Body command feeding world

Before dawn, a faint light shone in the abandoned equipment room of Yu Ying Middle School.

Lin Ye stood in the center of the open space, his wooden spear pointing diagonally at the ground, his aura deep and focused. After several days of combined stance training and physical conditioning, his shoulders and back were more defined, his waist and abdomen were as stable as a rock, and even his once slightly thin arms exuded a subtle sense of strength.

"In the Three-Body Stance, sink your waist, sit on your hips, and channel your power to your heels."

Lin Ye silently recited the key points his coach had instructed, his legs slightly bent, his posture as steady as an old pine tree, neither too much nor too little. The latent awareness of marksmanship within him was completely integrated with the reality of training, every inch of his muscles and bones trembled slightly, and amidst the soreness, there was a tenacity that grew stronger with each practice.

Wang Dahai, who was standing to the side, had stopped complaining. He followed Lin Ye's morning exercises day after day, and his excess fat had decreased, his eyes had become much brighter, and he could now steadily keep up with the whole routine of push-ups, squats, and planks.

"Brother Ye, your stance is as steady as a statue," Wang Dahai said, wiping his sweat with genuine admiration.

Lin Ye slowly finished his stance, his breathing steady and without the slightest urgency: "The coach said that if the stance is unstable, the spear will become erratic. This is the foundation."

He raised his hand and gripped the wooden gun, his palm tightening.

Swah——

The spear tip pierced the air, thrusting straight out. This thrust was several degrees heavier and more stable than a few days ago; the spear tip barely wobbled, and the sound of it cutting through the air was clear and crisp. Thrust, chop, sweep, strike, circle, point—six moves in a seamless sequence, the transitions impeccable, and the movements of the body even carried a hint of fierce power.

Holding her sketchbook, Ye Hong sat quietly on the steps, her pen gliding gently across the paper. The forest she depicted was no longer just a slender figure in the morning mist, but possessed a sharpness, a composure, and a steadfastness rarely seen in youth. Every stroke held a delicate tenderness.

"Lin Ye, your movements today were even more efficient than yesterday," she said softly.

Lin Ye holstered his gun, nodded slightly, and a hint of clarity appeared in his eyes: "Once your physical fitness catches up, your shooting will be smoother."

He knew better than anyone that his progress hadn't come out of thin air. His internal shooting instincts guided him, his coach's professional guidance corrected his mistakes, and it was the daily sweat that truly supported it all.

After finishing their morning training, the three of them walked together toward the teaching building.

As soon as I approached the basketball court, several malicious gazes shot straight at me.

Chen Ze leaned against the ball hoop, two followers beside him, his eyes fixed on the wooden spear in Lin Ye's hand with a sinister glint in his eyes, a mocking smile playing on his lips. The previous times he had tried to sabotage Lin Ye, not only had he failed to crush him, but Lin Ye had instead plunged headlong into the martial arts club and made rapid progress, which fueled a fire in Chen Ze's heart.

"Hey, isn't this our school's 'sharpshooter'?" Chen Ze strolled forward slowly, his gaze sweeping over Lin Ye, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Holding around a piece of broken wood, always putting on airs, really thinks he can pull off something amazing?"

Wang Dahai immediately stepped forward, blocking Lin Ye's path: "Chen Ze, stop causing trouble! Whether Brother Ye is good or not is none of your business!"

"I'm looking for trouble?" Chen Ze sneered, pointing at Lin Ye's wooden spear. "A broken wooden spear, you dare call that practicing spear fighting? I think you're just afraid of being beaten up and hiding in the martial arts club to deceive yourself."

He deliberately raised his voice, attracting many passing students to stop and watch.

Lin Ye gently patted Wang Dahai on the shoulder, signaling him to step back.

He wasn't angry or impatient; he simply looked at Chen Ze calmly, his eyes as indifferent as ice: "I'll practice what I want; it's none of your business."

"None of my business?" Chen Ze stepped forward, his face full of provocation. "I just can't stand your pretentious act. Dare to fight me? Right here, with your broken wooden spear, take three of my moves. If you can't hold on, then obediently get out of the martial arts club and stop embarrassing yourself here!"

A murmur of discussion immediately arose from the surrounding area.

Everyone could see that Chen Ze was deliberately making things difficult for Lin Ye. Lin Ye had only been practicing shooting for a short time, while Chen Ze was tall, loved to fight, and was quite strong.

Ye Hong frowned slightly and gently pulled Lin Ye back, saying, "Ignore him, he's just trying to provoke you."

Lin Ye lowered his head, met her worried gaze, and gently shook his head: "It's nothing."

He looked up at Chen Ze, his voice calm yet undeniably firm: "We can compete. But I'll only use the gun mount, I won't hurt anyone. If you lose, don't bother me again, and don't touch my things."

"Lose?" Chen Ze exclaimed as if he'd heard the biggest joke in the world. "I'll lose? Bring it on!"

Lin Ye said no more, slowly retreated to the center of the field, gripped the wooden spear with both hands, his toes slightly apart, and lowered his center of gravity.

With just a simple starting stance, his aura suddenly changed.

As laxity fades, sharpness emerges.

That wasn't youthful impulsiveness, but the composure honed through countless trials. In his hands, the wooden spear was no longer a prop, but a real weapon, subtly exuding a formidable aura.

The students watching were stunned.

Even though he was just standing there, Lin Ye seemed like a different person. His eyes were focused, his posture was upright, and an invisible sense of pressure slowly spread out.

Chen Ze felt a sudden tightness in his chest, but out of pride, he could only grit his teeth and rush forward: "First move!"

He clenched his fist and punched Lin Ye squarely in the face with tremendous force.

The onlookers couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

But Lin Ye's eyes remained unchanged, and he gently raised his wrist.

hum-

The wooden spear was held horizontally, moving slowly but with extreme precision, blocking Chen Ze's fist path perfectly.

"Bang!"

Chen Ze slammed his fist hard against the gun barrel, the impact numbing his hand and instantly dissipating the force, causing him to freeze abruptly.

"Such a quick reaction!" someone exclaimed in a low voice.

Chen Ze's face stiffened. In his shame and anger, he lunged forward again, throwing a sweeping punch to try and force Lin Ye away.

Lin Ye shifted his feet slightly, his figure as swift as a blade of grass in the wind, dodging the attack with a flick of his wrist.

Shot down!

The gun barrel grazed the ground, lightly striking Chen Ze's ankle.

Chen Ze felt his foot trip, his center of gravity suddenly lost, and he staggered and almost fell, looking utterly disheveled.

"The second time," Lin Ye said calmly.

Enraged and humiliated, Chen Ze gritted his teeth and charged forward with all his might, shouting, "I refuse to believe I can't subdue you!"

The moment he charged, Lin Ye's eyes narrowed slightly.

Power comes from the waist and abdomen, and the heels push off the ground, sending the force up the arm and into the tip of the spear.

Spear Blow!

The wooden spear suddenly sprang forward, its shaft moving like a serpent spitting its tongue, swift as lightning, yet retracting with remarkable stability, barely touching Chen Ze's shoulder.

"Ugh—"

Chen Ze felt a heavy force hit his shoulder, his entire arm went numb, and the force dissipated instantly. He staggered back several steps and sat down on the ground with a thud, his face full of horror.

Three moves have passed.

He didn't even touch the hem of Lin Ye's clothes; instead, he was toyed with by a wooden spear and left in a sorry state.

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone stared at the boy standing in the center of the field with a gun, their expressions shifting from amusement to shock, and then to admiration.

There was no fierce fighting, no brutal moves, but Lin Ye's simple gun parrying, dodging, and striking were fluid and steady, each move perfectly timed, showcasing his skill.

Wang Dahai shouted out, "Brother Ye is awesome!"

Ye Hong's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, was completely relieved, and a smile appeared in her eyes.

Lin Ye slowly holstered his gun, standing still, his breathing steady, barely a drop of sweat on his face. He looked at Chen Ze on the ground, his tone indifferent: "You lost."

Chen Ze's face turned pale and then red. He was so ashamed in front of everyone that he wanted to disappear. He got up, glared at Lin Ye hatefully, and couldn't say a word. He then slunk away with his followers.

The students who had been watching dispersed, and the way they looked at Lin Ye completely changed.

He is no longer an ordinary boy who can be easily bullied, but a powerful figure with excellent marksmanship, composure, and unassailability.

Lin Ye gripped the wooden gun, his fingers tightening slightly.

In that instant, there was no anger, no hostility, only pure technique, power, and rhythm. His gun-wielding awareness and body were perfectly integrated; he knew when the enemy moved and blocked when they came, controlling every step.

This is the true meaning of marksmanship—not about being brave and aggressive, but about self-reliance, independence, and self-preservation.

Ye Hong stepped forward and said softly, "You were really amazing just now."

Lin Ye looked at her, a faint but genuine smile appearing on his lips: "Thankfully, I didn't mess it up."

Wang Dahai sidled up, gesturing excitedly, "Brother Ye, those moves of yours were so cool! You took care of Chen Ze so easily, let's see who dares to mess with you now!"

Lin Ye gently shook his head: "It's nothing."

He knew in his heart that this was just a minor conflict.

The real test will come at the city-level martial arts exchange competition a month later.

The coach had high hopes for him, hoping he could win a place in the long-range weapon event, or even compete for the championship. He himself also wanted to see how far his body, which he had gradually honed into a strong and resilient form, could go, coupled with his deep-rooted passion for the weapon.

The sunlight gradually rose higher, shining on the boy's tall and straight body.

Lin Ye gripped the wooden gun tightly, his eyes resolute.

Provocation and suppression will only make him more formidable; hard work and perseverance will ultimately propel him to greater heights.

Those who strive for self-improvement will naturally receive divine assistance.

His journey with a gun has only just begun.

After school in the afternoon, the martial arts club.

After hearing Lin Ye's experience that morning, Coach Zhang Cheng not only didn't scold him, but instead laughed heartily: "Well done! Shooting practice isn't about causing trouble, but you absolutely can't be afraid of it either. Those few moves you just made—the parrying, the dodging, the sudden bursts—were perfectly timed. You showed courage, strategy, composure, and calmness!"

The more he looked at Lin Ye, the more satisfied he became. He took out a longer, heavier, and more durable professional training gun from the cabinet: "From today onwards, you'll use this. The old gun is no longer worthy of your progress."

Lin Ye took it with both hands. It was heavier and felt more stable in his hand. The shaft was straight and exuded a sense of solemnity.

"Thank you, coach."

"Practice hard." Zhang Cheng patted his shoulder, his tone solemn. "A month from now, I want you standing on the podium."

Lin Ye nodded, his eyes sharp as a spearhead: "I will."

He walked to the center of the field and gripped the new gun tightly.

Swah——

Gunfire streaked through the air, its momentum even greater than before.

Under the setting sun, the young man held a gun, his posture as sturdy as a pine tree, his intent as sharp as a blade. With each swing, he forged his own glory for the upcoming competition.