Chapter 11: Plum Blossom Martial Arts and Techniques

Time in the cave world was an enigma—no sun, no stars, just an endless cycle of effort and exhaustion. To keep himself sane, Shree created a rough method to track time.

"One full sleep and wake cycle is about a day. If I repeat it five times, that's around five days… I've gone through roughly thirty of these cycles. That should mean it's been about a month."

By this estimation, nearly thirty days had passed since he arrived in this world. A full month of relentless training, recovering, and refining.

And in that time, his mind had transformed into something terrifying.

Before transmigration, he had been smart—someone who grasped concepts quickly. But ever since merging with the mysterious disc, his comprehension had evolved to an inhuman level. Ideas flowed effortlessly, and complex concepts broke apart like puzzles he could instantly solve.

It was not normal to create an entirely new martial art from scratch in a single month. It should take years. Decades. Yet, he was doing it.

Of course, talent alone wasn't enough. A technique wasn't just born in the mind—it had to be forged through sweat and blood.

---

Under the silent canopy of the plum blossom tree, Shree moved.

His steps were light but unsteady. His strikes were swift but disconnected. He wanted to emulate the drifting petals, their unpredictability and grace, yet something was missing.

For days, he experimented.

He stepped lightly—too light. His footing lacked a foundation, making him easy to push over.

He shifted weight—too much. His balance wavered, making his movements stiff and unnatural.

Again and again, he failed.

He fell. Adjusted. Repeated.

Over time, he started noticing patterns in nature—the way the waterfall flowed smoothly despite obstacles, the way wind carried petals in seemingly chaotic yet controlled paths.

Then, finally, a breakthrough.

His stance became firm yet flexible, his steps light but grounded. He could pivot effortlessly, blending stability and unpredictability into a single motion.

It was only after hours of relentless practice that fatigue finally hit him. Drenched in sweat, he collapsed under the plum blossom tree, his breath heavy, muscles burning. Yet, his mind refused to rest.

"Something's still not right."

He closed his eyes. The world faded, and his consciousness drifted into the White Space.

---

In the empty whiteness, Chat's voice echoed.

"You've made progress."

Shree exhaled. "I have. But it still feels incomplete."

Before him, projections of his own movements played. Chat displayed them in slow motion, highlighting subtle flaws.

"Your footwork is built on two key ideas—stability and unpredictability. But right now, you switch between them rather than fusing them together."

Shree frowned. "Explain."

A replay of his movements appeared. When he was stable, he became too rigid. When he was unpredictable, he lost follow-through in his attacks.

Chat continued, "You're treating these as separate states. Instead, they need to be one."

Shree's eyes widened as realization struck.

"Like the plum blossom tree..."

The tree stood firm, but its branches swayed with the wind—rooted yet flowing.

He adjusted the image in his mind. Instead of a rigid stance, he allowed slight weight shifts. Instead of erratic movements, he guided each step with intention.

In his mind, his footwork transformed. He named this new foundation—

Plum Blossom Rooted Footwork.

A small smile played on his lips.

"This… this feels right."

Chat's voice broke his thoughts. "You're improving too fast."

Shree smirked. "Why do you sound surprised? You're made from my mind."

Chat paused, then admitted, "True. But even for your intelligence, this growth rate is unnatural."

That much was obvious. It wasn't just intelligence anymore—his comprehension had become monstrous since merging with the artifact. It was as if his mind had evolved, allowing him to dissect and reconstruct knowledge at speeds beyond human limits.

Shree shook his head. "Then I should take advantage of it."

---

When he opened his eyes, the cave world remained unchanged—silent, peaceful, eternal. But within him, something had shifted.

He stood, taking his stance. Then, imagining an opponent, he moved.

A strike came—he planted himself like deep roots.

A second attack—he shifted his weight, swaying like a bending branch.

A third—he vanished from one spot, appearing unpredictably like a drifting petal.

Every motion flowed seamlessly. Stable yet unpredictable.

Sweat dripped from his brow, but his lips curled into a smile.

This was just the beginning.

Though satisfied, he knew this was only the foundation. Footwork alone wasn't enough. He needed offensive techniques—ways to apply this movement into combat.

And so, his next challenge began—the creation of Plum Blossom Strikes.

But first, he needed rest.

Leaning against the plum blossom tree, he let his body relax, listening to the endless murmur of the waterfall.

With closed eyes, he whispered, "Let's see how far I can take this."

The journey had only just begun.