Qian Ye walked to the edge of the sofa, close enough for Zhang Jing to reach out and touch him.
Zhang Jing extended her hands, continuously pressing and caressing Qian Ye, as wisps of primal force penetrated his body, testing the reactions of each part. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of numbness, soreness, and pain, so intense it was even more unbearable than a whip lashing.
Qian Ye had to divert his attention. He stood straight, motionless, but his gaze wandered, looking around aimlessly. His eyes inadvertently fell on Zhang Jing’s chest, and he froze in place. Her bathrobe gaped open, revealing her full, white bosom from Qian Ye’s angle. As she moved, a hint of red flashed in his vision.
This was a sight Qian Ye had never seen before. Though he did not fully understand what he saw, he could not resist the instinctive draw of that white expanse.
After a while, Zhang Jing said, “Alright, I have examined your condition. Let me think… It seems the damage to your node is worse than I expected, but there is still hope. When you train in the future, don’t rush. Keep the pace within your tolerance. You will need at least half again as much primal force as a normal person to ignite this node.”
Zhang Jing then provided more detailed instructions on training before dismissing Qian Ye.
Back in his dorm, Qian Ye found it impossible to sleep that night, his mind filled with visions of those bountiful curves. It was from that night that Qian Ye realized there were differences between girls and boys, beyond what he had learned in biology class. These were not dry numbers or flat illustrations.
But the next day’s excruciating pain quickly drove all those newfound thoughts from Qian Ye’s mind. He endured the agony, nearly fainting several times. This was an inhuman pain, one that would drive most people to nervous breakdowns. Qian Ye managed to survive only because of his First Rank Soldier physique.
Having learned this lesson, Qian Ye became extremely cautious, carefully controlling the tides of primal force, keeping the impact just within his limits.
This training session was especially grueling. When the bell rang, Qian Ye hardly believed he had managed to stay awake through two hours. He also came to a sobering conclusion: he needed not just half again as much primal force as a normal cultivator, but three times as much, to ignite the node in his chest.
Though this meant accumulating more primal force, cultivating two nodes would always be faster than one. Qian Ye’s progress plummeted, going from being among the top to almost the bottom of the class. But there were no shortcuts in cultivation. After accepting this reality, Qian Ye’s mindset stabilized, and he no longer felt rushed.
He could still reach Second Rank, even if it took more time. How many human cultivators never reached Second Rank in their lifetimes? Moreover, by reaching Second Rank, Qian Ye would meet the minimum requirement for graduating from the Netherworld Training Camp, giving him a chance to escape this hell.
So Qian Ye began following a structured regimen of training, cultivation, and study.
Perhaps by letting go of attachments, or through focus, Qian Ye’s training results improved rapidly. After repeated painful refinement, his cultivated primal force was much denser and more powerful. With this, he could just barely keep up in combat classes.
By mid-ten, Qian Ye and his peers had mastered basic unarmed combat and progressed to weapon training. The first weapon was the blade—long and short, various types.
From that day on, many children began bearing injuries. They were all now First Rank Soldiers, with greatly enhanced physical capabilities, and their attacks began to incorporate primal force, making every strike serious. Over time, they learned to use primal force for defense.
At this point, Qian Ye began to show extraordinary power. Facing older bullies, Qian Ye favored a wound-for-wound approach. A knife or punch might leave him seemingly unfazed, like pain had vanished, allowing for precise and lethal counterattacks. But a single cut from Qian Ye left a significant wound.
One older boy and Qian Ye exchanged over ten strikes, ending with the older boy screaming and falling, while Qian Ye, covered in blood, stood firm, his hand steady on the blade. Compared to the daily agony of cultivation, this pain was nothing.
From then on, no one wanted to challenge Qian Ye in combat classes.
The older boy had been ranked fifth in combat strength. He was stronger and more skilled in every aspect, yet he was defeated in real combat. In the training camp, the children learned early to judge by results.
When Qian Ye turned eleven, the children completed their anatomy courses. Then, Old Shen Tu brought a peculiar corpse—a giant spider several meters large!
Later, Qian Ye learned this was not an ordinary spider but a powerful branch of the dark races: the Human-faced Spider Demon. The one before them was merely the lowest rank, still unevolved into its humanoid form, thus called a Cave Spider.
From that day, the children started encountering various dark races. By the end of the year, they had seen all known dark races, except the most mysterious and powerful—the descendants of demons. This included the Blood Race and werewolves, who looked almost identical to humans.
The children, now young men and women, still lived together, bathing and changing clothes in the same place. But the physical differences between boys and girls were becoming apparent. Some early-developing boys used this as an excuse to harass the girls, though they dared not go further due to the strict rules.
Qian Ye found himself increasingly thinking back to the scenes in Zhang Jing’s room.
When Qian Ye turned twelve, the training camp held a special event: the coming-of-age ceremony.
On that day, all the boys and girls were gathered in a hall and given a meal laced with aphrodisiacs. Soon, Qian Ye felt his mind fog, his body heating up, and strange thoughts surfacing. He could no longer think clearly and began to succumb to his surging instincts.
Many naked adults entered the hall, pairing off with the children. The hall quickly transformed into a world of carnal desires.
Zhang Jing and Long Hai patrolled expressionlessly, occasionally cracking a whip. They were unaffected by the scene. However, some weaker instructors and senior guards joined in the revelry. For these girls, this was a perk of their duty.
But the instructors and guards restrained themselves, ensuring the girls weren’t damaged. Anyone who lost control faced the immediate wrath of Zhang Jing and Long Hai’s whips.
From that day, the physical restrictions between boys and girls were lifted. For weaker girls, true hell began.
This was the ethos of the Netherworld Training Camp. No weakness was allowed in its graduates. A girl’s body could be a weakness, but also a weapon.
A few girls disappeared, their families ensuring they skipped the ceremony.
The coming-of-age ritual lasted all night. Qian Ye, like the others, eventually fell into a deep, drowsy sleep, waking up at noon the next day, the drug effects finally fading.
The events of the night seemed like a dream, but Qian Ye knew what had happened.
Life returned to normal after the ceremony. Qian Ye continued his usual routine of cultivation, study, combat training, and mechanical lessons.
The biggest changes were in the girls, many of whom found male partners. Only the strongest and those who skipped the ceremony remained independent.
Song Zining, ever the top student, claimed two beautiful girls. No one, including the girls, objected.
In the Netherworld Training Camp, one had to win to protest.
Qian Ye remained alone, immersed in his own world, indifferent to the class changes. Each cultivation session was a hellish experience, forging his indomitable will but leaving no room for other interests.
For him, igniting the qi sea node and escaping this hell was the only thing that mattered. What he desired lay beyond this isolated valley.
One day, upon returning to his dorm, Qian Ye saw Song Zining leaning against the door, gazing at the sky, contemplating his path and future.
Qian Ye nodded slightly, about to enter when Song Zining called out, “Qian Ye, wait a moment.”
“What is it?” Qian Ye was puzzled.
Song Zining smiled, “Good news. Something to help you grow faster.”
He glanced at a group of passing students, pointing at a particularly pretty girl. “That one. Fang Minghui, come here!”
The girl, flustered, came over without objection, standing before Song Zining and Qian Ye.
Song Zining looked her over and said directly, “You’ll sleep with Qian Ye tonight and be with him from now on.”
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