Heretic Trainer: The Gym Is My Cultivation Method-Chapter 405: This Counts as Telling Them, Right?

Vargan finally stepped into Vulkran territory.

Several elders were already waiting in the courtyard, large men with scarred arms and heavy armor.

Younger warriors stood behind them, pretending not to listen too closely.

One elder stepped forward. "Patriarch. What did you see in that place they call God Archipelago?"

Vargan rolled his shoulders once. "Hmph."

He spat to the side casually. "They’re strong."

The elders narrowed their eyes.

"And?" one pressed.

Vargan scratched his beard and frowned. "And they think they can order us around."

The courtyard went silent.

"Order us?" someone growled.

"They always talk about discipline and control. And also their smug faces really irritated me," he snorted.

"Just because they are stronger, they want us to serve them."

Anger exploded instantly.

"Serve them?"

"We are Vulkran!"

Vargan watched them flare up. He folded his arms, pretending to look annoyed.

"What do you think?" he barked. "You think I liked hearing that?"

The elders’ faces turned red.

"Did you challenge them?" one asked.

Vargan shrugged. "I told them we don’t kneel."

He cracked his knuckles loudly. "So we’re settling it properly."

The elders leaned forward. "How?"

Vargan grinned wide. "A tournament."

The younger warriors behind the elders straightened instantly.

"In one week," Vargan continued. "Neutral plain. No killing. No crippling. Just fists, weapons, skills."

One elder frowned. "Only that?"

Vargan shrugged again. "That’s enough."

Another elder narrowed his eyes. "If we win?"

Vargan smirked. "Then we show them Vulkran isn’t something they can order around."

"And if we lose?" someone asked quietly.

Vargan’s grin didn’t fade. "We won’t."

He stepped forward heavily, boots hitting the stone. "They think they’re strong because they train weird."

He waved a hand roughly. "Body drills. Standing under pressure fields. Stupid God Gym."

A few younger warriors laughed.

Vargan raised his voice. "They want to show us control."

He cracked his neck again. "So we’ll show them power."

The elders nodded slowly, their anger shifting into battle focus. "What do you need from us, Patriarch?"

Vargan pointed toward them. "Pick the loud ones."

The elders blinked.

"The loud ones?" one repeated. "Yeah. The ones who always say they’re the strongest. The ones who punch boulders for fun."

He grinned wider. "If they’re so confident, let them prove it."

The elders exchanged looks.

"And you?" one asked carefully. "Will you fight?"

Vargan snorted. "If they ask."

He stretched his arms once, then rolled his shoulders. "But first, our younger generation fights."

He looked around the courtyard, scanning the warriors. "You all wanted a real fight, right?"

Several fists slammed into chests in response.

"Yes, Patriarch!"

Vargan laughed loudly. "Good! Then stop standing around!"

He pointed toward the training grounds. "Activate [Flame Burst Arena]. Double the heat."

The elders blinked.

"Double?"

"You heard me!" Vargan barked. "If they can’t handle our own heat, they’ll melt in front of that stupid God Gym."

The warriors rushed to move.

The courtyard quickly turned loud with preparation.

Vargan stood still for a moment, watching them.

One elder stepped closer and lowered his voice slightly. "Patriarch... are they really that strong?"

Vargan’s grin stayed on his face. "Hmph. Strong enough to talk big."

He turned away before the elder could see his eyes properly. "So we’ll smash that confidence."

He lifted a hand and shouted again. "One week!"

The warriors roared back.

"One week!"

Vargan’s smirk widened. "Good."

Then he muttered under his breath, barely audibly. "This can be said as telling them, right?"

He rolled his shoulders again, acting like it was nothing.

---

Sarona had also arrived at her clan.

The air around Shivera territory was cold and still.

Snow lined the stone paths. The disciples stood straight the moment they saw her.

They simply bowed.

Sarona walked forward without slowing down.

The main hall doors opened before she reached them.

Inside, the elders were already gathered.

One of them stepped forward. "Matriarch, how was the meeting?"

Sarona removed her outer cloak calmly and handed it to an attendant. "It was a waste of time."

The elders exchanged glances.

"A waste?" one asked carefully.

Sarona nodded as she walked to the center of the hall. "Yes. That faction they call God Gym."

Her lips curved slightly, but there was no warmth in it. "Loud, arrogant, and overconfident, saying that they are the strongest."

An elder frowned. "They insulted us?"

"They implied control," Sarona replied coldly. "They implied discipline."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

"Discipline?" another elder repeated, voice sharp.

Sarona’s eyes narrowed slightly. "They believe their training makes them superior."

A younger elite stepped forward. "Then we will show them otherwise."

Sarona looked at him calmly. "We will."

She moved to the raised platform and sat down. "There will be a tournament."

The room became still.

"When?"

Sarona raised one finger. "One week."

Murmurs spread quietly.

"Location?" an elder asked.

Sarona pointed to the area outside. "Neutral plain between us and Vulkran."

One elder frowned slightly. "Why accept such a thing?"

Sarona’s gaze turned sharp. "Because pride must be answered publicly."

Silence followed.

A younger disciple spoke carefully. "Is it... necessary?"

Sarona’s eyes moved toward him slowly. "Yes."

Her voice remained steady. "They also think we are like Vulkran."

Several elders stiffened.

"They compare us to that barbarian clan?" someone asked quietly.

Sarona did not smile. "They compare everyone beneath them."

The hall grew colder.

"What are the rules?" an elder asked.

Sarona told them. "No killing and no crippling."

"That favors control," one elder muttered.

"Good," Sarona replied. "Control is ours."

She leaned back slightly. "They want to demonstrate strength through strange body methods."

Her tone sharpened. "Stupid methods."

A faint, cold smile appeared. "They call it growth."

One elder stepped forward. "And what do you call it, Matriarch?"

Sarona’s eyes remained steady. "Noise."

The elders nodded slowly.

"So this tournament..." one asked.

Sarona lifted a hand. "This tournament is not about territory or even alliance. It is about pride."

Her gaze hardened. "They will learn that Shivera does not bow to loud men who shout about training."

A younger elite clenched his fists. "Who will represent us?"

Sarona stood up. "Those with composure."

She looked around the hall. "Not the emotional ones. Not the reckless ones."

Her voice lowered slightly. "If anyone loses control on that plain, they will answer to me."

The message was clear.

Several disciples straightened instantly.

An elder asked quietly, "Do you believe they are truly strong?"

Sarona’s expression did not change. "They are loud, but I believe they had the strength for that, so for a week... we have to do our best."

The snow outside continued falling lightly.

Sarona stopped near the doorway and added without turning back, "Prepare [Frost Suppression Field] training."

The elders looked surprised. "Increase output to the maximum?"

Sarona nodded. "Yes, make sure at least half of them couldn’t stand up."

Silence.

"If they collapsed here, then they couldn’t beat that stupid God Gym, so do your best," Sarona said as she left the hall.

Her steps echoed as she walked out, thinking about it too. "This also counts as telling them, right?"