"Glug, glug, glug…"
Blake Bai tilted his head back, pressing his dry, cracked lips against the cup, gulping down the water until the black thermos was emptied.
"Ah…"
He exhaled a breath of hot air contentedly, grabbing the collar of his gray training suit with his other hand, fanning it back and forth in an attempt to cool down.
His entire back was soaked with sweat, and the draft of air provided immediate relief.
After standing still for a moment to calm his pounding heart, Blake leaned against the white ceramic wall and slid down to sit on the rubber mat.
Placing the cup beside him, he rested and looked ahead.
This was an indoor training hall, spacious with floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides. The noon sunlight streamed through the glass, creating several golden trapezoids on the light blue rubber floor. Outside the sunlit areas, young people in gray training suits were practicing, punching sandbags, sparring, and shadowboxing.
The muffled thuds of feet on mats, the pounding of fists on bags, and the encouraging shouts of sparring partners created a scene full of vitality. Even the smell of sweat, body odor, and rubber in the air had a sense of fervor.
"The feeling of youth... not bad at all…"
Blake took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing.
This was his third day in this parallel world. After three days of exploration, Blake had figured out that he wasn't reborn but had transmigrated.
This twenty-four-year-old body wasn't particularly strong but was quite healthy.
"Fall in!"
Suddenly, a middle-aged man's voice rang out from the center of the hall.
Quickly, the trainees stopped their activities and gathered. Blake set down his water cup and ran to join them.
At the front stood a man about six feet tall, dressed in a black coach's uniform, his posture straight and his physique robust.
He had a standard square face, thick eyebrows, big eyes, and short, bristly hair.
This was Zhang Hongtao, the coach responsible for their training at the Bai Niao Martial Arts Academy.
"Warm-up is over, let's continue with the concepts of Sanda we discussed last time."
His eyes scanned the trainees as he spoke confidently.
The Sanda he taught was a combat sport combining boxing, kicking, and wrestling techniques, aiming to subdue opponents in the shortest possible time.
Sanda is effective in actual combat, emphasizing ground fighting and attack-defense skills.
Today, Zhang Hongtao would teach the basic moves and fighting stance.
"First is the fighting stance. Watch my movements closely."
As he spoke, he quickly turned sideways, presenting his left shoulder to the trainees. His legs were spread slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, his right foot angled inward, and his left foot slightly turned inward. His hands were clenched into fists, arms extended forward, eyes looking straight ahead.
This was a typical combat stance, shoulders slightly shaking, weight balanced on the right foot, ready to spring into action and throw a punch at any moment.
Blake watched intently as Zhang Hongtao continued to demonstrate and explain.
"After the fighting stance, we move on to basic punches, kicks, and footwork."
"The basic punches include straight punches, hook punches, and uppercuts…"
As he mentioned each punch, he quickly performed the corresponding action.
Using his shoulders to generate power, his fists shot out with a sharp intensity.
"The basic kicks include front kicks, side kicks, and roundhouse kicks."
"The basic footwork includes stepping, advancing, and dodging."
Zhang Hongtao's movements were crisp and clean, without any unnecessary flair.
"Alright, demonstration over, now let's break down the moves."
He swiftly transitioned into his coaching role, breaking down each stance and punch into individual movements, explaining the principles and purposes as he went.
Half an hour later, Zhang Hongtao finished his demonstration.
He then selected one move for the trainees to practice.
There were about thirty people present, all diligently practicing. Some grasped the moves quickly, achieving a high level of accuracy on their first try. Others with average aptitude could only manage a rough approximation. The least talented, about three or four people, struggled to perform the moves correctly.
Fortunately, Blake wasn't among the bottom few.
But he wasn't far from them, ranking in the lower ten.
His athletic talent had been poor in his previous life, and this body's athletic talent wasn't great either. The combination placed him in the lower-middle range.
At the front, Coach Zhang's eyes swept over the group, finally resting on a short-haired young man about six feet tall, standing a few positions to Blake's left. This young man had shown remarkable physical talent and comprehension in the previous stages of training.
As expected, this time with the basic Sanda moves, Guo Hao's execution was again over seventy percent accurate, showing great potential for further training.
"Guo Hao has excellent talent, just a bit lazy."
"After the Sanda course, maybe I can promote him to the elite class…"
Coach Zhang thought to himself, his gaze moving past Guo Hao's row to where Blake was practicing, his movements a bit off.
Over an hour passed in the training hall.
"We'll stop with these moves for now. Continue practicing on your own."
Coach Zhang clapped his hands, indicating the trainees could rest or continue practicing on their own. Soon, they dispersed to different areas to continue their exercises.
Blake noticed that Coach Zhang didn't leave the hall but stood near a window. Nearby, Guo Hao was practicing.
He took a glance and then refocused on his own practice.
Blake moved to a corner and started his exercises again.
In this area, other trainees were also practicing their moves and footwork. However, without the coach's supervision, their efforts were noticeably more relaxed, their punches and kicks lacking power and effort, especially among the bottom few.
Yet, Blake was a bit of an exception.
His movements, though not perfect, were executed with a determined effort.
Whether someone is practicing earnestly can be seen at a glance.
"Whew… huff… whew… huff…"
Heavy breathing leaked from his nose, and Blake could hear his heart pounding like a drum. The more effort he put in, the more exhausted he felt. After practicing Sanda moves for a while, he was drenched in sweat again.
But even so, Blake's eyes remained fixed ahead.
His movements were meticulous, and he showed no sign of slowing down.
From a distance, by the window, Coach Zhang's gaze shifted from Guo Hao to scan the training hall. His eyes paused briefly on Blake's area, making a judgment.
"Quite diligent, but average talent."
"If Guo Hao could work this hard, his training results would be thirty percent better. I need to have a good talk with him after class…"
"And it's about time to discuss the elite class with him…"
In the corner, Blake's sweat dripped as his arms grew heavier and his legs weaker, his bones emitting faint creaks.
Sweat gathered on his eyelashes and chin, dripping onto the mat.
Yet he kept murmuring to himself.
"Just a bit more…"
"Almost there…"
"Just a bit more!"
"I can't hold on… whew!"
Blake exhaled heavily, feeling dizzy, and quickly propped himself against the wall to steady himself. After a moment, he raised his head.
He could vaguely see a light screen fading away in front of his retinas.
[Profession: Fighter (Inactive)]
[Conditions: 1. Average attributes above 10 √, 2. Introduction to Fighting ×]
"Really…"
"It's so tantalizing!"
Blake licked his dry, cracked lips, silently savoring the bitter taste of defeat.