Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 810: Hellish Training [Bonus]

Feng’s shoulders sagged with visible relief. She looked toward the old man once more, and the tiniest flicker of a smirk touched her lips before she sat back down and resumed her own work. ’Perhaps he isn’t such a bad guy... And Uncle certainly needs a master who knows what he’s doing... Because I certainly don’t...’ she thought inwardly, having been greatly worried about how she would guide him through the twelve main meridian openings.

The training had resumed. The day had barely begun.

Soon, the sun hung higher, its heat pressing down like a second weight on Quinlan’s back. After the stances, the old man only said, "Push-ups."

A wry smile emerged on Quinlan’s face, greatly wishing to smack the old bastard at least once. Ideally more.

But with ragged breath and twitching muscles, Quinlan dropped to the ground, this time into a push-up position. His arms were already trembling from before, but he didn’t let that stop him from doing his best.

When it came to grinding, not many people were more motivated than him. Although he didn’t believe building greater physical foundations was the correct move, once he decided to trust the old man as well as his girls back home, he was all in and was going to train so hard that even the old man would have to acknowledge how amazing his student was.

He braced his palms on the scorched stone and pushed down with clenched teeth.

But then, without any warning or prior explanation, Feng stepped onto his back.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"While you were busy having an epic staredown with the ground, the master had gestured me to help you out, Uncle," she said excessively smugly, folding her legs beneath her like she was on a silk cushion instead of a sweaty, trembling back. "A great man with eight hot babes at his side should be able to handle a little extra weight, no?"

"... You’re enjoying this too much."

"One," she began to count with a sweet, sweet voice that told Quinlan she was greatly enjoying herself. "Two. Three. You better keep your core tight, Uncle."

"I think it’s about time another Heaven-Smiting Finger teaches you some manners-"

"Four."

Quinlan groaned and kept pushing. The rock scraped against his palms, his triceps screamed, and Feng swayed back and forth just enough to be annoying. Like a queen on her throne, surveying her domain, she twirled a strand of hair and added in a mock-serious tone, "Endurance, mental discipline, and humility. The traits of a great future cultivator."

1

"..."

By the time he hit two hundred, his arms were shaking with numerous veins bulging along his forearms. Sweat dripped freely off his chin, and his back felt like it was being roasted alive. Finally, he collapsed flat on the stone.

"Not bad," Feng said, hopping off with a little bounce.

"I’ll have to educate my daughters before they get to their teenage years lest they become delinquents like you. It seems you’re hopeless."

Feng smoothed her robes like she hadn’t just used a human being for a bench. "Sure, sure, Uncle~"

At that moment, as if summoned by their voices, the old man cracked one eye open from atop his rock. He didn’t move. Didn’t turn. Just spoke, voice flat.

"Lunch. Meat. Hunt. No tools."

Then his eye closed again.

Quinlan stared at him with exhausted eyes that spoke volumes of his sheer disbelief. "Hunt meat? With what?"

Feng tilted her head, deep in thought. As she was much fresher, her gears turned quicker. "We’ll have to use the terrain and teamwork to succeed."

Quinlan groaned again and forced himself upright. "I have enough money to eat in an inn for weeks..."

She held out a hand to help him up. "Let’s go, Uncle. You already know buying food isn’t going to be accepted by the master, so stop your whining."

"He doesn’t have to know... Let him starve on his damned rock..."

"Uncle!"

"Yes, yes..."

They scouted the terrain in silence for a while, skirting the edges of the plateau and venturing into a harsher part of the rocky wilderness. It wasn’t a proper forest, being too dry for that, but there were twisted shrubs, crooked stone outcroppings, and patches of tall sun-bleached grass. Tiny creatures skittered in and out of view, nimble and fast.

Their ideal targets, it seemed, were desert hares and lizard-like beasts, both being lean, twitchy, and utterly uninterested in becoming lunch.

"No tools," Quinlan muttered for the tenth time, watching a fat rabbit dart into the brush like a phantom. "No traps, no knives, no rope, not even a damn rock. What next? He’s gonna tell me to eat without chewing?"

Feng crouched beside him, peering into the shrubs. "I think chewing is allowed. Probably."

Quinlan shot her a glare. She smiled sweetly and made a zipping motion across her lips.

They made another dozen attempts. He tried ambushing one by leaping from a ledge, only to barely miss it. Feng tried creeping through the grass like a snake but stepped on a twig and scattered the entire area. Twice, he cornered a lizard against a boulder only for it to scale straight up the rock with claws like grappling hooks.

Time dragged on. The sun climbed higher, becoming oppressive and unrelenting. Sweat soaked Quinlan’s robes, and the aches from earlier training began to throb in full.

"Why are desert beasts so damned clever?" he grumbled, wiping a slick arm across his forehead. "If only I had my powers... I would be already feasting right now..."

"Your eight hot babes could feed you while you’re at it, no?" Feng mused with a cocky grin that made it obvious she thought of him to be a delirious uncle who had very vivid dreams.

Then he saw it. A lizard, bigger than the others. Long tail and glistening scales that reflected just a hint of red. It paused at the base of a slope, sniffed the air, then bolted away with great alarm.

Having had enough of failures, of the burning sun, of the damned old man meditating on his rock, of all the sweat and tears he had to go through during the ’training,’ Quinlan rushed after it with all he had.

1

The mad chase began.