, we were herded to the dining area to have our meals.

It's In The Details: Interior Art for Kindar [https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wEna6T86--o/UT-buNLIw9I/AAAAAAAAAz8/aZy5fbTUYUo/s1600/Interior+Art+Sword.png]

Wei Jingshu POV

Wei Jingshu, the genius of his city, had taken all of yesterday night coming to terms with the simple reality of his situation. He was gone from his homeworld and family. His friends…

…didn’t exist, so that didn’t matter so much as the fact that he wouldn’t be able to report to his parents on his progress.

That didn’t matter. They all had the same thing to say whenever they heard his results, to the point that Jingshu could easily model their responses based on anything he had to say.

And if he had told them about his poor showing in the core awakening exercise, they would tell him that he was a disappointment.

The fact that that infuriating underachiever Li Tianming, the god of self-indulgence, had stolen a march on him was an ugly surprise, but also somewhat expected. The boy had made a complete one-eighty from his time on Earth, going from that unserious student who always read novels and stuck to the library where he would play games on the school computer.

Before every test, he would be buried in his textbooks, eyes racing, barely eking out a passing grade every time.

Barely.

Something told Wei Jingshu that this was all the studying Li Tianming even did. He had had that hunch months ago, and to confirm an ugly suspicion, he spoke to Li Tianming one day, gave him a random string of numbers that he was made to recite. A month later, Wei Jingshu came back to ask him what that string of numbers was.

Li Tianming recited it perfectly.

He had an eidetic memory, a gift that every hardworking student would kill for, and Li Tianming used it to maximize the amount of time he could spend lazing about, living in his own atomized world of entertainment and pleasure at the cost of everything else, be it schoolwork and even human connection.

Whereas Wei Jingshu sacrificed his entire social network to excel in school, Li Tianming did the same to, what, masturbate all day to animated women? Jingshu wouldn’t put it past the degenerate.

Finally, he had decided to apply himself. Now, of all times.

Second to awaken his core was Wenhao, another ugly surprise. The meathead maintained good grades, but this wasn’t supposed to be a sports thing. This was meant to be a mental pursuit. Wei Jingshu was the god of mental pursuits!

Third… Liu Xinyi, the smartest and prettiest girl in class. And also the love of Jingshu’s life.

But she only had eyes for Wenhao. Jingshu could see that clearly, how she always cast her eyes on him every now and then, how she would, without fail, always attend his sporting events, always cheer him on.

And Wenhao, the oaf, took all of that for granted, thanking her as he would all his adoring fans, not having any idea of what he even had.

Jingshu didn’t waste another moment awakening his core, following Xinyi, who followed Wenhao. Always like that.

Always… following.

The next competition was clearly biased towards the males, a physical exercise where the one who held on for the longest would receive a reward that could make training more efficient, kind of like an anabolic steroid that worked always.

“This is unfair!” Mei Ying raised her voice. “Men are stronger than women! How are we even supposed to compete in this case?”

The Alliance Leader’s expression turned to a grimace, but he answered as gracefully as he could. “This has been taken into account, and would you have let me finish, I would have told you that the duration of time a woman can hold the position, a man has to hold it for half again as long in order to count as better.” In other words, if a woman held it for ten minutes, and a man held it for less than fifteen minutes, the woman would win, even if the man held it for longer than ten minutes.

On paper, that was fair, but in reality, it absolutely wasn’t. There were no women in this class that were athletes able to get close to the level of someone like Wenhao, even with a multiplier as help.

As expected, all the girls dropped out before five minutes had even passed. Wei Jingshu was not ashamed to say that he had been among them. Physical exercise had not been his forte.

Wenhao and Tianming? They just kept going.

On and on and on.

Grimacing, grunting, flexing, willing.

Wei Jingshu was reasonably certain that they had crossed some kind of world record by the half hour mark, and still they kept going.

And in the end, Tianming was the one who had won.

Wenhao’s friends flocked around him to congratulate him on lasting so long. His lackeys Xu Leifeng and Wang Qiang had arrived first to pat him on the back, with Liu Xinyi following not long after. Not a single person, however, approached Tianming.

“You are assuming you will have the aptitude to take that position,” Tianming had told him, with a tone that was obviously one of realisation, as though the fact of that statement had just dawned on him. Wei Jingshu assuming he had aptitude?

Jingshu was not a violent man, but to have heard that statement from him of all people made Jingshu want to punch him in his throat.

And yet it was obvious now that Tianming hadn’t just said those words to rile him up. He had won twice in a row now. Once could be chalked down to luck, twice could simply be coincidence, but Jingshu wouldn’t remain so obstinate to a fact that had a mounting pile of evidence behind it.

That didn’t change things, however.

Tianming fancied himself a giant, a king, and kings only wanted lackeys. Even if Tianming was the strongest, that still wouldn’t mean that Jingshu would ever feel comfortable throwing his lot behind him. Not when Jingshu himself could still find a way to pull himself up and become a king in his own right.

He had worked too hard in this life to just allow himself to take second place.

No one approached Tianming or said anything to him as they went to the dining hall to eat and prepare for the third test the Alliance Leader had in store for them. It was clear that they were all waiting for him to make the first move, hang onto the first thing that he had to say now that he had fully proven himself to the rest of the class.

But he held fast to his first chess move, steady and focused.

He said nothing as they finished their meals and made their way to the training grounds once again for the next tribulation to come.

The Alliance Leader spoke with more gravity than ever before. “Tournament of Martial Might!” his voice boomed across the courtyard, freezing everyone in their place.

Once again, those ancient masters had come out to watch from the sidelines, their gazes curious, hungry, measuring. Jingshu could clock their intentions just from a glance. They were hunting for potential.

“This is where you will all make your choices,” the Alliance Leader spoke as a fleet of blandly-dressed servants made their ways to Jingshu and his classmates, hands crossed and held flat in front of them, a badge on top. “Where you will decide once and for all, whether you wish to gain strength, or retire and receive support from the sects, never to learn martial arts from us. Forfeiture in this training session will include forfeiture of your chances to learn martial arts. Give it your best effort, for nothing less will be accepted.”

They were being made to fight each other. Jingshu gulped.

“The tournament will be divided by gender, with two prizes on the line,” the Alliance Leader said. “The champion among the boys will receive the Eye of Sages, a sacred treasure that will grant the user clairvoyance that can be used to greatly reduce, or even fully eliminate, their reaction time. The champion among the women will receive the Crown of Unity, which will connect the mind to the body and the soul, granting the wearer unbridled control over themselves, an immensely useful tool for learning and mastering martial arts, as well as any physical or spiritual pursuit.”

In short, one was a genuinely useful boon to have at any stage, while the other was a training aide.

It was safe to say that this new society was biased against women, if it wasn’t already evident from the fact that a good ninety-five percent of the oldies in attendance were men. Jingshu sighed.

He could see Mei Ying clawing her hands at her sides, wishing to speak up, but suddenly her expression was filled with terror.

What was that?

Before Jingshu could continue investigating, the Alliance Leader continued. “Accept your badges, and migrate to the sidelines. Once your number is called up, approach the fighting stage, clearly demarcated on the ground in white paint. Losing conditions include stepping out of bounds, falling unconscious, or if I call the match in either participant’s favor. Because I am looking for the strongest individual, I have no reason to participate in any agenda other than finding the strongest, and as such, my judgment will be impartial. This I swear to you, with the heavens as my witness.” He put his right fist against his left flat hand in a martial salute reminiscent of period dramas, and bowed his head towards us all. “In order to legitimize this promise, you must also promise to fight with all your hearts. An oath requires an oath in turn. This is the way. You may make this oath in your hearts and show me a gesture of acknowledgement, then we will be bound in mutual bonds of trust, enforced by the heavens.”

It dawned on Jingshu then. This wasn’t just a showy ritual: it was a magic spell of some kind, one that guaranteed honesty from both parties. On the side of the Alliance Leader, he would judge fairly and impartially, and on the side of the students, they would fight with all their might.

Strange. Truly strange.

Jingshu watched Tianming reflect the Alliance Leader’s martial salute, but Jingshu did not intend to mirror that movement. There was too little that he understood about this oath business, and what the actual penalties for breaking them was. And he would rather not put such bonds on himself and eliminate his options, even if one of those options was going against the wishes of the Alliance Leader.

Besides, simple logic was enough to deduce that the Alliance Leader would harbor no bias or favor towards one student or the other. No student present had any sort of extraordinary connection to the Alliance Leader enough to tilt any judgment in their favor, especially since their bottomline was ascertaining the strongest in order to gift them with magic elixirs.

Although there may be a chance that the Alliance Leader held a bias towards Tianming and Wenhao, both of whom proved themselves abundant in potential. And if someone other than either of them ended up winning the tournament by some fluke that proved nothing about their martial skill—like maybe one contestant tripping and hurting themselves in a nasty fall, or a weaker opponent destroying a stronger opponent in a single strike by getting a lucky hit at a weak point—then the Alliance Leader might see fit to make an arbitrary decision.

No. Either way, Jingshu would hold off on committing himself to magic promises. He didn’t have to be a fan of folk stories and myth to know that there was no benefit to be had with such limited knowledge of the matter.

Some went along with Tianming in order to go with the flow no-doubt, but others remained stubbornly standing. Among them was Wenhao, which wasn’t a surprise.

Once the Alliance Leader was sure that there would be no more assenters, he continued. “We will get the women’s fights out of the way first, and then we shall move onto the men’s fights. Be brave and give it your all. You only stand to benefit from your earnest effort. Everyone, evacuate. Number thirteen, and number fourteen, approach the stage!”

Jingshu took his place in the sidelines, which was still around twenty meters from the sidelines that the older men and women stood on, in a raised platform to give them a better view above the heads of the students no-doubt.

Approaching the stage was a girl named Xu Tien, a person that was only a step above Tianming in remarkability, at least in the old world. She was friends with the more popular girls, and within the social circle of her opponent, Liu Xinyi. Xu Tien was averagely pretty, but compared to Xinyi, she stood no chance in any contest.

Jingshu only hoped that the same held true in a contest of strength.