Bengtie: My death fueled their madness.

"Grip tight. To become a Cloud Rider, you must not let your weapons slip from your hands, nor let your body become disorganized."

"Yes, Master!"

"Stand firm, don't let your legs shake, an unstable lower body makes it very easy for the enemy to break through."

Qi Zhimu swung his wooden sword and struck Jing Liu's leg with considerable force.

"Swing the sword continuously for 3,000 times while maintaining the standard posture. If you swing it incorrectly even once, start counting again."

"If you can't meet the target, keep training until you collapse from exhaustion."

Such a stern demand made Jingliu, who was only a teenager, tremble inwardly.

"Yes, Master..."

"Let's begin."

Qi Zhimu took a few steps back expressionlessly and stood to the side, staring intently.

Time passed, and sweat poured down Jingliu's cheeks like a burst dam, dripping down his chin.

Jingliu's vision was somewhat blurred, and he gripped his longsword tightly with both hands.

"One thousand six hundred and twenty-one, one thousand six hundred and twenty-two..."

Now, every time I swing my sword, the muscles in my arms feel like they're being seared by a red-hot iron, burning with intense pain.

The longsword, which originally weighed several kilograms, was now no less than ten kilograms heavy.

Each whistling sound of the sword cutting through the air was accompanied by the girl's heavy breathing.

It was midday, and the sun was blazing.

The ground of the entire training ground was scorching hot, and the heat made even the wind feel unbearable.

Qi Zhimu stood with his arms crossed under the scorching sun, his eyes as still as a pool of water, unmoved by the figure's painful perseverance.

If Jingliu's sword trajectory deviates even an inch, or his breathing becomes even slightly off-beat, it will be caught by his icy gaze.

"If your posture is wrong, try again three thousand times."

With a flick of his wrist, Qi Zhimu's wooden sword struck Jing Liu's wrist with pinpoint accuracy.

"hiss--"

Jingliu gasped in pain, his hand trembling violently from the spasm, nearly dropping his longsword.

She bit her lower lip, which was bleeding, and forced her numb fingers to lock the sword hilt.

"One of the advantages of our long-lived species compared to short-lived species is that we have an organ called Danfu in our bodies."

Qi Zhimu's voice remained devoid of warmth.

"Don't use brute force to fight fatigue. Control your breathing rhythm, feel the energy released by your internal organs during high-intensity exercise, and mobilize every muscle in your body to absorb it."

"...Yes! Master..."

Jing Liu's voice trembled as he swung his sword, following Qi Zhimu's guidance to feel the power of the sword.

Before they knew it, the setting sun had stretched their shadows extremely long.

Three hours passed, and she still hadn't been able to complete the task set by Qi Zhimu.

"Let's start over."

"..."

Jingliu's vision began to darken, and he felt dizzy.

Despite losing most of the sensation in his limbs, he continued to wield his sword.

"one two three……"

Taking advantage of the moment when Jingliu opened his mouth, Qi Zhimu flicked two fingers and tossed a small pill into Jingliu's mouth.

That's a kind of supplementary medicine for ascetic practices, which can effectively prevent the body from becoming dehydrated or even dehydrated.

Otherwise, Jingliu would have given up long ago.

Night gradually fell.

"One thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine...one thousand nine hundred..."

Before he could finish swinging his sword, Jingliu's legs gave way, and he collapsed forward, completely exhausted.

The expected result of eating a mouthful of dust did not occur.

A steady and strong hand grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her back to steady her.

"Thank you, Master..."

Jingliu wanted to cry, but with sweat pouring down her face, she had no excess water left in her body...

Three thousand times was a hopeless number; she couldn't complete it.

Just as she was about to start over, her vision went black and she fell back to the ground, finally landing in Qi Zhimu's arms.

Even now, she hasn't let go of the long sword in her hand.

Qi Zhimu pried her fingers apart, his gaze sweeping over the palms of her hands, which were chafed and stained with blood on the sword hilt. The coldness in his eyes gradually faded.

He swept Jingliu's slender body into his arms and carried him through the empty training ground toward the inner courtyard.

The bitter, refreshing scent of herbs filled the entire bathroom.

After placing Jingliu on the soft couch behind the screen, Qi Zhimu took the healing spray from the side and sprayed it on Jingliu's palm.

The Celestial Boat people, blessed with abundant power, healed much faster than the short-lived species. With the help of external forces, their broken and swollen palms quickly scabbed over.

Once the injury has fully healed, it will leave no trace.

Generally speaking, this is an advantage for the people of the Immortal Ship, but in some cases it is a misfortune, such as for those born with disabilities.

Even if one is temporarily cured of blindness, they will lose their sight again.

If someone suffers from dwarfism, they can grow taller using special methods and their condition will revert to normal.

There are also some extremely subtle ailments caused by celestial deficiency, which may lie dormant for decades or even centuries.

Fortunately, Jingliu currently does not have any symptoms of innate deficiency; he has simply been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and is therefore physically weak.

Setting down the sprayer, Qi Zhimu took out a white jade bottle from his bosom, walked behind the screen, poured the emerald green powder inside into a wooden basin, and added boiling water.

The medicinal powder dissolved in water, boiled and bubbled, producing a strange color and exuding a vibrant aura.

He threw all the expensive herbs that had been prepared beforehand into the basin, rolled up his sleeves, and walked towards the soft couch.

Jingliu's clothes were soaked with sweat, which clung tightly to his thin back.

Qi Zhimu placed his long, slender fingers on her collar and gently unbuttoned it.

With the clothes removed, the skin, scorched red by the heat and sweat, was exposed to the air.

Large, shocking bruises covered his shoulders and elbows, the result of excessive sword swinging and muscle tears.

Qi Zhimu filled a basin with warm water, soaked a soft towel, and carefully wiped away the sweat and dirt from her body.

Whenever the bruised wound is touched, the sleeping Jingliu will still unconsciously furrow his brow and let out a soft groan.

Qi Zhimu's movements became even lighter.

After cleaning, he picked up Jingliu and placed her in a wooden basin where the medicinal liquid was at the perfect temperature.

"Well……"

The moment the scalding medicinal liquid soaked into his entire body, Jingliu's body trembled violently.

The medicine was working its magic through the open pores of her skin, brutally washing over her overworked muscle cells.

A few minutes later, Jing Liu's erratic breathing gradually calmed down.

A pale face, exhausted from physical exertion, gradually regained a faint pink hue under the steam of the medicine.

The ravaged body surface, which was unbearable to look at, visibly reduced in swelling and recovered.

More than half an hour later.

The emerald green liquid in the wooden basin gradually became transparent, indicating that the medicinal effects were being absorbed well.

Qi Zhimu scooped up the soaking wet girl, wrapped her in a bath towel to dry off the water stains, and finally put a loose nightgown on her before carrying her back to the room.

Jingliu's brows were relaxed, and his breathing was even and long.

A ray of moonlight shone into the room.

Qi Zhimu picked up the silver moon jade pendant on the table, examined it for a moment, sighed softly, and tied it around Jingliu's neck.

In fact, even if Jingliu chooses to live out the rest of his life in a daze, he will still take good care of her.

After all, that was her mother's last wish...

But fear and despair cannot be washed away by time; living like that is worse than dying. Perhaps it is better to face fear with hatred.

Jingliu, don't blame your master for being ruthless.

Now that you've chosen this path, I won't allow you to die easily on the battlefield.

To survive on the battlefield, one must acquire power, and must endure hardships and sacrifices unimaginable to ordinary people.