Items purchased at the market can be added to or removed from the backpack at any time, which is quite convenient.
Shanu first took out his katana, "Masamune."
He unsheathed the sword.
The slender blade gleamed like frosty light in the sunlight, yet maintained a surprisingly slender curve.
He held it before his eyes, examining it carefully.
The thin edge of the blade shifted in color, starting with a deep-sea indigo at the hilt and fading to a nearly transparent pale white at the tip.
He drank the rest of his soda in one gulp, threw the empty can up, and with a slight swing, in a flash, he seamlessly cut it into several pieces.
The afterimage of the blade's tip swirled across the air, leaving a silver trail like a firefly.
"A good sword," Shanu said with admiration.
It had the right weight and felt great in the hand.
The blacksmith shop in the town next to his hometown was well-known in the nearby archipelago. When he was obsessed with swordsmanship, he had excitedly visited it.
But no matter which sword was inside, the difference between this one and the sword was vast.
He sheathed the sword.
The blade's length wasn't a problem; he was just entering his growth spurt. Once he grew taller, it would be a perfectly suitable sword.
Returning it to his backpack, Shanu opened the two Rokushiki manuals again.
The moment he opened them, a random dice roll was completed, revealing the results: "Soru" and "Tekkai."
"Good luck," the boy said, feeling more cheerful. These two physical techniques, the former focusing on physical movement and the latter strengthening defense, were exactly what he favored.
With a thought, he opened the Tekkai first.
Manuals unfolded directly before his eyes like a system dashboard, with pages turning with a thought, somewhat like an e-book.
The text was incredibly detailed, even including detailed breakdowns of each move.
For more obscure sections, a vague blue figure would appear alongside, demonstrating the techniques methodically and intuitively.
His previous rapid mastery of the "Breathing Fist" was also due to this teaching method.
"The entry barrier isn't high, but mastering it will still require considerable effort."
After a quick glance at the two Rokushiki manuals, Shanu's eyes flickered as he made a rough estimate.
His current physique had vastly improved compared to when he first began practicing Breathing Fist.
Coupled with Breathing Fist's unique ability to quickly dissipate muscle fatigue, his progress in physical training would undoubtedly surpass that of an average person.
Even a conservative estimate suggested he could master both techniques within a year at the very least.
"Within a year?"
Shanu shook his head slightly. Previously, he would have been content with such a pace.
But now, with Arlong as a heavy burden weighing on his mind, he had to progress much faster!
Fortunately, he had been incredibly lucky this time, having found a useful bless item.
His gaze fell on the last item in his backpack, his eyes filled with unquenchable anticipation.
He had never before possessed any items to aid his training. His current strength was entirely due to his own painstaking, step-by-step training.
Now, it was time to experience the feeling of speed-running!
Half an hour later.
On the first floor below, in a large, empty cabin, Shanu glanced around and nodded with satisfaction.
This had once been the reserve arsenal, but due to the relative safety of the Gatt's route in recent years, it had been vacant and neglected, covered in dust and cluttered with cobwebs.
When Shanu approached Gatt and asked for a room to practice martial arts, the old man immediately remembered this spot and quickly arranged for a cleanup.
He brought in several sandbags and some discarded wood, tying them together into crude wooden stakes with hemp rope.
He even provided a mirror, water, and towels, and forbade the crew from disturbing him, which truly touched Shanu's heart.
"Let's begin," Shanu said, carefully placing the statue of Hercules in a corner. Then, with a long exhale, he began jogging in circles to warm up.
After his warm-up, he didn't immediately begin practicing the Six Forms, opting instead to continue with his "Breathing Fist."
After all, the bottlenecks of this style were becoming apparent.
If one could achieve a breakthrough to Great Perfection sooner, the combat power boost it could provide would far surpass the six entry-level techniques.
Time passed in a flash.
Six days later, the Gatt sailed steadily across the ocean, facing the afternoon sun.
This route proved to be quite safe. They encountered no accidents along the way, nor did they encounter any of those pirate ships that liked to fly the skull and crossbones.
Inside the basement, the sound of bangs continued incessantly. Strong figures moved back and forth between the wooden stakes and sandbags, leaving the wooden floor drenched in sweat.
"One thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine... two thousand, reel!"
The count echoed in the enclosed space. The boy's spine was like a fully drawn capstan bowstring. The moment his fist touched the teak stake, he suddenly retracted his force, sending invisible waves seeping into it. Snap! Ring-shaped cracks appeared on the surface of the stake.
"Whoosh..."
Shanu suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, white smoke billowing from his body, and his breathing as heavy as a bellows.
With every inhale, his diaphragm descended to twice the depth of a normal person's, the muscles between his ribs bulging like sails. And the moment he exhaled, his larynx vibrated, the pressure exerted by the frantic expansion of his alveoli visible to the naked eye.
He closed his eyes to regulate his breathing, and it took a long time for it to gradually calm down.
As he wiped his sweat with a dry towel, scalding steam continued to rise from the pores.
Shanu tilted his head back and gulped down a glass of water. When it was empty, he tossed it aside and wiped his mouth vigorously.
"Great!"
The deep voice that emanated from his throat still felt unfamiliar to him, even to him.
It had previously held a certain childishness, but now it was as if it had skipped the final stage of teenage voice change and become a fully adult voice.
"Six days, just six days!"
Shanu stepped in front of the mirror, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet. Gazing at the familiar yet unfamiliar self within, he grinned, his eyes filled with satisfaction.
These past few days...
He spent more than twelve hours each day here, immersing himself in arduous training. Beyond himself, perhaps only the silent statues in the corner knew the depth of his hardship and sweat.
But the results of his practice would bear witness!
On the sixth day, today, he had completely broken through his bottleneck, achieving mastery of his "Breathing Fist" technique!
The barrier that had previously constrained his physical limits burst like a fragile glass container, shattering piece by piece.
Immediately, it expanded and remolded, its capacity far exceeding its previous capacity, giving him a sense of transcendence, a commanding presence, a transformation into a whole new species.
The change in his voice was one of the most noticeable changes brought about by this breakthrough, yet it was also the most insignificant.
Shanu studied himself in the mirror.
His features remained handsome, but his eyebrows had darkened, his jawline more defined, and his black hair, which had once reached only his ears, had grown wildly, covering his shoulders.
And his height had unexpectedly increased by more than ten centimeters!
From the neck down, his muscles bulged, his shoulder blades bulging like battering rams. When his latissimus dorsi muscles stretched to their full potential, they obscured half the mirror.
Most terrifying of all was his spine: thirty-three vertebrae throbbing beneath the membrane, as if a living being lurked within. When he arched his body slightly, his entire spine tensed like a heavily bowed crossbow, emitting a teeth-grinding sound.
His body, six days ago, seemed so frail compared to today. He stood before the mirror for a long time, examining himself up and down, like an ancient craftsman admiring a masterpiece he had crafted, never tired of it.
Snap!
He suddenly hooked two wooden stakes with his feet, kicked them upward, and grasped each in his hands.
With a slight push, both stakes were crushed, shattering into countless tiny fragments that fell to the ground.
The young man opened his arms again, wantonly feeling the immense power surge through him, far greater than ever before. Unable to contain his joy, he threw back his head and burst into laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!!!!"
His laughter shook the ceiling dust, sending it crashing down onto the deck.
On the deck.
Gatt, leaning against the railing and leisurely smoking his pipe, felt the wooden planks tremble violently beneath his feet. He remembered that Shanu had been sleeping and eating in the basement for the past few days, never emerging for air.
A wave of worry washed over him.
After a moment's hesitation, he descended the spiral staircase and reached the spare armory, slowly raising his right hand.
Creaking!
Just as he was about to knock, the wooden door suddenly slammed open from the inside, startling him and making him step back.
"Huh?"
The person opposite him glanced down, noticing him and letting out a soft exclamation. Old Gatt looked up at the familiar face, seemingly unfazed. Then, looking down, the young man was dressed in his bulky coat, and there was no visible change.
But something felt strange... something was wrong!
Suddenly realizing something, Gatt opened his mouth wide, and the pipe he was holding dropped to the ground with a clatter.
The boy had been more than half a head shorter than him when they first met, so why was he the one who had to look up now?!
"Mr. Gatt, what are you doing here? What a coincidence."
The black-haired boy in front of him scratched his head and smiled shyly. "Well, I haven't eaten for a long time, and I'm feeling a little hungry. I was just about to go to the restaurant. Do you want to join me?"