High Martial Arts: Unmatched in Reality - Ascending Beyond the Game

The sun blazed in the sky, and the hot wind swept across the land.

The massive training ground was lined with dense willow trees, their shadows providing slight relief to the boys and girls practicing under them. Each movement followed a specific breathing rhythm. With every breath, faint light seemed to ripple across their bodies, but it would flash away in an instant, leaving only a fleeting impression.

"Ugh, I failed again."

"This basic breathing method is too hard to master..."

Disappointment and frustration were etched on the faces of many students as they opened their eyes. Beneath their sighs, a deep helplessness lingered. After exchanging discouraged glances, their eyes naturally turned toward the three figures sitting at the front of the group.

The trio—a burly boy, a slender boy, and a girl—radiated faint light that didn't dissipate even with the passage of time. Their calm control over the breathing technique was a stark contrast to the struggles of their peers.

The girl wore a light blue martial arts uniform, her long ponytail resting elegantly on her shoulder. Her pale skin glowed softly in the filtered sunlight, and her delicate features made her stand out. But as three minutes passed, a frown marred her face, and the faint light surrounding her slowly faded. With visible fatigue, she opened her eyes.

Turning her head, she saw the burly boy beside her open his eyes at the same time. They exchanged glances, both seeing the same unwilling determination reflected in each other's gaze.

"Three minutes... still not enough," she murmured, her voice laced with frustration. Clenching her right hand tightly, she didn't care that her nails dug into her palm.

"Yogan, I won't lose to you!" thought the burly boy silently, his teeth gritting as he stared at the third figure ahead.

At the forefront of the group, Yogan sat cross-legged. His calm face showed no signs of strain, even as the strong light flowing over his body continued to shine steadily.

Five minutes passed before Yogan opened his eyes. A faint dissatisfaction flickered across his face.

"The basic breathing method promoted by the Ministry of Education is simple and easy to learn, but that's also its greatest flaw—it's too generic," Yogan thought, silently critiquing the technique. If he wanted to become a first-class warrior and gain admission to a prestigious martial arts university, he would have to work twice as hard.

Compared to second-generation warriors and officials, who had abundant resources at their disposal, the gap between them was immense.

"Yogan, how do you do it?" the burly boy, Mitchell, asked with genuine curiosity, breaking Yogan's train of thought. "You lasted eight minutes and didn't look tired at all!"

Mitchell's sincerity was evident, and even the girl, Lara, leaned in slightly, pretending not to listen while clearly paying attention.

Yogan smiled faintly. "Let me ask you this first: what do our teachers usually emphasize during practice?"

Mitchell scratched his head, thinking hard before answering. "They always say the key to mastering the breathing method is the word 'quiet.' Abandon distractions, empty your mind, and focus on your breathing and body."

"Alright, but what's your personal understanding of it?" Yogan asked, his tone calm.

"My own understanding?" Mitchell looked confused. He had always followed the teacher's instructions to the letter, never questioning them. Why would he need his own interpretation?

Despite his confusion, Mitchell remained humble. "Yogan, just tell me—how did you manage it?"

Lara's eyes narrowed slightly as she moved closer. She could sense that Yogan was about to reveal something important.

"My method might not work for you," Yogan began, his voice steady, "but I'll share it anyway." He noticed Lara's subtle movements but paid them no mind.

"In my opinion, 'quiet' doesn't mean sitting still, and abandoning distractions doesn't mean thinking about nothing." He paused before continuing, "Instead of emptying yourself, immerse yourself."

"Immerse myself? What does that even mean?" Mitchell asked, clearly puzzled.

Lara clenched her fists tighter. She could feel the gap between her abilities and Yogan's widening with each passing moment.

"Let me give you a simple example. Do you play online games?" Yogan asked casually.

"No," Mitchell admitted. "My parents don't let me."

"Then it'll be harder for you to understand," Yogan said with a shrug. "When you play a game and become completely immersed, time, space, and everything around you fade away. All that matters is the game. You're fully focused on it, and nothing else can affect you. That's the feeling you need to aim for."

Before Yogan could elaborate, Mitchell's eyes lit up with understanding. "I get it now! Yogan, I believe you. Tonight, I'll convince my dad to let me go to the Internet café downstairs. I'll spend the whole night there and try to find the feeling you're talking about!"

Yogan nodded approvingly. "A teachable student," he thought to himself.

When the training session ended, Mitchell packed his things in a rush and sprinted home, eager to put Yogan's advice into practice.

Meanwhile, Lara walked beside Yogan as they headed home. Her brows furrowed slightly, and her lips curled into a faint smirk. "Was it really necessary to tease him like that?" she asked.

"I wasn't teasing him," Yogan replied, his tone serious. "I shared my personal experience. Everyone has their own path and method. He asked sincerely, so I couldn't withhold what I know. Whether he succeeds or not is up to him."

"Heh, the genius from the Qianlong Training Camp speaks differently," Lara said with a hint of sarcasm, though her envy was palpable.

The Qianlong Training Camp was the pinnacle of martial arts training in Daxia. Only the most gifted students from across the region were invited to participate. During the summer after their high school entrance exams, Yogan had been selected to attend the camp hosted by the Southeast War Zone.

"Don't bring up the past," Yogan said, waving his hand dismissively. He seemed uninterested in the topic.

"But those who complete the training camp are usually guaranteed spots in prestigious universities. Why did you—"

Yogan's calm gaze cut her off mid-sentence. "Forget it," Lara said quickly, forcing a smile. "I won't ask."

Their conversation was interrupted by excited chatter nearby.

"Check out the headlines! The first second-grade warrior under 16 in the Southeast War Zone has been announced!"

"No way! Sixteen years old and already a second-grade warrior? Is that even possible?"

"Of course it's true. The official announcement just came out!"

The students around them erupted in astonishment, their disbelief quickly giving way to admiration.

As the news spread, it was like a bomb had been dropped into a still lake, causing waves of excitement and envy among the crowd.

Far away, in the deepest reaches of the starry sky, Yogan sat in silent meditation. He had just defeated the final boss in Alien Doomsday, the mysterious game he had been transported into. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Those who dare to offend the human race," he muttered, his voice calm but resolute, "will face punishment—no matter how far they are."

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