Chapter 5: The Limit

Master Kui mixed some water in a basin, then poured the medicinal powders in according to the prescribed proportions. Using his bare hands, he stirred until the mixture became a thick, sticky paste.

“Take off your clothes; let’s test it first,” Master Kui said.

Zhang Ji cooperatively removed his shirt.

Master Kui grabbed a handful of the paste and slapped it hard onto Zhang Ji’s back, then began spreading it evenly.

A chill spread through him, and before he could react, a fiery pain like countless needles pricking him surged forth, accompanied by an indescribable itching he couldn’t scratch.

He gritted his teeth, suppressing any sound.

“It would have been better to do a medicinal bath—that would ease the pain more—but conditions aren’t right now, so we have to apply it directly. The irritation will be much stronger,” Master Kui observed, watching Zhang Ji clench his jaw.

“Can we start now?” Zhang Ji asked.

“Yeah, we can.”

Master Kui nodded and gently struck his back with a palm.

“Pfft!”

The solid force radiated evenly across his back.

Zhang Ji staggered; if Master Kui hadn’t grabbed him, he would have been thrown off entirely.

But Master Kui didn’t stop; he held Zhang Ji, patting and repeatedly applying the medicinal paste.

The pain intensified, yet the unbearable itching was somewhat suppressed. Zhang Ji found it hard to describe the sensation; even his breathing changed.

“Your breathing rhythm is off!” Master Kui reminded.

Zhang Ji hurriedly adjusted his breath.

After about half an hour, Zhang Ji’s entire upper body was flushed red and coated in a layer of gray paste.

“Now for the lower half. You apply the medicine yourself,” Master Kui said, tossing the paste to Zhang Ji.

Zhang Ji obediently began smearing it over his legs.

“You should apply some there too. You don’t want to have such an obvious weak spot besides your nine orifices,” Master Kui advised.

Zhang Ji turned around, gritted his teeth, and applied the paste all around.

“Hiss!”

Right after finishing, he gasped sharply, nearly crying out, but still held back.

“Don’t stop breathing. Then strike the surrounding areas with force. The breathing technique will help evenly disperse the power through your skin until it’s as red as your upper body—that means you’re done,” Master Kui instructed.

Zhang Ji nodded, picked up a thick brick, and began hitting himself.

“You’re hitting too hard. Take it easy. Don’t use so much force just because it itches; you’ll injure your tendons or bones,” Master Kui cautioned.

Zhang Ji adjusted his strength and continued tapping.

Master Kui pointed out mistakes from time to time, and Zhang Ji learned quickly, soon mastering the basic training techniques.

The key points of the Iron Shirt technique are threefold.

First is the breathing method.

This is the core. Only by mastering the breath control to regulate qi and blood can one distribute the force throughout the body when struck.

Second is the medicine.

Without it, the body won’t heal quickly after injury, leaving chronic ailments and causing the skin to thicken unsightly, covered in calluses.

Third is the striking technique.

Different parts of the body require varying force when struck.

Too hard won’t do; too soft won’t either.

Without sufficient experience, it’s easy to cause injury.

Zhang Ji soon had his lower body reddened from the pounding.

Master Kui nodded slightly and said, “Leave your head to me. Learn from me—that’s the area where mistakes are most costly.”

“Okay,” Zhang Ji agreed.

Master Kui applied the paste all over Zhang Ji’s head, then began gently tapping.

The strikes on the scalp, assisted by the breathing technique, instantly spread the force across the entire back of the head, then the cheeks, neck...

Before sleeping, Zhang Ji reapplied the medicinal paste to speed up recovery.

The process of training then sleeping was arduous.

His skin was more fragile and sensitive, the sensation like thousands of needles poking and millions of ants biting was agonizing.

He tossed and turned, only managing to fall asleep around midnight.

At dawn, Zhang Ji woke feeling much less pain.

Looking at his skin, the medicinal paste had congealed into a chunk that peeled off with slight pressure.

The unnatural redness on his skin had faded considerably.

“Judging by your condition, apply the paste once more before heading out. After you come back and recover tonight, you can continue training,” Master Kui said from the bed.

Zhang Ji nodded in understanding and went out to get food.

...

After two continuous days of training, Zhang Ji had basically mastered the methods. He could clearly feel his body’s resistance to strikes increasing.

Yet his sensitivity hadn’t dulled much; his skin remained smooth and delicate, capable of feeling every touch.

This was authentic martial arts.

Not some flawed third-rate tricks.

“Pat, pat, pat!” Zhang Ji struck his entire body until he was a “red-skinned duck” before stopping.

Now it took even more effort to reach that level because his body’s resistance was rapidly improving; his skin and tendons had grown tougher.

Applying the medicine, the pain made him gasp sharply.

No matter how many times, the sensation always made one want to curse.

“Cherish this feeling—it means the medicine is still effective, and your body hasn’t developed resistance yet. Once you enter the advanced stage, the effect will gradually weaken, and your training efficiency will slow. You know about diminishing returns, right? Before breaking your body’s limits, the closer you get to the peak, the slower the improvement. Theoretically, mastering Iron Shirt takes at least thirteen years of hard training,” Master Kui said, puffing on a cigar.

That seemed to be something Zhang Ji had brought in a box.

“Thirteen years?” Zhang Ji’s expression shifted slightly.

“That’s if you start young and build your foundation early. For a latecomer like you, completing it before forty is a sign of good talent,” Master Kui said, taking a deep drag of his cigar.

Zhang Ji was silent for a moment.

It was a harsh truth, but he still wanted to train, wanted to step into the world of martial artists.

Otherwise, what was the point of coming to this world at all?

He turned off the light and endured the pain to fall asleep.

At midnight, Zhang Ji vaguely saw a pitch-black space.

[Notification: Acquired Iron Shirt (Common) Combat Skill Essence *1. You may extract it to the Limit Space for storage.]

“What? How do I extract it?”

Zhang Ji was still a bit dazed.

[Notification: Extract Iron Shirt (Common) Combat Skill Essence *1 to Limit Space?]

“Yes?”

In the next moment, inside this space, a thumb-sized, white, translucent rhomboid structure quickly condensed and hovered in the void.

Simultaneously, outside, Zhang Ji’s body, which had just barely begun training Iron Shirt, returned to its original state, as if he had never trained at all.

Suddenly, Zhang Ji opened his eyes.

He was awake.

His gaze fixed on the darkness, his breathing quickened slightly.

The cheat is here!!

The cheat he had used before crossing over was back.

[Limit]!

That was the cheat’s name. Its function was to provide players with a space to store Combat Skill Essences and Combat Skill Crystals and to synthesize them.

The game Supreme Combat’s leveling system was complicated; it had no explicit levels, relying instead on collected skills and combat records to determine rank.

In other words, training skills improved attributes and strength, allowing participation in ranked matches to earn combat ranks.

But gaining combat skill experience became more difficult the further you progressed.

This was the diminishing returns Master Kui had mentioned.

It reflected reality but was torture for players.

You could train a skill to entry level in ten minutes, but advancing to intermediate or mastery levels would take months.

Hence, [Limit] was created.

It segmented skill practice into ten parts; each part condensed into an essence that could be temporarily stored in the Limit Space.

Once stored, it was as if you had never practiced the skill.

This might seem like self-imposed limitation, but it had a benefit.

You could relive the rapid ten-minute leveling without suffering diminishing returns.

Thus, a skill that would normally take a month to master could be completed in ten ten-minute sessions.

Moreover, its function wasn’t limited to this.

Ten skill essences of the same rank could be combined into a Combat Skill Crystal.

And as long as the ranks matched, they could be from different skill types.

Furthermore, ten Combat Skill Crystals of the same rank could be combined into a higher-ranked crystal.

In other words, Zhang Ji could train Iron Shirt endlessly, continuously upgrading and strengthening without diminishing returns or skill restrictions.

A common skill, practiced repeatedly, could reach the pinnacle.

Zhang Ji calmed his mind and began to think.

He obtained one Combat Skill Essence in three days; did this mean, relying on [Limit], he could master Iron Shirt in a month?

Even with cheats, his combat talent was truly exceptional.

Wait—if he had crossed over as a game character, it made sense.

Within the storyline, players were set as absolute martial prodigies, human peak-level talent.

Only then could they adapt to various martial arts styles and easily reach the pinnacle.

Zhang Ji’s mood fluctuated but he quickly suppressed it.

He had thought he had no cheats and a terrible starting point, but suddenly two appeared!

One was peak talent, the other was the Limit Space.

Zhang Ji settled his heart, mentally reciting “Limit.”

In the next moment, he saw that pitch-black space again, with the thumb-sized white translucent essence floating inside.

His gaze fixed on it, able to read the essence’s information.

[Iron Shirt Essence (Common)] *1.

“Common” indicated the skill’s rank.

Supreme Combat had eight skill ranks: white for Common, green for Fine, blue for Excellent, purple for Epic, red for Legendary, orange for Mythic, gold for Supreme, and dazzling for Ultimate Source.

These eight skill ranks corresponded to eight combat ranks.

Higher-ranked skills granted greater attribute and combat power bonuses.

Naturally, they were harder to train.

Without cheats or grinding extensively, even with ten years of play, one might never fully master a Mythic skill.

This was why Zhang Ji chose to use cheats.

Now, he was somewhat grateful for walking the dark path.

Had he stayed honest, he wouldn’t have this advantage!

With a thought, the essence vanished from the space, and Zhang Ji’s flesh and bones regained their toughness.

He clenched his fists involuntarily, recalling the inhuman power of peak fighters in the game, ambition flickering faintly in his eyes.