Terrifying Learning Ability

Since Jaxon insisted, the coach had nothing more to say. Besides, he personally found teaching five-meter archery rather dull.

The two of them proceeded to the ten-meter shooting range. This area was larger, with over ten lanes. However, apart from Jaxon, there was no one else there, making the place feel somewhat desolate.

Jaxon stepped up to a shooting lane, drew his bow, and nocked an arrow, preparing to take a test shot.

Before he could release it, the coach suddenly spoke.

"Wait!"

Jaxon turned to look at him.

The coach approached, slightly lifting Jaxon's right arm and adjusting his posture. He even corrected his stance.

"Your form was a bit off just now. While you can still shoot like that, improper posture will strain your shoulders after a few rounds. The correct way to exert force is by engaging your back muscles. Let me demonstrate."

As he spoke, the coach performed the proper movement for Jaxon to observe.

Jaxon felt slightly embarrassed, recalling the young man he had encountered earlier. His words had been harsh, but they weren't wrong—Jaxon's posture had indeed been amateurish. If he were just playing around, he wouldn't have cared. But he was here to learn, to develop an additional skill for self-protection on the battlefield. He had to be precise because even a minor mistake in combat could cost him his life.

With renewed focus, Jaxon carefully absorbed the coach's instructions, memorizing every detail to refine his technique.

"Good, just like that. Now, take a deep breath, focus, and keep your eyes on the target. Nothing else should exist in your vision except your goal," the coach instructed, satisfied with Jaxon's dedication.

Most people came here for casual practice, their attitudes relaxed. Only a few, like Jaxon, showed such serious determination. Seeing his eagerness to learn, the coach taught him with extra care.

"Whoosh!"

Jaxon released the arrow. It flew swiftly toward the target—but missed completely.

It didn't even graze the edge.

A flush of embarrassment crept up Jaxon's face. Moments ago, he had felt so confident, but now, his first shot had gone wide. It was humiliating.

"That's normal. Beginners miss like this all the time. Just keep practicing," the coach said casually, unfazed.

For newcomers to the ten-meter range, missing was common. Many gave up and returned to the five-meter lane, where hitting the target was easier and provided a greater sense of achievement.

"Yeah, I understand," Jaxon replied. He was a bit embarrassed, but not discouraged. He knew his own skill level—he was a complete novice, and missing at the start was expected.

Without hesitation, he drew another arrow, nocked it, took aim, and continued practicing.

Jaxon shot ten full rounds without breaking a sweat, his hit rate steadily improving.

The coach, who had been observing him closely, was astonished.

At first, Jaxon still needed guidance to correct his form, but soon, he required no further instruction. He had internalized every adjustment and executed them flawlessly. Based on his movements alone, he now looked like someone who had been training for years.

Jaxon's endurance was even more impressive. Each round consisted of twelve arrows, and he had completed ten consecutive rounds without any sign of fatigue. His bow arm remained steady, his breathing even, and his hand showed no trace of trembling.

But what amazed the coach most was Jaxon's terrifying learning ability.

The coach had seen how poorly Jaxon performed in the beginning—his accuracy had been abysmal, as expected from a complete novice. Yet after just ten rounds, he was already shooting at a level comparable to someone who had been practicing for a week.

How could someone improve so quickly?

Yet Jaxon still seemed unsatisfied.

He wasn't sure how fast others progressed in archery, but he knew one thing—despite his significant improvement, his accuracy wasn't yet at one hundred percent. That frustrated him. He wanted perfection.

As he prepared to shoot another round, the coach finally spoke up.

"Aren't you going to take a break? Aren't you tired?"

"Not really," Jaxon replied nonchalantly while setting up his next round of arrows.

"But you're using a traditional bow. That's exhausting," the coach pointed out.

Traditional bows weren't commonly used, and those who did try them typically couldn't last long before fatigue set in. Yet Jaxon showed no sign of stopping.

"This is nothing to me," Jaxon said with a smile. "Actually, do you have any stronger bows?"

The coach was taken aback. "A stronger bow?"

"Yeah. Something with more power."

The coach hesitated for a moment. The Starry Moon Archery Club was known for its extensive collection of bows, including rare, high-draw-weight models. Few people could handle them.

"We do have some, but are you sure you can manage?"

Jaxon grinned. "No problem."

The clothes and trousers he wore were crafted from Golden Rat Fur, and even his boots were Flowing Cloud Boots. These high-quality pieces of equipment had significantly enhanced his physical attributes. Though he hadn't tested his current strength precisely, he estimated that he could exert at least a thousand pounds of force.

Drawing a stronger bow?

That would be no challenge at all.