Chapter 7 – Four Years of Pain, Power, and No Meat

CRACK!

Jack's body hit the ground for what felt like the millionth time, his ribs screaming in protest.

His master stood above him, completely unfazed, hands still tucked behind his back like he hadn't just sent Jack flying with a single strike.

Jack groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "This… is getting old, man."

His master tilted his head. "Then get up faster."

Jack gritted his teeth, pushing himself up onto shaky legs. "One of these days, I'm gonna land a hit on you, you old fossil."

The old man sighed. "You've been saying that for months. And yet, here you are."

Jack charged again.

This time, he used his speed, weaving in and out, trying to bait his master into attacking first.

The old man didn't move.

Jack grinned. Got you, old man.

He lunged forward with a feint, then twisted at the last second, throwing a spinning back kick—

WHAM!

His foot hit nothing but air.

Then, before he could react—

BAM!

A fist slammed into his gut, knocking every ounce of air out of his lungs.

Jack choked, staggering back, his legs wobbling beneath him.

His master sighed. "Still too slow."

Jack wheezed. "T-Too slow? You didn't even move!"

His master smirked. "Exactly."

Jack collapsed onto his ass. "Fuck this training, man."

His master turned away. "You'll walk it off in a week."

Jack let his head fall back against the dirt. "I hate you."

…

Jack wasn't the same weakling anymore.

After a full year of getting his ass kicked, he could now read his master's movements better.

Before? His master moved like a blur, impossible to follow.

Now? Jack could at least see the blur before getting punched in the face.

Progress.

And most importantly? Jack could finally use his staff. Before, the Ruyi Jingu Bang was too heavy to even lift. 

Now? Jack spun the staff between his fingers, adjusting its length to match his thigh. Still not much, but more than enough to fight with.

Jack stood in the courtyard, breathing steadily, gripping the staff. 

His master watched him calmly. "Come."

Jack launched forward, staff swinging in an overhead strike.

The old man sidestepped effortlessly.

Jack whirled the staff around, striking at his master's ribs—

Blocked.

Then, in an instant—

The old man slipped past Jack's guard.

BAM!

A palm strike hit Jack's chest, sending him flying backward.

Jack rolled, coughing violently, but forced himself to his feet.

"Not… bad, right?" He grinned through bloody teeth.

His master nodded. "Better than before. But still weak."

Jack groaned. "You just love kicking my ass, don't you?"

The old man actually smirked. "I'd be lying if I said no."

Jack had finally gotten used to the pain.

Bruises? Normal.

Fractures? Part of life.

Broken bones? You'll walk it off in a week.

But now?

Now, he could fight back.

Jack stood in the courtyard, breathing deeply, the Ruyi Jingu Bang resting on his shoulders.

His master stood across from him, arms crossed. "Again."

Jack charged.

But this time—

He didn't attack directly.

He faked a wild overhead swing—then abruptly shortened his staff mid-motion, making his attack come from a different angle.

His master's eyes flickered.

For the first time, he actually had to move.

Jack grinned. Got you.

He spun, striking out with the other end of his staff—

And his master blocked it with two fingers.

Jack's eyes widened. "Oh, come on—!"

Before he could react—

BAM!

A knee slammed into his ribs, sending him skidding across the dirt.

Jack groaned, coughing up dust. "Jesus Christ, can I just have one win?!"

His master chuckled. "Perhaps in another year."

Jack collapsed onto his back. "I hate this place."

…

Jack wasn't sure when it happened. Maybe it was the constant beatdowns. Maybe it was the four years of non-stop training.

But one day, when he stood in front of his master, staff in hand—He wasn't afraid anymore.

His body had changed. His once skinny frame was now lean, powerful, and built like a proper fighter.

Despite never eating meat, he had more muscle than he'd ever had in his past life. Jack stared at his own reflection in the pond.

"…Four years. I'm definitely seventeen now. Probably. I think."

He looked back at his master, cracking his neck.

"Alright, old man. No more playing around. Let's see what I can really do."

His master smirked, stepping forward. "Very well. Show me."

Jack grinned. Then rushed forward, staff swinging.

And for the first time—

His master had to put in actual effort.

Jack grinned, standing in the middle of the courtyard, his staff resting on his shoulder, body coiled with raw power.

His master stood across from him, arms relaxed, eyes calm as ever, like he wasn't staring at a disciple who had spent four years getting his ass kicked and learning every trick possible to kill him.

Jack exhaled slowly.

For the first time since his training began, he wasn't afraid.

His body was strong.

His mind was sharp.

His instincts were honed like a blade.

For four years, this man had beaten him down, broken his bones, pushed him beyond his limits.

But now?

Now Jack wasn't just a student. He was a fighter. And today, he wasn't going to just survive. He was going to win. His master's eyes flickered with amusement. "Show me."

Jack vanished.

A thunderous CRACK erupted as Jack launched himself forward, the ground beneath his feet exploding into dust, his staff blurring through the air like a meteor.

WHAM!

His master leaned back at the last second, dodging by a hair's breadth. Jack twisted mid-air, swinging the other end of his staff.

The old man ducked.

Jack planted a foot on the ground, pivoting instantly, sending his staff whipping through the air toward his master's ribs.

His master blocked it with one arm—But he slid back an inch.

Jack grinned. Got you.

He pressed forward, overwhelming his master with a relentless flurry of attacks.

Strikes from every angle.

Shortening and extending the staff in unpredictable ways.

Spinning it so fast it blurred in the air.

For the first time—

His master had to defend. Jack saw it—the shift in his footwork, the subtle movement of his arms. His master wasn't dodging effortlessly anymore. He was blocking. Countering. Taking him seriously.

Jack's grin widened. "Oh, now you're actually trying?"

His master smirked faintly. "Barely."

Jack lunged forward again, staff twisting, swinging low. 

His master jumped. 

Jack twisted his staff, extending it mid-spin—

WHAM!

It slammed into his master's side, sending him flying back.

Jack didn't let up. He rushed forward, reeling his staff back, ready to finish it.

The old man landed lightly, skidding to a halt. He glanced down at his palm. For the first time—there was redness.

Jack stopped mid-step. His breathing was ragged. His muscles burned. But he was winning. For the first time in four years, he could actually see the moment of victory.

He pointed his staff at his master. "I finally got you."

His master met his gaze.

Then—He smirked.

Jack's stomach dropped.

Wait.

Then—The world blurred.

Jack didn't even see the movement.

One second, his master was standing in place.

The next—

Jack's fingers SNAPPED backwards. A fist buried into his ribs, sending spiderweb fractures through bone. His arm twisted at an unnatural angle, dislocated so violently it swung the wrong way.

Before Jack could even register the pain—

BAM.

A palm slammed into his gut, lifting him off the ground.

CRACK!

His leg buckled inward, twisting in the opposite direction. The air vanished from his lungs. Then—darkness. Jack's body slammed into the ground, rolling lifelessly before coming to a stop.

His master stood still, breath calm, expression unchanged.

Like nothing even happened.

Jack lay broken in the dirt, staring up at the sky, vision blurring, lungs barely able to pull in air. The old man stepped toward him, glancing down. Jack could tell he was about to say something.

But before he could—

Jack coughed, spitting blood to the side. Then, through cracked lips, he grinned. And in a hoarse voice, he muttered—"I'll walk it off in a week."

His master paused.

Then—

He smirked. 

Jack saw it.

A small, knowing smirk.

Like he was satisfied.

His master glanced at his palm.

It was still red from where Jack had landed his hit earlier.

The smirk lingered.

"You've progressed."

Jack let out a weak laugh. "Yeah? It doesn't feel like it."

His master turned away. "Rest. Next week, we continue."

Jack groaned. "Sadistic bastard."

The old man paused.

Then—he chuckled.

And for the first time ever—Jack realized his master was enjoying this.

…

Jack sat cross-legged under the massive tree, the scent of earth and damp bark surrounding him.

His body was still battered from his last fight, but he had long grown used to it.

The pain was just another part of life now.

But for once, he wasn't focusing on it.

Instead—he was at peace.

Four years ago, meditation had been the worst part of his training—a boring, silent nightmare where he had to sit still and do nothing.

But now?

Now, Jack looked forward to it.

The stillness.

The quiet.

The feeling of something deep inside him shifting.

His breathing slowed, his heart steady, his mind clearer than ever before. But this time—Something felt… different. There was a new sensation, a strange energy stirring deep within him.

Then, it happened. A pulse. A spell. Jack felt it take shape within him, forming naturally, like it had always been there.

"…Body Freezing Spell."

His eyes snapped open. Jack exhaled slowly, still seated under the tree. His hand moved on its own, reaching for his staff.

When he pulled it out—It had grown.

No longer a drumstick-sized stick.

No longer just the length of his thigh.

Now, it was a proper staff.

A weapon that fit perfectly in his grip.

Jack leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool metal. He closed his eyes again, murmuring—"I feel peace when I hold you."

Then—The staff expanded.

Jack's eyes widened. The weight doubled, then tripled. His fingers trembled as he tried to hold on, but the sheer pressure crushed his stance. He fell to one knee, struggling, arms shaking violently. His grip tightened, his body screaming under the weight.

But—

Somehow, he could feel it. As if the staff was speaking to him. Testing him.

Jack, breathing heavily, grinned through the strain. "Oh… so you want me to use you for training?"

As if responding, the staff throbbed in his hands, pulsing with energy. Jack grinned wider, sweat dripping down his face. "Alright, then."

He planted his feet, adjusted his grip. And then—He moved.