Chapter 12: The Final Test

Allen threw himself onto the iron bed, too exhausted to even move a finger. From afternoon till night, he had been relentlessly repeating the basic motions of Crescent Moon under Ron's guidance. A simple sweep kick, practiced all day, still failed to meet Ron's standards. It was clear that this monotonous action would accompany Allen for a long time.

The military's combat technique, "Ten Strikes," comprised movements so simple that even ordinary people could perform them. However, perfecting each action through thousands of repetitions demanded extraordinary perseverance. For instance, Ron's demonstrated Crescent Moon required strict precision in speed, accuracy, and power. Failing to meet these criteria reduced it to a mere sweep kick.

Moreover, the essence of Crescent Moon lay not in the sweep but in maintaining one's center of gravity. It was crucial to find the balance point during attack transitions. Only then would it be the true Crescent Moon.

Mastering Crescent Moon's technique extended to weapon usage, treating the weapon as an extension of the body, thus applying Crescent Moon's skills to the Wrecking Blade. This was why Ten Strikes, despite being mostly unarmed attacks, was regarded as the soul of all combat techniques due to its extensive adaptability.

Staring at the ceiling, Allen's eyes grew numb. They had been assigned independent rooms, an upgrade from their previous accommodations. The rooms, still constructed with corrugated iron, housed simple furnishings: an iron bed, wardrobe, and a few tables and chairs. The Wrecking Blade leaned against the bed's corner, a dark, inconspicuous iron rod.

The iron door was softly knocked, followed by a girl's voice outside, "Allen, are you there?"

Allen was surprised; it was Mary. The third child to ignite the spark, she was fourteen, already well-developed. Though not particularly beautiful, her long legs always attracted the instructors' and soldiers' attention.

Conversations among the youths were rare, especially for Allen, who focused solely on his training. He barely spoke to anyone, let alone girls like Mary. He wondered why she was looking for him now.

Opening the door, Mary slipped in. She nervously twisted the hem of her clothes, her gaze briefly resting on the black-steel sword, her breathing slightly heavier. She awkwardly smiled, "I guessed you just got back."

Allen had never been so close to a girl, let alone alone with one. At his age, he should already understand the subtleties between boys and girls. However, Allen's life since he was five had little human interaction, leaving him quite ignorant of such matters. Instinctively, he felt tense, puzzled that he could face a fierce Gray Ape calmly but felt nervous before an apparently harmless Mary.

Sitting on the bed, he looked down to hide his strange feelings and blurted, "Do you need something?"

Mary sat beside him, saying, "I want to be your partner."

"Partner?"

Allen looked up, nearly touching her face, and quickly pulled back. She nodded, "I dislike Mao. So, perhaps we could team up, leaving him no chance of winning."

She paused, adding, "I simply want to survive. I've learned that in two months, we'll face a test. Only one can leave alive. If we join forces, it won't be difficult to eliminate Mao."

Allen frowned, "What then?"

"I'll escape, and you can return to the camp, claiming to have killed me. Although I've ignited the spark, I used the enlightenment potion thrice. According to the instructors, I have at most ten years left. So, any chance to change my fate is useless. I just want to live out my remaining days peacefully, that's all." Mary looked at Allen with sincere eyes.

After a minute, Allen whispered, "You shouldn't have told me this…"

"No, I truly want to be your partner. I can help you, and even... make you happy…" Mary gently placed Allen's hand on her thigh.

It was Allen's first time touching a girl's skin. Though not smooth due to training, it felt different, stirring unusual feelings. As Mary guided his hand deeper, Allen sensed what might happen next.

As the room's temperature rose, Ron's voice suddenly sounded outside, "Mary, get out. I know you're in there, don't test my patience."

Mary's face changed, and she quickly fled. A loud slap and Ron's angry scolding followed. Allen emerged to see Mary leaving, holding her face. Ron, with a malicious smile, said, "You should thank me, kid. Otherwise, you'd be too tired for training tomorrow."

"Now get back to bed and sleep. Forget about women. Focus on surviving. With strength, any woman will be yours." Ron watched Mary leave, "As for her, she's just a little tramp."

Over the next month, Allen endured monotonous training. His happiest moments were the two-hour meditation sessions, a way to strengthen his source energy. Currently, source energy refinement involved two methods: meditation, which involved consciously manipulating internal source energy to enhance it, and combat, the simplest yet most dangerous method.

Combat, known as cultivating through battle, heightened one's mental focus during life-and-death struggles. The speed of source energy circulation in combat surpassed meditation tenfold or more, often resulting in significant power growth for the survivor.

Both methods alone were insufficient; combining them was the most effective way to refine source energy.

After a month, Allen met the basic requirements of Crescent Moon, smashing an iron dummy's head with a sweep kick that barely met speed, power, and precision standards. Ron then allowed him to practice with the Wrecking Blade. The same action with a new weapon exponentially increased the difficulty.

With the previous practice foundation, Allen needed only half the time to execute a standard Crescent Moon with the Wrecking Blade. By then, intense practice and meditation had formed three source energy vortices within him.

One day, Ron began teaching Allen advanced Crescent Moon techniques. Allen needed to find and master the balance points between attacks, what Ron called the "breath of battle."

"Like our regular breathing, there's a subtle balance between each inhale and exhale, maintaining your lung's air level. Finding the balance between attacks can make your combat rhythm as natural as breathing. The smoother the attack, the fewer the flaws, prolonging your suppression of the enemy. Remember, combat is about suppression, finding opportunities, and delivering a fatal blow. Avoid unnecessary moves that don't determine the outcome. We are warriors, killers, not stage performers!"

From that day, Allen's physical and strength training halved, with the extra time devoted to advanced Crescent Moon techniques, practicing until exhaustion before Ron permitted him to rest. Since that peculiar night, Allen hadn't spoken to Mary. They only exchanged nods when meeting.

As Allen's skills advanced, Mao and Mary also trained intensely. Two weeks flew by, and Allen grasped some insights, able to execute five consecutive Crescent Moon slashes with the Wrecking Blade. This meant once he seized the attack opportunity, the opponent had to wait for five strikes before counterattacking.

If Allen's source energy deepened and his skill utilization improved, the slash count could increase. Executing over a hundred consecutive strikes meant mastering a common battle technique: Thousand Moons!

Those proficient in Thousand Moons could earn a lieutenant position in a regular army, like Ron.

On the last day of the fifth month, the three youths received a precious day off. Except for leaving the camp, they could do anything. Tomorrow, they would face their final and most crucial test.

The three would be thrown into the woods behind the camp, where, over the next three days, they had to kill two others to qualify for leaving the camp.

With tomorrow's life-and-death battle determining his fate, Allen didn't rest. He continued honing his skills in the air-defense hall with iron dummies. Meanwhile, Mao and Mary locked themselves in an iron cabin, seemingly bonding after Ron interrupted Mary that night. This indicated Allen would face their joint attack tomorrow.

Before sunset, Allen left the hall, where several dummies lay shattered. One had seven identical cracks. Ron, seeing these cracks, smiled. Allen's skill had advanced, adding two more slashes, enhancing power by 30%.

This progress in a day made Ron eagerly anticipate the white-haired youth's potential.

After a night of sound sleep, Allen awoke at dawn. Grabbing the Wrecking Blade, he traced his fingers along its cold blade. Lifting his head, his fiery red eyes burned with intense battle intent.