185: The hellish training from Titus! I was used as a punching bag by Space Marines!

The communication cut off, and the screen plunged into darkness, reflecting Zhang Yuan's own bloodless face.

Ten minutes.

With those two words, Titus had drawn a countdown for his impending fate.

He took a deep breath, cold air flooding his lungs, yet it could not suppress the frantic pounding of his heart. He felt no fear; fear could not solve anything. It was a more primal emotion—awe in the face of the unknown, and... a trace of madness suppressed to its limit.

He was not going for "training"; he was going for a sacrifice. He was sacrificing his comfort, his pride, and even this body reinforced by the system, all to exchange for a sliver of a chance to survive the coming storm from that perfect war machine.

In the mirror, the ornate ceremonial robes symbolizing his status as Governor were discarded without a second thought, replaced by the simplest, tightest-fitting black training suit. The fabric clung to his muscles like a second skin, prepared to withstand impact.

He looked at himself in the mirror; the eyes on that face, still bearing a scholarly air, had changed completely.

"Let's begin," he whispered to himself.

Then, he strode out of the room. He didn't take any transport, choosing instead to run directly through the vast base. The metal corridors blurred beneath his feet, and alloy doors opened and closed before him.

Five minutes later, breathing slightly heavily, he pushed open the doors to the training ground.

It was an astonishingly huge space with a towering dome. The surrounding walls were constructed from thick armor plates, riddled with dense bullet holes and charred slash marks. The air was thick with the smell of machine oil, ozone, and a faint, lingering scent of blood.

In the corner of the training ground lay several scrapped combat servo-skulls, their casings torn open, exposing twisted metal skeletons and severed cables.

On the other side of the training ground, Titus's Deathwatch Squad, those seven giants from different Chapters, were scattered about in their own ways.

Zhuge Wind-Blade, the Space Marine of the White Scars, was leaning against a load-bearing pillar, idly tossing a combat knife.

Kalen Magma, the veteran of the Salamanders, sat cross-legged on the ground, carefully cleaning his flamer, his eyes gentle yet focused.

Valorian Blood-Oath, the assault trooper of the Blood Angels, stood with his arms crossed, radiating a suppressed, violent aura just by standing there.

Thorfinn Ice-Throat carried a massive chainaxe, scanning every corner of the training ground with a critical gaze.

Kaelen Shadowblade, Sebastian Raven, and Leonardo Saint-Heal stood like three statues, silent in the shadows.

Seeing Zhang Yuan enter alone, the gazes of these Space Marines focused on him in unison.

No words were spoken, only the pure, scrutinizing gaze of battlefield veterans.

Zhang Yuan ignored their gazes, walked to the center of the training ground, and adjusted his breathing.

Ten seconds later, another door to the training ground slid open.

Titus walked in.

He was not wearing his heavy black power armor, only a grey training suit, the tight fabric outlining his inhumanly terrifying muscular contours. With every step he took, it felt like mountains were moving, and the invisible pressure made the air in the entire training ground grow viscous.

He stopped ten meters in front of Zhang Yuan, without a word of nonsense.

"Attack me."

His voice was calm, as if issuing the most ordinary of commands.

Zhang Yuan took a deep breath, spread his feet, and assumed a stance he thought was stable. He didn't rush forward immediately, choosing the method he was most familiar with.

Psionic power.

He extended his hand toward Titus. An invisible force gathered in his palm, and he could feel the surrounding air twisting.

He pushed hard!

The psionic impact, strong enough to knock over a grown man, slammed toward Titus like an invisible wall.

However, Titus didn't even move his feet.

He simply turned slightly, and the psionic impact grazed his body, slamming into the distant wall with a dull thud.

"Too slow," Titus said.

Before the words faded, the ground beneath his feet erupted into a shallow crater.

The man shot forward like a cannonball!

The ten-meter distance was covered in an instant!

Zhang Yuan's pupils constricted violently; he only saw a grey afterimage rushing toward him, and the powerful pressure almost suffocated him. He instinctively raised his arms, crossing them to protect his chest.

The next second.

"Bang!"

A fist slammed into his arms with neither too much nor too little force.

An irresistible, immense force surged through him, and Zhang Yuan felt as if he had been hit by a siege tank moving at full speed. No, it was worse than that. In that instant, the thought that flashed through his mind was—so this is what it feels like to be hit by a Space Marine, completely different from the game.

His feet left the ground, the world spun wildly in his vision, and finally, he slammed heavily onto the metal floor a dozen meters away.

"Clang!"

His internal organs felt as if they had shifted, and sharp pain radiated from his arms; his bones felt as if they had cracked.

"Your stance is empty; power should never originate from the arms," Titus's voice sounded in his ear like a devil's whisper.

Zhang Yuan struggled, using his still-functional arm to prop himself up. His internal healing ability began to run frantically, and a tingling, itchy sensation washed over his fractured bones as the sharp pain faded rapidly.

He gritted his teeth and stood up again.

"Again."

He gave a low growl and took the initiative to charge forward.

This time, he didn't rely on psionic power, instead throwing his own punch.

Titus's figure became elusive in his eyes.

Zhang Yuan's punch connected with nothing but air.

A palm, like an iron pincer, grabbed his wrist.

The other hand pressed down on his shoulder.

Titus simply exerted force from his waist, and Zhang Yuan felt a clever technique applied, his body uncontrollably lifting into the air, tracing a parabola before being smashed heavily onto the ground again.

"Bang!"

This time, he landed on his back.

A crisp sound came from his spine, and the intense pain made his vision go black; he almost passed out.

"You don't even know how to watch your opponent's center of gravity."

The cold words came again.

On the edge of the training ground, the breathing of the watching giants shifted slightly.

"By the Wolf Lord..." Thorfinn Ice-Throat's arm muscles bulged as he carried his chainaxe; he roared in his coarse, sandpaper voice, "That kid's spine definitely broke just now, I heard it! And now he's actually standing up again!"

Zhuge Wind-Blade's darting knife was now firmly held in his hand; he whistled meaningfully and licked his lips: "It's not his bones that are hard, Thorfinn, it's his life. An interesting prey."

The Librarian Kaelen Shadowblade furrowed his brows, seemingly talking to himself: "Cellular regeneration speed exceeds any known human specimen; no signs of tissue proliferation or mutation observed... its energy source... unknown." He looked at the Apothecary Leonardo Saint-Heal beside him, who also wore a grave expression and shook his head, indicating this was beyond his medical knowledge.

Valorian Blood-Oath said nothing, but in the eyes of this descendant of the Blood Angels, there was more than just shock; there was an indescribable resonance and... scrutiny. He saw the vitality in Zhang Yuan that renewed itself time and again from destruction, which instinctively reminded him of the eternal longing for "rebirth" and the curse within the blood of Sanguinius.

Only Kalen Magma of the Salamanders, this kind-hearted veteran, revealed a trace of pity amidst the astonishment of the others. He said in a deep voice: "This is not talent; this is the burning of will. He is paying the price for becoming stronger in a way we cannot understand."

Zhang Yuan lay on the ground, panting heavily, sweat and blood mixing as they dripped from his forehead. He could feel his spine repairing rapidly, that familiar tingling sensation returning.

He knew everyone had seen it.

But he didn't care.

He propped himself up with his elbows, bit by bit, pulling himself up once more. His legs trembled from the intense pain, but he stood straight.

"Your body... is very special," Titus finally said, with a tone of evaluation. His gaze swept over Zhang Yuan, seemingly re-evaluating the intensity of the training.

"But that cannot be an excuse for you to slack off."

He charged over again.

This time, it was no longer a simple throw.

Fist, palm, elbow, knee... every one of Titus's attacks accurately struck the weak points of Zhang Yuan's body, yet he cleverly controlled the force, just enough to make him feel heart-wrenching pain without causing him to immediately lose the ability to move.

Zhang Yuan became a human sandbag in the center of the training ground.

He was knocked down again and again, and climbed back up again and again.

His healing ability was running frantically, but the speed of repair was gradually failing to keep up with the speed of injury.

His consciousness began to blur, and his body was moving entirely on a will that refused to admit defeat.

"Where is your strength? Governor?" Titus's voice carried a trace of severity for the first time, "Where is your anger? Where is your desire to survive?"

"Use that special power of yours! Attack me!"

Zhang Yuan was knocked staggering; he lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot.

An invisible storm erupted from him as the center!

The scattered parts and discarded weapons on the training ground were all swept up by a violent psionic force, smashing toward Titus like a metal storm, covering the sky and blocking out the sun!

Facing this attack, which rivaled a small grenade bombardment, Titus simply crouched slightly, his body like a fully drawn bow.

"Boom—!"

He moved!

His figure left afterimages in the dense metal storm; every fragment was deflected by his precise punches and kicks or clever dodging movements the moment they approached his body.

Like an indestructible icebreaker, he surged upstream against the raging tide of steel, charging straight toward the center of the storm.

Zhang Yuan watched helplessly as that grey figure pierced through every obstacle he had created, instantly appearing before him.

A hand gripped his throat, lifting his entire body off the ground.

"Your power has no foundation. Like a castle on the beach, it crumbles at the first impact," Titus held him up before him, his deep eyes like two ancient wells, showing no emotion. "Your power is violent, but useless. Relying on uncontrolled luck, you have already died once."

Zhang Yuan's feet dangled in the air, unable to breathe, his face flushed red. He tried his best to push Titus away with his psionic power, but his strength was like a breeze blowing against a mountain before the other's steel-like will, having no effect.

Just when he thought he was about to suffocate, Titus let go.

Zhang Yuan fell to the ground, clutching his neck, coughing violently.

"Start learning to use a blade tomorrow," Titus tossed this sentence aside, didn't look at him again, and turned to walk toward the training ground door.

The other members of the Deathwatch Squad also withdrew their gazes one after another, silently following behind him as they left.

When Kalen Magma passed by Zhang Yuan, he paused and placed a metal canteen on the ground next to Zhang Yuan.

Then, he also turned and left.

The huge training ground was left with only Zhang Yuan.

He lay on the cold metal floor, every part of him aching. But as he looked at the high dome, his eyes burned with an unprecedented light.

He raised his trembling hand and grasped the canteen that still held residual warmth.