Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

They rode gentle mares or ponies, playing polo on the smooth grass at the edge of the training ground, their laughter and playful scolding filling the air.

The crisp sound of mallets striking rattan balls could be heard from time to time, creating a stark contrast with the heavy and oppressive atmosphere of the male reserve soldiers here.

As the reserve soldiers began their grueling run around the field carrying stone weights, the ladies' eyes were frequently drawn to them.

They might be intrigued by this display of pure, masculine strength, or it might just be a pastime during training breaks.

Several lively young ladies even shouted loudly to some acquaintances or handsome young men in the group:

"Hey! Cousin Carlos! Hurry up! That farm boy behind you is almost overtaking you!"

A red-haired lady was waving a polo mallet, laughing heartily.

"Anderson! Stand up straight! Didn't you eat? Look at the mess you're making!"

Another slightly older lady called out in a teasing tone.

The young man whose name was called blushed instantly, whether from shame or anger, but his feet involuntarily quickened their pace.

He puffed out his chest even more, as if he really cared about the ladies' opinions.

Instructor Barton was clearly used to this, and he would even use it to motivate the team.

When he saw the team slowing down due to fatigue, he would suddenly yell:

"Did you all hear that? The girls are all watching! Look at you all, acting like cowards!"

What will I rely on to protect my territory in the future? What will I rely on to win the heart of a beauty? Run!

Run with all your might! Perform well, and you'll have a chance to marry a rich girl and bring glory to your family!

His words were crude and direct, yet they struck a chord with many young people's hidden desires or vanity.

The team's speed was indeed boosted, although it was accompanied by more painful panting.

But Barton was much more polite to the ladies themselves, almost to the point of being indulgent.

When a young lady comes over to ask about the key points of a certain movement, or simply observes out of curiosity.

He would patiently explain a few things, but he would never force them to complete any real weight-bearing or endurance training.

His requirements were limited to "paying attention to safety," "getting a feel for the atmosphere," and "understanding chivalry."

It was as if their very existence served as an extra incentive and background decoration for the male reserve officers.

Andrei also had clear distinctions in his treatment of different male reserves.

For those descendants with the surname "Fran", especially several direct or prominent collateral relatives.

From day one, he mixed them with the strongest young farmers selected from various villages in the territory.

They trained relentlessly to the same standards, constantly scolding and reprimanding:

"Don't think you can slack off just because you're surnamed Fran! You might be leading the Knights in the future!"

The more you sweat now, the less blood your men will bleed on the battlefield later! Keep up!

His attitude toward the new "François" was noticeably more lenient.

It even carries a subtle sense of scrutiny and reservation.

In the first few days, he did not rush them to catch up with the main force's intensity, but often said:

"You guys haven't fully developed yet, so do what you can, follow along, get a feel for the rhythm, and don't push yourself too hard and hurt yourself."

This differential treatment, seemingly out of concern, is actually a form of isolation and observation.

Perhaps they are assessing the true potential and character of these "foreign seeds".

Solo, present in the midst of it all, calmly observed everything.

When he ran with the stone weights on his back, he did not blindly exert all his strength like the others, which caused his breathing to become completely disordered.

Instead, he tried to combine the long, deep breathing rhythm from the "Internal Breathing Technique" with his footwork.

Focus your mind on your lower abdomen when inhaling, and keep your steps steady.

Exhale slightly, releasing stale air, which stimulates the contraction and relaxation of leg muscles.

This allows him to maintain a relatively stable heart rate and breathing under the same workload, saving unnecessary physical exertion.

To outsiders, he simply ran not very fast but very steadily, and seemed to have decent endurance.

After swinging the sword three thousand times, the soreness in the arm and the wear and tear on the palm are equally intense.

Solo did not try to fight the soreness, but instead tried his best to relax the muscles that were not the main source of power between each swing of his sword.

And silently simulate the concepts of "force penetrating the sword tip" and "power released in an instant" from the basic sword techniques of Xuanhuang Martial Arts.

Despite the cumbersome training sword in his hand, this concentration of thought...

To some extent, it alleviates the mental numbness and physical resistance caused by purely mechanical repetition.

The heavy impact of a shield block is a direct test of the body's structure.

At the moment of each impact, Solo would subconsciously adjust his center of gravity slightly, not by stepping back or reducing the force, as that would be punished by the instructor.

Instead, let your legs root themselves to the ground, and let your spine arch slightly to support the weight.

Distribute the impact force as evenly as possible over a larger support surface.

This was thanks to his profound understanding of the body's structure, though he couldn't completely neutralize that brute force.

However, it avoided the shock that caused some young people to lose their grip and drop their shields.

In wrestling, you face opponents who rely purely on weight and brute force.

Solo utilizes more of the balance-breaking techniques and joint locks from Blue Star fighting, as well as judo and grappling techniques.

After all, in the true understanding of martial artists in the Xuanhuang Martial World, internal energy is the foundation of combat.

High leaps and bounds, with unrestrained energy, are the norm.

It is extremely rare to find oneself in such a predicament where one's internal strength is limited and one has to rely solely on weight and brute force to roll and entangle on the ground.

Therefore, there are basically not many martial arts techniques related to ground fighting in the Xuanhuang Martial World.

For true martial artists, especially those who have reached the second-rate level and can transform their internal energy into more penetrating and destructive "force,"

The ground beneath our feet often seems too "fragile".

A slight stomp is enough to propel someone several meters into the air or crack the floor tiles within a radius of several feet.

If the energy is released at full strength, it can plow a deep trench into the ground along with the bricks and stones, just like an invisible cannonball.

Its power, comparable to a small grenade, makes close-quarters combat confined to a small area pale in comparison.

It's like tying your own hands and feet, putting yourself in the most disadvantageous position.

However, in this training ground of another world, Solo must abide by the rules here.

That afternoon, the wrestling training had just begun with the group divisions.

A figure, exuding undisguised arrogance and malice, walked straight up to Solo.

It was Nelson—the red-haired youth who had publicly insulted Solo as a "mudblood," a member of a collateral branch of the Fran family.

Known for his volatile temper and worship of pure strength, he was quite famous among the reserves for his brute force.

"Hey, nobody wants to be in a group with a filthy thing like you, right?" Nelter crossed his arms, puffed out his chest, and looked down at Solo with disdain.

"I'll 'give you some pointers' and show you what real power is, instead of just hiding like a mouse."

He deliberately raised his voice, attracting the attention of many young people who were warming up nearby, some of whom looked on with expressions of anticipation.