In the days that followed, Ye Chen became a changed person.
No—more accurately, he found his rhythm.
He left before dawn each day and cultivated until dark. His routine became meticulously disciplined: mornings practicing resonance capture, mornings training physical reaction speed, afternoons honing perception abilities, evenings reviewing the day's progress and setbacks.
Physical reaction training was the most grueling.
Ye Chen found a gnarled tree in the valley and tied several vines to its branches, letting them hang to the ground. Then, closing his eyes, using only Spatial Perception to locate the vines, he ran and weaved through them.
At first, he tripped every few steps. His knees bruised, his palms bled, his face acquired several scratches. But he never uttered a sound, simply getting up and continuing.
One day failed, two days, three.
By the tenth day, he could jog among the vines with eyes closed.
By the twentieth day, he could run swiftly without the vines touching him.
By the thirtieth day, he had added rolls, leaps, sudden stops, and other movements—his body moved as if with its own awareness, instinctively avoiding every obstacle.
"Physical reaction speed has caught up with perception." Wiping sweat from his forehead beneath the tree, Ye Chen smiled with satisfaction.
But this was not enough.
Perception and physical reaction were merely foundations. True combat required offensive capabilities.
And offense was precisely where the Space-Time attribute was considered "weakest."
In this world, all offensive methods relied on Lingyuan "output." Fire attributes could release flames, wind attributes could produce wind blades, thunder attributes could summon lightning—every attribute had direct attack methods.
But Space-Time?
Could time directly harm someone? No. Could space directly harm someone? No.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
But Ye Chen thought differently.
Sitting beneath the old tree, he picked up a twig and began drawing on the ground.
"If space can be perceived, it must 'exist.' If it exists, it should be 'influenceable.'"
He drew a dot, then another nearby.
"The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. But if I can 'fold' space so the two points coincide…"
He paused, frowning.
"No, with my current Lingyuan reserves, folding space is too distant. I need a more direct, less energy-intensive method."
He stared at the drawing for a long time. Then a thought flashed through his mind.
"I don't need to fold entire spaces—just… cut."
If space could be folded, it should be cuttable. Like paper—you could fold it, and you could tear it.
"Space cutting."
Ye Chen's eyes lit up.
But this idea was audacious. Cutting space meant creating a "discontinuity" in an otherwise continuous fabric. Anything passing through that discontinuity would be severed in two. This required extreme precision and sufficient Lingyuan support.
"Start with the basics."
Ye Chen closed his eyes, concentrating his consciousness on his palm. He attempted to create a minuscule spatial discontinuity—so small it was almost imperceptible, so tiny it would not affect the surrounding environment.
First try—nothing.
Second—still nothing.
Third—a sudden sting in his palm. His eyes flew open. A thin bloodstain had appeared across his palm, as if slashed by an invisible blade.
"It worked?" Ye Chen was both surprised and thrilled.
Though the cut was shallow, though the sting made him wince, this was proof—he had done it. He had created a tiny spatial discontinuity on his palm, and that discontinuity had cut his skin.
"Too weak, and control is unstable." Ye Chen examined the wound, his mind racing. "But the direction is right. With practice, someday, I can cut anything."
He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, bandaged the wound hastily, and continued practicing.
This time, he was more cautious. Instead of attempting spatial cuts, he practiced "sensing" weak points in space.
He discovered that space was not uniform. Some areas were "thick," some "thin." The thin areas were like the weak seams in fabric where tearing was easiest. If he could locate these seams and apply force along them, the difficulty of cutting space would decrease dramatically.
"Like cutting diamond—first find its cleavage planes."
Ye Chen recalled an analogy from his past life. Diamond was the hardest natural substance, yet it had cleavage planes. With the right force along specific directions, a diamond could be split. Space was similar.
He began training his ability to "find the seams."
Day after day.
By the fortieth day, he could locate the three weakest points in the surrounding space within three seconds.
By the fiftieth day, while finding the seams, he could condense his Lingyuan into a thin line and "slice" along them.
By the sixtieth day, he finally succeeded—a fist-sized stone, lightly "sliced" along a spatial seam, split silently into two halves.
The cut surface was smooth as polished glass, as if made by the world's sharpest blade.
Ye Chen stared at the two halves of the stone for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
Not a triumphant laugh, not a wild grin—a calm, knowing smile.
Because from this moment on, he knew—he was no longer "useless."
Time passed swiftly.
In the blink of an eye, two and a half months had gone by.
The changes in Ye Chen during these two and a half months were remarkable.
His Lingyuan reserves had reached the level of an average six-year-old. Though still behind the prodigies, it was no longer the pitiful "one-tenth" of before.
His Time Perception could last a full minute. In that minute, everything around him slowed, allowing him to clearly predict every movement's trajectory.
His Spatial Perception could cover the entire valley—every subtle change in any corner could not escape his awareness.
And Space Cutting, though still unstable with only a thirty percent success rate, was terrifying when it succeeded. He could cut stone, wood, even leave deep scratches in iron.
More importantly, his body had undergone a complete transformation.
Two and a half months of relentless training had made him sturdy and agile. He could run easily on rugged mountain paths, weave among vines with ease, and execute complex maneuvers in an instant. His reaction speed, explosive power, and endurance far exceeded those of his peers.
But he knew this was not enough.
The true test was combat.
And combat was precisely what he lacked most.