Chapter 104: Techniques of Channeling Energy [Seeking Support]

For Tang Shen, the house was fine—just a change to a better place to live, a better place to rest. But for others, it meant a complete transformation in their way of life, a newfound security far beyond what ordinary people could imagine.

Opening the official website, sure enough, the information had been updated.

The update notice caught Tang Shen’s attention, and he twitched at the mention—what a headache.

Seven years!

When he first entered the game, he had been stunned.

However, the notice also explained that this was a brand-new update, a major overhaul spanning a great leap in time, something unlikely to happen again.

What truly piqued Tang Shen’s interest was another piece of update info: attack skills also had levels—Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Legendary.

Of course, there was actually a level below Bronze, called the Basic level, weaker than Bronze, such as the Basic Swordsmanship.

But the Basic level was a different matter altogether, not really classifiable by rank, so it wasn’t included.

An example was given—Draw Slash was a Bronze-level skill, but when mastered to its peak, it rivaled Silver.

That meant Tang Shen’s Draw Slash had already reached the power of Silver.

His heart swelled with satisfaction.

At the same time, curiosity stirred. The awakened Haki he possessed—the untrained variant of the Conqueror’s Haki—what level was it? At least Gold, maybe even Legendary.

In his eyes, the Conqueror’s Haki was definitely not as useless as he had thought, merely for intimidation; it must have other powers—probably, very likely.

The role of achievement points remained unexplained.

Tang Shen guessed it might be a hidden system, like many online games that have secret mechanics players must discover through exploration. That had to be it.

Just like in his past life, martial arts manuals still applied in the game world—only through practice could one truly grasp them.

He then entered the game forum, and sure enough, it was unusually lively today.

Three days later, the server finally reopened, and everyone was overwhelmed with excitement.

Of course, the hottest topic was the absurd seven-year game time gap.

Many players who had already found safe places to survive had to start over.

Seven years in the game—things had not remained static.

For example, a noodle shop owner had become a pirate, so the shop was closed and the player unemployed; or a low-level warrior had since been promoted to a Navy Captain at headquarters. These things happened.

Many players were utterly dumbfounded by the world seven years later.

Unlike typical online games where NPCs remain unchanged, here, as time passed, everything evolved, especially over seven years.

Many NPCs had long since passed away.

Some were unlucky, others fortunate.

For instance, entering the Navy Base’s lower levels—some fellow supply soldiers had been promoted to officers and hadn’t left yet; if you had gotten along well with them before, it could be an opportunity.

Of course, if they had been transferred, there was nothing to be done.

Maybe you were expelled for disappearing seven years and had to rejoin anew.

The lucky ones were few.

But at least many players glimpsed hope.

Yet there were those disappointed, facing the cold game world, crouching and clutching themselves in sorrow.

So the forum was mostly filled with complaints and curses, many sharing their anxious experiences with a wry smile, treating it as a joke.

More often, players lamented the changes after seven years—who had become what, NPCs they once knew transformed—and regretted not having fostered better relationships.

Regret—but no remedy for regret.

Rare were the posts recounting good fortune.

The clever ones hid behind their computers, quietly chuckling at the discovery that this world was far less safe than it appeared.

After a brief browse, Tang Shen closed the forum, slipped into bed, and quickly fell asleep.

Quiet, peaceful, steady, serene.

The next day, he woke up on time, refreshed and spirited.

He washed, cooked, ate breakfast, then lay back down and logged into the game.

Today, Gu Yina, dressed in her black training suit, arrived ten minutes earlier than usual, her eyes fixed anxiously on the spot where Tang Shen had disappeared. Though calm outwardly, her heart was uneasy—she feared another disappearance, another seven years.

Despair is cruelest when, just as hope appears, it is snatched away, plunging you into deeper despair.

Twisting the hem of her clothes around her fingers endlessly, Gu Yina’s calm facade barely concealed the turmoil within.

Until finally, a figure slowly materialized in her sight.

Instantly, all her anxious emotions quieted; every trace of unease vanished as the figure appeared.

That was enough.

Seeing Gu Yina’s smiling face, Tang Shen smiled back and said, “Let’s start training.”

“Yes, Master.”

Before dawn, before the rooster crowed, the two figures had already begun their wholehearted training.

For a week, Tang Shen trained relentlessly, pushed perhaps by Gu Yina’s pressure, experiencing a sudden surge in progress.

In the Stone Pillar Stance, the weight on his legs reached fifteen hundred jin—his leg strength equivalent to twenty thousand jin—his squatting stance as solid as bronze.

His agility technique improved as well, adding a “Bamboo Forest Entry” skill—based on swift eyes and fast feet—moving as if on flat ground, never touching a single bamboo stalk, reaching the extreme of not even brushing a leaf.

Practicing swordsmanship in the sea, Tang Shen no longer satisfied himself with swings above the surface; he submerged underwater.

As his physique strengthened, so did his lung capacity, yet without special training, his lung capacity soon reached its natural limit.

Therefore, Tang Shen deliberately exercised to expand his lung capacity.

This was important not only for himself but also for the safety of his beloved disciple.

Facing various opponents on the open sea, especially in the Grand Line, where Devil Fruit users were abundant with bizarre powers, one false move could send you underwater.

Mastering this skill might prove invaluable at critical moments, and it truly pushed one to their limits quickly.

However, Tang Shen never allowed both himself and Gu Yina to train underwater simultaneously—if he died, he could respawn in the game; Gu Yina could not.

They took turns, one always on standby.

Compared to underwater sword training, practicing beneath a waterfall brought visible improvements—pressure resistance doubled.

Meanwhile, Tang Shen began teaching Gu Yina simple techniques for projecting force.

Thus the days passed in rigorous preparation beneath the calm surface of a world forever changed.