Martial Era: Starting With The Strongest Talent-Chapter 34: Talk With The Manager
Adam lay on the bed, eyes fixed on the glowing panel hovering above him.
Nothing had changed. His special talents were still the same because he had nothing new to equip, mutated goblins or not, their talents had remained Poison G and Poison F.
Only their levels had increased, not their talents.
He exhaled and shut the panel with a thought.
"Why don’t I train a little."
The words slipped out quietly, more to break the lingering heaviness in his chest than anything else.
He sat up, stood, and began shoving the few pieces of worn-out furniture toward the walls.
Once he made enough space in the middle of the cramped apartment, he took his position.
He lowered himself into a deep Horse Stance, thighs parallel to the ground, spine straight as a spear.
His arms extended to his front, palms facing forward.
He inhaled slowly.
One... two... three...
Counting up to fifteen as he let his lungs empty and his muscles tremble under the stillness.
Then, without rising from the stance, he drew both arms inward, palms still forward, pulling as if dragging a massive, invisible chain toward his chest.
He exhaled for fifteen counts, tightening his core and legs until they burned.
Next, he shifted, rising just slightly and clenching his right fist as it coiled back to his hip in a sharp spiral while his left hand stayed open as a guard.
He held the tension for three silent counts.
Then,
Bang!
He snapped his waist around and unleashed his right fist in an explosive thrust, stopping just shy of full extension.
His center of gravity dropped instantly back into the deep stance.
"Ha!"
The shout echoed off the peeling walls.
He repeated the sequence, this time with the left fist.
By the time the second punch landed, exhaustion slammed into him.
His legs quivered. His breath came in thin strands.
But he didn’t stop.
He grit his teeth and forced himself through the cycle again and again, ninty nine more times.
Sweat poured down his face and soaked into his clean shirt.
His muscles screamed in protest, but he kept punching until the final strike left his arms numb.
Finally, he rose out of the stance, swaying slightly.
He placed both palms over his chest, facing downward, and slowly guided them toward his abdomen as he exhaled.
The moment his hands reached his lower belly
Essence flowed.
A cool, refreshing current washed into his body like a breeze on the hottest day of summer.
It sank into his bloodstream, spreading clarity, before fading as quickly as it came.
Adam clicked his tongue.
"There’s still not much difference."
Adam wiped the sweat from his skin and rinsed himself off before collapsing onto the bed again.
The brief surge of essence he’d gained from his practice was laughably small, nowhere near enough to push him toward the Martial Apprentice rank.
A G-rank cultivation talent.
It just wasn’t it.
Even though the movements he practiced came from the standard cultivation technique humanity created when essence first appeared, Adam already knew the truth: even using an upgraded cultivation technique wouldn’t change anything.
His bottleneck wasn’t the method.
It was him.
"Should I have just equipped one of their F-rank cultivation talents?"
His voice was barely a whisper.
He was referring to Agnes and Favor, the two Martial Apprentices, who’d died during his first run in Gob Valley.
He never equipped their cultivation talents, but now the question lingered.
"Would it have made a difference?"
Adam shook his head.
"No. It wouldn’t have. It’d be faster than what I have now, but not fast enough, and using up one of my only two Soul Slots for it would be a waste."
He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as he reasoned it out again.
"Two different special talents give me far more power than an F-rank cultivation talent ever could."
He’d analyzed this from every angle, and he still believed he made the right choice.
But the thought stuck in his mind:
"If I had an extra slot... maybe I would’ve considered it."
That was the true problem.
To gain another slot, he needed to rank up. But with a G-rank cultivation talent?
That could take years.
"If only there was another way to improve my soul." he muttered.
Then, an idea sparked in his mind.
"I’ll just ask the manager tomorrow. He seems knowledgeable."
Decision made, Adam slid down fully onto the bed. His body sank into the thin, uneven mattress, but he barely noticed.
The exhaustion from a week inside the rift and the training he’d just pushed through, crashed over him like a wave.
His eyes closed.
And for the first time in days, Adam slept peacefully.
****
Adam woke before dawn, washed up, and dressed with the same calm efficiency he used in battle.
Afterward, he made a brief stop at his mother’s memorial, before heading for the Mission Hall.
He didn’t slow down.
One use of Rapid and the reception blurred past him, faces turning too late to recognize him.
It was better that way.
The manager had given Adam the go-ahead to come straight to his office for anything he needed; Adam intended to take him up on his offer.
He stopped before the manager’s office and knocked.
"Who is it?" an old voice called from inside.
Adam instantly activated [Connect].
His vision shifted, walls dissolving into outlines of essence as two soul-flames appeared inside, one positioned very close beneath the other.
He instantly shut it off, as he cleared his throat.
"It’s me, Adam. I, uh, sent a message that I’d be arriving. You must not have seen it."
He had sent no such message.
Inside, he heard a muffled curse, then frantic shuffling, clothes rustling, something hitting a desk, hushed swearing.
After a few seconds the door swung open. A flushed young woman stepped out, one of the receptionists from the reception area.
Adam said nothing as he walked in, closing the door behind him.
The manager sat behind his desk, looking equal parts embarrassed and exhausted.
"Sorry, Adam. I must have been too busy to notice your text."
"It’s understandable."
The manager gestured for him to sit.
Adam took the seat while the old man cleared his throat, trying to regain his dignity.
"It’s good you came. The higher-ups have already decided on a reward for you."
Adam lifted an eyebrow, waiting.
"Oh?" he asked, leaning forward as the manager prepared to spill the rest.
****
{Authors Note}
The difficulty encountered when practicing standard cultivation techniques is not in the physical movements themselves. Rather, the strain comes from the movements and specific breathing patterns that open the pores which absorb essence. This internal opening is the strenuous component. Consequently, even high-ranking martial artists will feel the difficulty; while a Master might not, an Expert will certainly experience the strain. That is the core principle.
