"Who knew the analytical functions of artificial intelligence could even optimize this world's knight breathing techniques!" Leylin exclaimed. "Begin optimization immediately!"
"Optimization initiated. Estimated time required: 125 minutes."
"Two hours and five minutes? I can wait." Leylin nodded, his earlier anxiety fading.
After an impatient wait, the AI's voice finally chimed: "Breathing technique optimization complete. Runtime reduced by 5 minutes and 23 seconds. Overall efficacy increased by 5%. Physical backlash eliminated."
"Excellent!" Leylin grinned. A 5% improvement each time would compound dramatically over dozens or hundreds of iterations.
"They say the Cross Sword technique and its accompanying breathing method were obtained by our founding patriarch from a knight's corpse after countless battles. Even among noble families, it's considered upper-mid tier."
"But with the AI's optimizations, this revised breathing technique could rival the secret manuals of small kingdoms!"
Leylin's fingers twitched with anticipation. "Transfer the optimized technique to my memory banks."
The AI complied, flooding his mind with perfected training sequences. Minutes later, Leylin rubbed his temples. "A bit dizzy, but manageable."
His mind now brimmed with training memories and insights, shortcuts that would take ordinary practitioners years of trial and error to discover.
"I never fully appreciated it before, but here—with this AI—my advantage over others is monumental." Leylin smirked. "Decades of blood-soaked experience, simulated and distilled in moments. All I need to do is follow the optimal path."
Breathing techniques came with countless pitfalls—mistakes no verbal instruction could prevent. Only through grueling practice did most practitioners learn... but the AI's modeling bypassed all that.
"Time to test it." Leylin sprawled on the floor in a starfish pose.
The optimized Cross Sword breathing method required no specific posture—only comfort.
"First, hold breath for 65 seconds. Then alternate three long breaths with one short, maintaining precise intervals..."
Following the rhythm, Leylin slipped into deep cultivation.
His body appeared asleep, but crimson flushed his face as veins pulsed at his temples. Twenty minutes later, darkish sweat oozed from his pores.
With a sudden exhale, Leylin expelled a stream of black vapor. His joints crackled like firecrackers as he rose.
"AI, display my stats."
Leylin Farrell
Strength: 0.4
Agility: 0.5
Constitution: 0.4
Status: Minor Injuries
"Switch to ten-decimal precision. Compare with pre-training data."
The hologram flickered, numbers elongating:
Strength +0.005 | Agility +0.006 | Constitution +0.004
"First-time bonus inflation," Leylin analyzed. "Twenty minutes for these gains? Sustained training will close the gap with those black-robed knights soon enough."
"AI, how to bypass the once-daily training limit?"
"Requires pharmaceutical support." A list of unfamiliar compounds scrolled past—substances from Leylin's previous life.
"Local substitutes?"
"Insufficient data. Specimen analysis required."
"At least there's a path." Leylin grimaced at his sweat-slicked body. "Need a bath."
Creeping past snoring nobles to a nearby stream, the AI suddenly warned: "Human approaching."
"What are you doing?" A voice cut through the darkness.
Leylin's pulse spiked—the speaker had closed in undetected. He spun, feigning fright.
Black-robed Anglerd stood there, his face half-shadowed. "You reek, boy."
"J-just washing, sir!"
"Make it quick." The knight vanished as silently as he'd appeared.
He sensed the impurities expelled by my training, Leylin realized. But noble heirs practicing knight techniques aren't unusual. He's no threat.
En route, Leylin sampled plants, commanding the AI: "Archive morphology. Analyze components."
Thirty species later, none proved useful. At the stream, the AI confirmed safety.
The icy water stole his breath. Gods, I miss hot showers.
Clang!
Steel shrieked as blades crossed.
"You'll never beat me, Leylin!" George laughed, hefting his greatsword.
"We'll see!" Leylin lunged, footwork precise.
Their duel continued—parries, feints, and the occasional cheat.
"Enough!" George finally dropped his blade, panting. "How'd you improve so fast? My master claimed my skills rival full knights!"
"My father taught me young. I'm just... remembering." Leylin reddened convincingly. "Once I'm stronger, I'll break Olin's legs!"
George snorted. "At this rate, you could take him now."
"Five against one's still bad odds." Leylin's gaze turned speculative. "What's a Grand Knight?"
"Peak warriors!" George's eyes gleamed. "They shrug off cavalry charges! But become a wizard, and even Grand Knights are insects to crush."
"Then why do those black-robes treat us apprentices coldly?"
"Dunno. But wizard status trumps all." George shrugged. "Race you back?"
"One last bout." Leylin grinned. AI: Analyze opponent. Simulate takedown.
Blue gridlines overlaid his vision. Attack vector: 98.99% right arm strike. Counter: sidestep, jumping slash.
George charged exactly as predicted. Leylin pivoted—
Crash!
The greatsword flew from George's grip, Leylin's blade at his ribs.
"How?!"
"Pattern recognition." Leylin sheathed his sword. "Everyone has tells."
George stared like he'd grown horns. "With talent like this, you belong in the Royal War Academy!"