Qin Fen lay quietly in the **—the Rebirth Art circulating slowly within his body.

The damage sustained during the fierce battles of the day was mending bit by bit; several blocked meridians were gradually being forced open and allowed to flow once more.

The three forms of the Great Brahma Demon Subduing Palm he had exchanged with Lin Liqiang had opened up many avenues of thought for him, leading him to inwardly sigh at how he had previously underestimated the heroes of the world.

These three forms—[Five Fingers Reaching Heaven], [Dragon’s Reverse Slash], and [Opening the Gate as Ultimate Move]—though seemingly simple, contained profound philosophical depth that could only be grasped through intense cultivation.

His body was overly exhausted, so Qin Fen could only repeatedly simulate the three forms of the Great Brahma Demon Subduing Palm in his mind. Although it was inferior to practicing physically, it was certainly better than doing nothing at all.

Having learned from Song Jia that there were many powerhouses among his peers in the Federation, Qin Fen dared not relax his training in the slightest.

Song Wendong’s words were not idle boasting. Martial artists like Shangguan Chuanqi and the Little Pluto Hades existed; although their status might prevent them from being the first to issue a challenge, they remained significant threats. Only by continuously increasing his own martial might could he cope with formidable enemies who might appear in the future.

After countless repetitions of the Great Brahma Demon Subduing Palm forms, the injuries on Qin Fen's body had significantly improved, but his spirit grew weary, and he drifted unknowingly into sleep.

In the strange, dark dream space, the Theoretical Master slowly emerged from the endless blackness.

“Master, greetings.”

Qin Fen bowed respectfully to this elder who felt like a teacher.

The Master nodded gently, as he always did, and approached him, raising his arm.

In the dark dream space, a mirror-like projection appeared. On it was footage of Qin Fen battling the marriage petitioners at the Song residence.

Qin Fen remained silent, standing beside the Master, watching the battle that had stirred his blood before.

Being a participant offered a vastly different perspective than being an observer. Only by integrating both sets of feelings could one achieve a truly complete understanding.

After watching the entire fight, the Master turned to Qin Fen. “What are your thoughts?”

“The Sky-Piercing Cannon is still somewhat imperfect…” Qin Fen murmured, “Its sheer force lacks something. If my power increased just a little more, the destructive potential of the Sky-Piercing Cannon…”

“Will your opponents not grow?” the Master interrupted. “In this world, you are not the only martial artist, nor the only one growing. Others are also human; they too will advance. As your Sky-Piercing Cannon grows stronger, why wouldn't theirs? What then? Your cannon still won't resolve the conflict.”

Qin Fen was momentarily stunned, then fell silent.

His rapid ascent in strength lately, frequently surpassing those around him, had given him the illusion that he alone was progressing by leaps and bounds while everyone else’s development had stagnated.

“In this world…” the Master shook his head gently, “there will never be a lack of geniuses. If you begin to see yourself as the most gifted among the geniuses, the distance to your failure is not far.”

Faced with the Master’s teaching, Qin Fen could only nod. As a rational person, he knew that after a string of victories, his state of mind had become slightly impetuous.

This restlessness was something that had never appeared before his first real combat experience.

Calmness had always been his most cherished trait, yet this very trait had nearly slipped away unconsciously due to his uninterrupted succession of wins.

It reminded him of what Squad Leader Hao once said: “When people walk a smooth path, they often discard, without realizing it, the very qualities that put them on that path. When those qualities are completely shed, the smooth path ends.”

Seeing Qin Fen’s contemplative expression, the Master nodded softly with satisfaction.

It was not difficult to find someone with a talent for martial arts. What was truly rare was someone who, even amidst continuous success and victory, could still absorb advice and conduct self-reflection in the shortest possible time.

After a while, Qin Fen slowly raised his head to look at the Master. “My fists are missing something.”

The Master smiled; he was genuinely engaged in this process of introspection.

“Indeed, what is missing?” the Master asked with a gentle smile. “Tell me your thoughts.”

“It lacks crushing force.”

As soon as Qin Fen spoke, the Master smiled again.

If anyone else had heard Qin Fen’s answer to the Master, they would have dismissed it as nonsense.

Anyone who had witnessed Qin Fen fight would have the impression that this young man’s fists and kicks were unmatched in their sheer power, and his body was as resilient as a tank.

Yet, the Master nodded with deep satisfaction and chuckled softly. He listened as Qin Fen continued his explanation: “My powerful force is merely superficial; it lacks a certain essence. If I had to define it, it’s that I constantly pursue force, which makes me appear powerful. But I seem unable to truly grasp the core of that power.”

“Excellent, very good,” the Master praised repeatedly. “I thought I would have to be the one to tell you this, to point the direction. I didn't expect you to sense it yourself.”

Qin Fen sighed and continued, “True crushing force should be unstoppable. One punch thrown should shatter a piece of the sky; one kick delivered should shake the firmament. Before watching my own fight, I always believed my power was insufficient—that when my power was enough, my fists could break the heavens. Now, it seems…”

A bitter, self-deprecating smile touched Qin Fen’s lips. He had spoken too boldly during his fights with those young men earlier that day. He wondered if Steward Hou and his prospective father-in-law, Song Zhenting, would mock him for his arrogance upon hearing those words.

“Do you know how to proceed now?” the Master looked at Qin Fen, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I do, there are two ways,” Qin Fen replied calmly. “First, I can rely on myself to gradually comprehend it. I believe I will eventually realize what I am truly lacking.”

The Master nodded in agreement. Qin Fen possessed a tenacity rare among his peers, an obstinacy that surpassed mere perseverance. Coupled with his considerable talent, realizing what he lacked was only a matter of time.

“The other way is to seek your instruction,” Qin Fen looked at the Master seriously. “Please tell me, Master, what exactly is it that I am missing?”

The Master raised an eyebrow, asking with curiosity, “You don't wish to gain enlightenment on your own? Perhaps realization gained internally is more profound.”

Qin Fen smiled again. The Master always enjoyed testing people, as if failing to do so would diminish his status as a master.

“I have already grasped the main idea: that my strikes are not yet forceful enough,” Qin Fen shrugged. “As for what specific element is missing, even if you tell me, it won’t yield a more profound understanding. If I realize it myself, the missing piece remains missing. Using the existing, correct method of improvement when available is not self-reliance; it’s foolishness. Standing on the shoulders of giants—that saying is undeniably true.”

The Master clapped his hands twice softly, but instead of explicitly stating what Qin Fen lacked, he began to perform a set of forms on his own.

Qin Fen recognized this set of forms. While he wasn't intimately familiar with it, even a three-year-old child in the Federation would likely scoff and sneer upon seeing it.

Tai Chi! It was a powerful martial art from ancient cultivation, possessing its own unique methods for Qi circulation and force application.

The set the Master was performing could, with a stretch, be called Tai Chi. However, it was the Twenty-Four Form Simplified Tai Chi, a set so outdated that even the oldest residents in the Federation no longer practiced it.

If the Lohan Fist and Hung Fist were considered mere calisthenics routines, then the Master’s Twenty-Four Form Simplified Tai Chi was inferior to even that.

Qin Fen, even in his poorest days, had deemed this set barely useful for fitness and had instead chosen to learn the Lohan Fist and Hung Fist.

Seeing the Master perform it now, Qin Fen felt a flicker of surprise.

The Master performed the forms without excessive slowness; he maintained the required rhythm—moving like a startled rabbit when speed was needed, and still as a virgin maiden when slowness was required.

The expression on Qin Fen’s face gradually shifted from initial astonishment to intense observation.

The same Twenty-Four Form Simplified Tai Chi, when executed by the Master, carried an entirely different flavor.

Qin Fen even had the illusion that the figure before him was not the Master, but a slowly turning Yin-Yang symbol of Tai Chi.

Unsure how many cycles the Master had completed, Qin Fen unconsciously began to follow along, performing the very Twenty-Four Form Simplified Tai Chi he had discarded in his youth.

Wild Horse Parts Mane, White Crane Spreads Wings… Cloud Hands… Single Whip…

The two of them practiced like this for the entire night.

As dawn broke, the Master finally ceased his movements and looked at Qin Fen. “Understood?”

Qin Fen scratched his head somewhat sheepishly. “A little…”

“Good.” The Master drew two circular paths in front of him, starting from his Dantian with his left and right palms: “Softness is drawn from within hardness; hardness is born from softness. If you don’t understand what softness is, how can you understand hardness?”

Qin Fen nodded repeatedly, feeling a pang of regret that when choosing supplementary forms, he hadn't considered that whether he practiced one useless routine or two, the effort was the same—why hadn't he learned the Twenty-Four Form Simplified Tai Chi?

If he had persisted with it for so many years, his insights would surely be far deeper than what he gained tonight. Perhaps in his fight against Ge Bing, he wouldn't have needed to use the Raging Torrent to slam his opponent to the ground.

The sound of the reveille bugle pulled Qin Fen out of the dreamscape.

That was one advantage of being in a military camp—no matter which one, the morning call always existed.

He pushed open the door, looking out at the pale sky, and decided to grab breakfast first before heading to the gravity room. The equipment in Shengjing’s gravity room was far superior to the recruit camp’s.

Practicing Tai Chi under special gravity conditions—that should offer even more profound insights, he thought.