104: Chapter 104 Rigorous Training

They clearly understood that on this Xuanling Island, there was no human reason or sympathy, no pity for the weak; only Li Changqing's will was the supreme and sole rule.

A cool breeze swept across the bluestone terrace as Li Changqing stepped out slowly, walking to the very center of the formation.

His green robes fluttered without wind, snapping slightly, while a faint, crisp Spiritual Qi lingered around him. An invisible pressure spread heavily, like a mountain or a peak, crushing down upon the entire training ground.

The world suddenly fell silent; one could hear a pin drop in the entire venue.

His gaze was indifferent and cold, devoid of joy or anger, carrying not a shred of human emotion. His chilly voice pierced through the morning breeze, falling into the ears of the five hundred children with bone-piercing coldness:

"From this day on, forget all your past names, ages, origins, and humble histories. From now on, you have no parents, no home, and no surname."

"You shall go by numbers, from one to five hundred. Your combat power will determine your order, changing in real-time. The strong will rise, and the weak will fall."

As his voice fell, the five hundred children bowed their heads in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, without the slightest error.

There was no questioning, no fear, no dissent—only complete, bone-deep surrender that penetrated their Divine Soul.

Li Changqing raised his eyes, his fingertips lightly tracing the sky. His voice was cold and resolute, ringing throughout the entire Xuanling Island:

"You were originally slaves. I give you the only Opportunity—a path of Dao that will allow you to shed your mortal coil and gain the overwhelming power to break free from a humble fate. The price you must pay is endless, arduous training that gambles with your lives."

"Remember the only iron rule of this training ground: survival of the fittest."

"Those who cannot endure will be eliminated; those who harbor slackness will be severely punished; those who dare to retreat, escape, or betray will die."

Once he finished speaking, he suddenly flicked his wide sleeves!

Rumbles—the heavy black stone gates surrounding the training ground slammed shut, the booming sound of metal and stone colliding shaking the surroundings. The heavy stone gates locked tightly, completely cutting off the path between inside and outside.

The biting mountain wind whistled through the field, and dead silence suddenly swallowed the world.

Five hundred young bodies trembled slightly. No one made a sound, for they clearly understood in their hearts: this place was not a residence or a school; it was a ruthless purgatory that ground bones and refined blood, forging blades with pain.

"Within this place, there are three Ranks of meals, three Ranks of dormitories, and three Ranks of cultivation resources."

Li Changqing raised his hand, pointing to the three distinct areas ahead. The rewards and punishments were clear, the hierarchy strict—cruel, yet absolutely fair:

"Those ranked as third grade will eat coarse rice and plain vegetables, live in simple stone huts, and have no cultivation resources whatsoever."

"Those ranked as second grade will eat fine rice and meat, live in clean, dry dormitories, and receive half a vial of Body Tempering medicinal liquid and half a bowl of Spiritual Spring water daily to nourish their Physical Body."

"Those ranked as first grade will enjoy fine meals with meat, Low Grade spirit rice, and live in private quiet rooms. They will receive a full daily ration of one vial of Body Tempering medicinal liquid and one bowl of pure Spiritual Spring water to nourish their muscles and bones and refine their blood and Qi."

"Strength determines your tier; you choose your own superiority or inferiority. All cultivation resources and stable living conditions do not rely on pity, age, or talent, but only on what you fight for with your sweat and your lives."

This was the absolute Law of survival he had set.

No exceptions, no leniency.

In chaotic times, one forges killing weapons; in desperate situations, one casts sharpness. Only through extreme competition and cruel screening can one refine a peerless blade capable of great use from the thousands of mediocre ones.

Accompanying the implementation of the Rank system was a set of iron rules for elimination that seeped into the marrow and showed no mercy.

At the end of each day's special training, there would be a strict verification of physical strength, proficiency in Moves, and cultivation progress; every detail would be scrutinized.

The three people at the bottom of the rankings for the day would have their food halved, and their daytime special training would be increased as usual.

Those who ranked at the bottom for two consecutive days would be stripped of their right to live in the dormitories.

In the deep of night, when the frost bit into their bones and the lake wind cut like knives, they could only curl up in the corners of the cold martial arts training ground, letting the night wind and dew soak through their thin clothes and freeze their skin and bones until they cracked.

Even if they fainted from high fever or collapsed from being frozen stiff, no one would rescue them, and no one would care.

If they survived, they would continue the bloody special training the next day; if they did not, they would be quietly buried on the desolate island, turning into a handful of dust in the training ground.

Those who ranked at the bottom for three consecutive days would be directly removed and eliminated, completely stripped of their qualifications to Cultivate.

Day after day, at the hour of the tiger, before dawn had broken, a shrill and sharp copper whistle would tear through the silence of the dawn on time.

The five hundred children would rise instantly upon hearing the sound. Not one was sluggish, not one was slow; they would immediately form Ranks and stand solemnly, their postures straight, waiting for the purgatory special training to begin.

Twelve hours a day, except for three hours of rest and a short incense stick's time for eating, all the remaining time was endless, uninterrupted, extreme Body Refining.

The first training of the morning was stance training to refine the bones and quiet meditation to refine the soul.

The five hundred children all removed their upper garments, their young, thin backs exposed to the biting cold wind. Their feet were spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hips lowered, chests tucked, backs straight, arms held level, and fingers splayed. Every inch of their muscles and bones was tensed to the limit, motionless, as steady as a rock.

The gale howled and swept across the martial arts training ground, like thousands of tiny wind blades, repeatedly cutting into their tender skin.

The children's Foundation was still shallow and their Physical Body weak, so it was fundamentally difficult for them to hold on for long, and their figures frequently wobbled.

Whenever anyone's stance crumbled or their posture wavered, without a single word of rebuke, the cold rattan whips in the hands of Li Zifan and his two brothers would suddenly descend.

Each whip left a deep mark, every lash cutting into the skin, every sound piercing the bone.

Those who fell would endure the pain and crawl up; those who fainted would be splashed awake with ice water; those who were numb and dazed would be forcibly dragged back into the Ranks.

Severe pain soaked into their bones, fatigue eroded their souls, and dizziness came in waves. No one was an exception; they could only grit their teeth and hold on for dear life.

There was no pity, no leniency. Falling meant punishment, slackness meant a beating, and retreating meant death.

From the beginning, when they would collapse in droves within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, wailing everywhere, to lasting one cup of tea, one incense stick, two incense sticks... day after day of holding on and enduring allowed their muscles and bones to become tougher bit by bit amidst the severe pain.

After stance training came long-distance running with weights.

The weight gradually increased from one jin to thirty jin, heavy stones pressing onto their young shoulders, grinding and pressing daily, tempering them step by step.

Over time, thick calluses formed on the children's shoulders, their leg muscles and bones became increasingly hard, their cardiovascular endurance was polished to the limit, and the circulation of Qi and blood throughout their bodies became increasingly swift, long-lasting, thick, and full.

The training project in the afternoon during the hour of the sheep was the bloodiest and cruelest life-or-death combat in the entire special training.

The Dao of the Martial Artist begins with daring to fight, not fearing death, and not fearing the enemy. Even with a tough Physical Body, if one lacks the heart to kill and the courage to face the enemy, one is ultimately just a fancy showpiece that cannot withstand a single blow.

Li Changqing set a death rule: everyone would draw lots to fight, regardless of strength, age, or gender—no rules, no mercy, no backing down.

During the fight, dodging, begging for mercy, going soft, or holding back was not allowed; they had to give their all and fight to the death.

Punching and kicking, grappling and throat-locking, throwing and subduing the enemy—they utilized the ruthlessness of close-quarters combat to the extreme until one side was completely severely injured, collapsed, and lost their ability to fight; only then could the battle end.

At first, most of the children still retained their childlike nature, hiding innocence, softness, and cowardly pity in their hearts.

Facing opponents of the same age, they would hesitate, shrink back, dodge, show mercy, and could not bear to inflict heavy blows.

But on the purgatory battlefield, there was never any benevolence; in combat, to be soft-hearted was to die.

Anyone who shrank back in battle, struck weakly, or harbored pity was directly judged to have lost, and would immediately suffer the most severe torture and punishment.