Chapter 11: Limitless Growth 6

Black lines seemed to drift before the professor’s eyes as he began to suspect that telling stories to this boy might have been a misguided educational method. This kid would compare everything to those legendary tales—wasn’t that just asking for trouble? “Of course, as long as you master it, you won’t be any less than the Blood Wolf Emperor,” the professor said, irresponsibly encouraging him. Then his tone grew serious: “This footwork is called ‘Unification,’ named for the idea of returning all complexities to one, nine to one, embodying simplicity by embracing nature itself. There are nine movements—remember them well.”

As he explained, the professor used stones to mark out nine points on the ground.

Even with Lex’s natural intelligence, these nine seemingly simple yet infinitely variable points left him dizzy. They were like the combinations of a nine-digit password, spawning endless permutations, enough to drive anyone mad. To truly unite the nine points was to become as elusive as a ghost, vanishing and appearing without a trace.

Lex practiced the entire morning and gained only a vague understanding—a mere touch upon the surface. Not only did his speed fail to improve, but he felt awkward and unsteady, stumbling and falling countless times. In such a state, outrunning even a wild wolf would be a stretch, let alone a mutant leopard. This left Lex, usually quick to grasp anything, feeling somewhat frustrated.

Yet, precisely because of this, his stubborn nature was provoked. Every time he fell, he climbed back up and continued practicing, tireless and undeterred.

The professor said, “A single movement on its own may seem useless, but they can be freely combined. You can’t swallow a fat man in one bite, can you? Try combining two or three moves first, increasing gradually. It won’t make much difference in the short term, but it should be enough to save your life. Real combat is the best way to hone your skills. In three days, you’ll race the mutant leopard. Whether you win will depend on how hard you work these next few days.”

Lex nodded. “I refuse to believe I can’t learn such a simple footwork. But can circling really evade a leopard’s attack?”

The professor replied as always, “How will you know unless you try? If you’re confident, why not go out and test it?”

Lex thought about it, then shook his head, casting a disdainful glance at the professor. Only a fool would do that. Anyone who survived in the radiation zone was no simpleton. In this land where mutant beasts roamed, those who failed to respect and value life had long since become nourishment in a beast’s belly.

Lex had survived alone for two years—he was no fool. Thus, he practiced the ‘Unification’ footwork with desperate intensity.

For the sake of survival, no hardship was too great. He trained for three days and nights without rest. His eyes were shot with blood, yet his gaze held no trace of exhaustion—only a steely confidence. This was all thanks to the nameless breathing technique the professor had taught him, which Lex practiced daily instead of sleeping. It was the simplest of methods—just meditation, nothing more: empty the mind and fixate on a single thought, shutting out all distractions.

Meditation was divided into three stages. The first was counterintuitive: instead of suppressing thoughts, he was to magnify them. Everyone knows that when one first tries to meditate, as soon as the eyes close, the mind is flooded with a jumble of thoughts and visions, impossible to quiet. The professor did not demand Lex block them out from the start; instead, he encouraged him to amplify them, almost as if embracing chaos.

When the chaos in his mind nearly drove him mad, the professor then instructed him to eliminate each intrusive thought one by one, gradually achieving perfect stillness. Only then did meditation truly take effect.

The third stage was the state of egolessness. Once all thoughts were dispelled and he found tranquility, the final, crucial step was to commune with the world, merging oneself with heaven and earth, breathing and growing in unison with all things.

For a restless boy like Lex, reaching the second stage was exceedingly difficult. He struggled for three full months, his mind tormented by strange and overwhelming thoughts that nearly shattered him. He suffered greatly, but in the end, he barely succeeded. Now, he could just about touch the third realm—closing his eyes, letting go of everything, and slowly merging with the universe. The result: he no longer needed to sleep to dispel fatigue.

The professor looked at Lex, who was eager to try, and asked, “Are you truly ready?”

Lex struck his chest with bravado. “A man’s word is his bond! Teacher, watch me run!”

With that, his small body shot forward. Though he appeared to dash straight ahead, he suddenly materialized on the left, then lunged right, only to reappear in place, then retreat, yet he was already in front. The movements were so uncanny they bordered on the supernatural. Though Lex only performed three or four variations, it was enough to astound. The professor’s eyes shone—he hadn’t expected Lex to reach such a level in just three days.

This boy truly has limitless potential!

He had not even scratched the surface, yet such results were something to be proud of. Realizing the power of the footwork, Lex was elated. With such a miraculous technique, even a mutant leopard would have trouble catching him.

This footwork was not about speed, but about strangeness—using unusual movement to create visual illusions. The enemy might see you rushing forward, when in truth, you’re retreating; attack the left, but you are on the right. No matter how formidable a mutant beast, it must lock onto its target to attack. If it cannot even tell where its target is, how can it strike? That would be contrary to its hunting instincts.

“Excellent—now you have a fifty percent chance,” the professor sincerely praised. “But this alone isn’t enough. Real combat is the only true test! Since you have a fifty percent chance, let’s raise the difficulty: your mission is no longer to escape, but to kill. Slay an adult mutant leopard, and the task is complete. Go now; I’ll be waiting at home.”

“Alright!” Lex showed no hesitation at the increased challenge; on the contrary, he was faintly excited—his love of battle clear as day. By now, mutant wolves no longer satisfied his appetite. Like all the other beasts in this territory, he longed to stand atop the pyramid.

Lex’s equipment was simple: a composite bow newly modified by the professor, a quiver of arrows, and a curved saber.

The professor had wanted to give him a high-tech alloy blade, but Lex refused. The saber his father had left him was his most treasured possession—it was a matter of life and death, a bond unbroken.

The saber was about two feet long, stream-lined to minimize air resistance, making each swing swifter and quieter. A sinuous blood groove ran along the blade, resembling a coiling dragon—an impressive design. Only the hilt, wrapped in ragged cloth, spoiled the overall elegance.

Lex cared nothing for such flaws. A weapon’s sole purpose was to kill; if it was sharp, that was enough. No amount of ornamentation increased one’s chance of survival. Besides, it was one of the few precious gifts his father had left him. Remembering his father’s words on that morning of departure, Lex clenched his fists and silently vowed, “Dad, don’t worry. When I’m grown, I’ll come find you.”