Back in Silvermont, the training equipment Lucas had ordered finally arrived.

Several trucks pulled into Willow Residence one after another, unloading box after box of expensive equipment.

Heavy punching bags, combat dummies, reaction training systems, strength-training machines, and professional combat gear quickly filled the training grounds.

In total, Lucas had spent over eighty thousand dollars without blinking. Under normal circumstances, he might have felt some pain watching that much money disappear.

Today, however, he wished he could solve this problem by throwing even more money at it.

The moment the workers finished setting everything up, Lucas entered the training area. He didn’t wait for anyone.

He immediately began training. Punches. Kicks. Footwork. Anything he could think of. If the duel was only two days away, then every second mattered.

Sweat quickly began forming on his forehead. His breathing grew heavier, yet he refused to stop. Just as he was preparing to continue, a familiar notification suddenly appeared before his eyes.

[Ding!]

[Future Opponent Detected]

[Target: Kael Vayne]

[Current Host Combat Compatibility: Extremely Poor]

[Victory Probability: 12%]

[Defeat Probability: 88%]

[Warning: The Target Represents The Greatest Threat Encountered Since System Activation]

Lucas froze.

For several seconds, he simply stared at the screen. Then he read it again slowly, as if he had misunderstood something. But the numbers remained the same.

Twelve percent.

Only twelve percent.

A cold sensation crawled up his spine. Since obtaining the system, he had never seen a warning like this before.

Yet now the system was practically telling him that he was walking toward his own grave. The fear on his face was impossible to hide.

Without needing anyone to tell him, he immediately threw himself back into training.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Then three.

The sound of impacts echoed continuously throughout the room. Lucas trained until his arms felt numb. Then he trained some more. Finally, he opened the system panel again.

[Victory Probability: 12%]

[Defeat Probability: 88%]

Lucas almost exploded.

"What the hell?"

"Did the system break?"

"I’ve been training for hours!"

"How hasn’t it moved even one percent?"

Frustration surged through him. He had pushed himself to the limit. Yet nothing had changed. Not even slightly.

It was at that moment that he sensed someone standing behind him.

Lucas turned around.

Xavier stood there with his hands behind his back.

The older man had apparently been watching for some time. A faint sigh escaped Xavier’s lips before he shook his head.

Immediately, Lucas felt something sink inside his chest.

Something was clearly wrong.

"What?" Lucas asked.

Xavier glanced at the punching bag, then at the combat equipment surrounding them. Finally, his gaze settled on Lucas.

"You’ve been training your body," Xavier said.

"Now it’s time to train how to use it."

Without wasting another second, Xavier brought Lucas to the center of the training hall.

"The first technique I’ll teach you is called the Art of Eight Limbs."

Lucas frowned.

"Eight limbs?"

Xavier nodded.

"In ordinary fighting, people think only of their fists. But a true martial artist treats every part of his body as a weapon."

The moment he finished speaking, Xavier moved.

His right fist shot forward.

Before Lucas could react, Xavier’s elbow followed.

Then a knee.

Then a kick.

Then another elbow.

Every movement flowed into the next seamlessly. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Like a river of violence.

Lucas couldn’t even follow half of it.

"The Eight Limbs Art turns your body into eight weapons.

Both fists. Both elbows. Both knees. And both legs.

When mastered, an opponent won’t know where the next attack is coming from."

Lucas swallowed.

Just watching it felt terrifying.

Then the training began.

Again.

And again.

And again.

For the first hour Lucas couldn’t even coordinate his movements.

His elbows arrived too slowly. His knees lacked balance. His transitions were awkward.

Every time he made a mistake, Xavier struck him lightly with a wooden stick.

Not enough to injure him.

Enough to remind him.

"Wrong."

"Again."

"Wrong."

"Again."

Sweat quickly soaked his clothes, yet Lucas refused to stop.

By the second hour, his movements became smoother.

By the third hour, even Xavier’s eyes widened slightly.

The sequence that should have taken weeks to memorize was now flowing naturally through Lucas’s body.

His fists, his elbows, and his knees were finally connecting together.

Lucas finally looked like an actual martial artist.

Xavier stared silently.

Three hours.

Only three hours.

Even the talented disciples inside the clan would need weeks to reach this stage.

Yet Lucas had somehow crossed that distance in a single afternoon.

"This monster..."

Even Xavier couldn’t help thinking it.

The second technique was completely different.

The Art of Gentle Submission.

Unlike Eight Limbs, it wasn’t designed to attack.

It was designed to control.

Xavier grabbed Lucas’s wrist.

Then, with a simple twist, Lucas found himself staring at the ceiling before his entire body slammed against the ground.

"What the hell?!"

Xavier remained calm.

"You rely too much on strength. This art teaches you how to borrow another person’s strength."

Again Xavier demonstrated.

Every movement was gentle.

Almost soft.

Yet every movement ended with Lucas on the floor.

Thrown.

Locked.

Controlled.

Unable to resist.

The more Lucas experienced it, the more terrifying it seemed. Because it required almost no strength.

Only understanding.

Hours later, Lucas finally managed to redirect Xavier’s force successfully.

The moment the technique connected properly, a familiar notification appeared.

[Ding!]

[Target Analysis Updated]

[Target: Kael Vayne]

[Victory Probability: 26%]

[Defeat Probability: 74%]

Lucas immediately stopped.

His eyes widened.

It moved.

A surge of excitement rushed through him.

His training wasn’t useless.

It was working.

Then he looked at the percentage again.

Twenty-six percent.

The excitement instantly vanished.

"So I’m still basically dead."

Lucas cursed under his breath.

Yet seeing Kael’s profile, he felt a small amount of hope.

At least the numbers could move.

Night had already fallen.

Most people would have ended training there.

Xavier didn’t.

He led Lucas toward a reinforced steel training dummy.

"The next technique," Xavier said, "is something even many martial artists never master."

His expression became serious.

"The Art of the One-Inch Punch."

Lucas blinked.

"One inch?"

Xavier nodded.

Then he placed his fist one inch away from the steel dummy.

No backswing.

No preparation.

No visible force.

Boom.

The entire dummy shook violently.

A deep dent appeared in solid steel.

Lucas’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"What the hell?!"

Xavier withdrew his fist calmly.

"A normal punch gains power through distance. The One-Inch Punch creates power without distance. It compresses every muscle in your body into a single explosive moment."

Lucas immediately tried.

Nothing happened.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Hours passed.

Failure after failure.

The technique seemed impossible.

Then, on one attempt, the steel dummy suddenly trembled.

Only slightly.

Barely noticeable.

But it moved.

Lucas didn’t notice.

Xavier did.

The old man’s eyes narrowed.

A hint of genuine surprise flashed across his face.

Most disciples spent months just understanding the concept behind the One-Inch Punch.

Lucas had managed to produce a reaction from the dummy in less than two days.

Even Xavier couldn’t deny it.

The boy’s talent was terrifying.

The training continued.

Hour after hour.

Failure after failure.

The Art of the One-Inch Punch remained completely beyond Lucas’s grasp.

The reinforced steel dummy stood before him like an immovable mountain.

No matter how many times he tried, the result remained the same.

Nothing.

His frustration only grew.

Morning became afternoon.

Afternoon became evening.

And now the final night before the duel had arrived.

Less than twelve hours remained before he stepped onto the battlefield against Kael Vayne.

Yet Lucas still hadn’t mastered the technique.

His body was reaching its limit.

His singlet clung tightly to his skin, completely soaked with sweat. Every movement caused more sweat to roll down his neck and across his chest.

Finally, unable to endure the discomfort any longer, Lucas grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it off.

The damp fabric landed on the floor beside him.

His breathing was heavy.

His chest rose and fell steadily.

Days of relentless training had already begun changing his body.

The softness that remained from his ordinary life was disappearing.

Muscles had become more defined.

His shoulders looked broader.

His waist had tightened.

Lines of lean muscle stretched across his abdomen.

Not the exaggerated physique of a bodybuilder.

Something far more dangerous.

The physique of someone who had pushed himself to his limits.

Every movement revealed the definition beneath his skin.

Sweat glistened across his chest beneath the training room lights.

Even the martial artists watching nearby exchanged surprised looks.

The transformation was obvious.

Only two days ago, Lucas had looked like an ordinary wealthy and attractive young man.

Now he was beginning to resemble an actual fighter.

At that moment, the training room door opened.

Bianca stepped inside.

She had come to find Xavier.

But the moment she entered, her footsteps paused briefly.

Her eyes landed on Lucas.

Only for a second.

Yet she couldn’t help noticing the difference.

Only a few days ago, Lucas had looked like an ordinary rich young man who knew nothing about martial arts.

Now he looked different.

His shoulders had broadened.

His movements were sharper.

Even the way he stood carried a completely different feeling.

The transformation wasn’t only physical.

There was a focus in his eyes that hadn’t existed before.

An intensity that made him look almost like a different person.

Bianca quickly looked away.

A faint wrinkle appeared between her brows.

For some reason, she suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable.

Not because of Lucas.

But because she had never seen someone train with such stubborn determination before.

The man simply refused to stop.

Even when he failed.

Meanwhile, Lucas remained completely unaware.

His attention was entirely focused on the steel dummy in front of him.

The One-Inch Punch.

Again.

Failure.

Again.

Failure.

Again.

Failure.

Eventually Bianca found Xavier and called him away regarding several security arrangements.

The old man left temporarily.

Lucas remained behind.

Alone.

Still training.

The martial artists around the villa were already speechless.

Within less than two days, Lucas had learned more techniques than some disciples learned in years.

His talent was frightening.

Yet Lucas himself wasn’t satisfied.

Because tomorrow was the duel.

And Kael Vayne was waiting.

Lucas took a deep breath and struck the dummy again.

Boom.

The steel frame shook violently.

The force traveled through the entire dummy.

Lucas immediately opened the system panel.

[Ding!]

[Target Analysis Updated]

[Target: Kael Vayne]

[Victory Probability: 41%]

[Defeat Probability: 59%]

Lucas stared at the numbers.

Forty-one percent.

His face darkened.

After two days of hellish training, the system still believed Kael had a higher chance of winning.

Forty-one percent wasn’t safety.

It wasn’t confidence.

It meant he was still one step away from losing everything.

Lucas clenched his fists.

Then without saying a word, he turned back toward the training dummy.

Tomorrow was the fight.

And he was still in danger.