19. The Theoretically Invincibility

"Do you know the author of this book?"

Zhang Ming replied, "Yu Xiaogang, also known as the Grandmaster, is unrivaled in martial arts research. He is considered theoretically invincible."

Quan Yi was slightly surprised. If Yu Xiaogang was truly theoretically invincible, why hadn't he come across his books in his family's library all these years? Moreover, the books were placed in such a remote section.

"Since he's called theoretically invincible, is there any issue if I plan to buy his book?" Quan Yi asked doubtfully.

Zhang Ming chuckled. "Hmph, invincibility in this case doesn't mean absolute correctness—it just means that, to this day, no one has been able to prove whether his theories are right or wrong."

"No one can disprove them either… doesn't that make them invincible in their own way?"

Quan Yi suddenly understood. So that's what it meant.

Indeed, theories like Martial Soul Mimicry had never been proven, as no one dared to risk their lives absorbing a dangerous soul ring just to verify it.

At that moment, a new doubt surfaced in his mind.

As a member of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, why hadn't anyone within the family conducted such experiments?

A so-called theoretically invincible theory… Why did such a joke revolve around this person?

Quan Yi asked, "Yu Xiaogang—isn't he from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan?"

Hearing that name, Zhang Ming's expression suddenly tensed.

"Shh! Keep your voice down," he warned, lowering his tone. Then, leaning closer, he whispered, "I heard that Grandmaster left the clan years ago due to his poor talent. He later joined the Spirit Hall… but eventually left them as well. That's all I know."

"Senior, you're so well-informed!"

Zhang Ming felt a little embarrassed at the praise and scratched the back of his head.

"I just overheard it from the librarian. It's nothing special. I only mentioned it to warn you—these theories may be interesting, but don't try to test them yourself."

Zhang Ming had good intentions; otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered to warn Quan Yi. However, he failed to realize the true value of this book.

"Thank you for the advice, but I still want to buy a copy. If there are any other works by this author, I'd like those as well," Quan Yi insisted.

Seeing his determination, Zhang Ming didn't say much more.

"Alright then. I'll ask the curator, and I'll let you know when you return the book next week."

Quan Yi quickly thanked him. After filling out the necessary forms, he picked up the book and walked out of the library.

The moment he stepped outside, he stored the book inside the Heart of the Fierce Sun, but his expression suddenly turned serious.

He whispered to himself, "Spirit Hall…"

He hadn't expected that the one behind this was not the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, but the Spirit Hall itself.

That meant all this data had likely been collected by Spirit Hall.

The Spirit Hall possessed information on most soul masters across the Douluo Continent—an invaluable resource. However, they didn't seem to grasp the true potential of large-scale data analysis.

After all, they hadn't tested Yu Xiaogang's theories. This suggested that even Spirit Hall itself didn't believe in them.

From this, it was evident that the entire soul master world lacked true academic research on the nature of Martial Souls. Everyone was solely focused on improving their strength.

But this was nothing more than laziness—intellectual laziness.

Human minds gradually become rigid, treating so-called experience as absolute truth and relentlessly criticizing new ideas.

Quan Yi reminded himself never to fall into such ideological stagnation. He had to keep thinking, questioning, and doubting.

Even though this was a different world—one that seemed novel at first glance—its essence remained backward.

That backwardness lay in its way of thinking.

If he wasn't careful, his own soul would be polluted by the old world's rigid ideology.

Thus, he had to constantly challenge his thoughts, staying sharp and adaptable. Only by doing so could he keep his soul new.

After leaving the library, it was time for training.

Quan Yi returned to the same practice field as before. As expected, it was still empty.

His midday workout focused on anaerobic exercises, primarily designed to enhance explosive power.

His routine consisted of burpees and pull-ups.

Burpees combined squats, push-ups, abdominal curls, and squat jumps into a single movement, rapidly increasing heart rate and activating muscles throughout the body. Paired with pull-ups, the workout was grueling just to think about.

This was a training method Quan Yi had devised based on his past life's experience.

His regimen was structured into sets:

40 burpees, immediately followed by 40 pull-ups. 1-minute rest between sets. 20 sets in total.

Quan Yi executed each movement with precision, never sacrificing form for speed.

His body remained tense and controlled throughout. During pull-ups, he moved up and down in a slow, controlled manner, increasing the strain on his arms.

The sun blazed overhead, but the heat didn't faze him.

Even towards the end, his posture remained impeccable, completing the session purely through sheer willpower.

After finishing, Quan Yi didn't forget to stretch.

For most people, enduring such extreme training even once would be unbearable. Yet, he pushed through this routine three times a day.

What terrifying willpower.

His white short-sleeved shirt was drenched in sweat, clinging to his body. Since it was noon and others might arrive, he refrained from taking it off.

After training, the best part of the day had arrived—mealtime.

Dragging his fatigued body, Quan Yi made his way to the cafeteria.

The moment he stepped inside, the rich aroma of food filled his nostrils, intensifying his hunger.

Without hesitation, he headed straight for the second floor. Right now, all he could think about was eating.

At that moment, many students took notice of him.

It wasn't surprising—his sweat-soaked white shirt had turned slightly transparent, revealing his well-defined chest and broad shoulders.

Shy girls averted their gazes, their faces flushing red, while bolder ones openly admired his physique.

The boys, on the other hand, felt a mix of awe and admiration.

Faced with such a stark physical difference, all they could do was silently respect his dedication.

Oblivious to the attention, Quan Yi walked straight up to the second floor and disappeared from view.

The second floor was just as quiet as it had been in the morning, with fewer people around.

Wasting no time, Quan Yi filled two large plates with food and headed toward a secluded corner. Just as he was about to retrieve some jerky from his chest, an irritating voice cut through the air.

"Where did this country bumpkin come from? Just looking at him ruins my appetite."

Quan Yi's gaze immediately snapped toward the source of the voice.

A young man with sharp, disdainful eyes glared at him.

"What are you staring at? I'm talking about you. Can't you go eat downstairs? You reek of sweat—don't ruin our meal."

The boy was clearly a senior student, judging by his age. He wore expensive clothing, but his expression of disgust completely ruined Quan Yi's impression of him.

Quan Yi sighed inwardly. 'Is there something wrong with this cafeteria's feng shui?'

'This is only my second time here, and yet, I have already encountered trouble twice.'

'Can't I just have a peaceful meal for once?'