After a week passed, Daniel can now cultivate the Asura essence in a stable manner but pain is still intact.

  The wooden sword felt heavier than it had any right to be.

  Daniel Maxim stood alone in the outer training yard, dawn mist clinging to the stone tiles beneath his feet. His fingers tightened around the worn hilt, knuckles pale, veins faintly bulging as force circulated through unfamiliar pathways.

  Not the heart.

  Never the heart.

  The Asura cultivation technique pulsed inside his dantian like a restrained beast—violent, hungry, demanding movement. It hated stillness. It despised hesitation.

  And Yama watched.

  Cold. Silent. Patient.

  Daniel inhaled slowly, steadying the tremor crawling up his arms. His body was still recovering from the threshold backlash two days ago. His skin remembered pain even when none was present. Every breath dragged against nerves that had learned what it meant to be pushed past survival.

  Yet he lifted the sword.

  Again.

  Again.

  Again.

  The first swing cut nothing but mist.

  His stance was wrong. Too stiff. His shoulders overcommitted, hips lagging behind. The blade wobbled at the end of the arc, betraying his lack of foundation.

  Daniel grimaced.

  “So this is swordsmanship…”

  In his previous life, strength had bent weapons to his will. In this one, the weapon demanded respect.

  He reset his posture.

  Feet shoulder-width apart. Knees bent just enough to sink his weight. Spine straight, but not rigid. The Crimson House manuals he’d skimmed through his memories surfaced faintly—basic principles drilled into outer disciples.

  The sword is not swung by the arms alone.

  He shifted his weight.

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  Swung again.

  Pain flared instantly.

  Not sharp—deep. Asura surged at the movement, force roaring through muscles that weren’t yet ready to bear it. His forearms screamed. His wrists felt like they’d been twisted apart from the inside.

  Daniel’s breath hitched.

  For a moment, black specks danced at the edge of his vision.

  If this were before—

  He would have collapsed.

  The Resistance to Pain title activated silently.

  The agony didn’t vanish.

  It became bearable.

  Daniel exhaled shakily and forced his grip to remain steady.

  “So that’s the difference,” he muttered.

  Without the title, the pain alone would’ve shattered his concentration. His Asura force would’ve spiraled out of control, tearing muscle fibers and rupturing internal channels.

  He lowered the sword.

  Then raised it again.

  This time, he didn’t swing.

  He held.

  One breath.

  Two.

  Three.

  Asura raged, pressing outward, demanding release. Sweat formed along his temples, sliding down his jaw. His muscles quivered under the strain of containment.

  Yama observed.

  And Daniel understood.

  Asura took everything.

  But Yama decided when.

  He adjusted his grip—not tighter, but cleaner. Less force in the fingers, more alignment through the wrist. He let the sword’s weight settle into his stance instead of fighting it.

  Then he moved.

  The swing was slower.

  Controlled.

  Still ugly—but the blade no longer wobbled.

  A faint system chime echoed in his mind.

  [Sword Practice Detected

  Beginner Condition: Maintain correct posture through ten consecutive swings.

  Failure Penalty: Temporary loss of muscle coordination. ]

  Daniel’s lips twitched.

  “Of course.”

  He swung again.

  Fourth swing—pain intensified.

  Fifth—his shoulders burned.

  Sixth—Asura surged violently, force slamming against his dantian like a beast clawing at a cage.

  Daniel’s vision blurred.

  Hold it.

  Seventh swing.

  His knees nearly buckled.

  Eighth.

  Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  Ninth.

  His arms felt detached, as if they belonged to someone else.

  On the tenth swing—

  Something clicked.

  Not in his body.

  In his understanding.

  The sword stopped being an object he moved.

  It became an extension of balance.

  The arc completed cleanly.

  The mist parted.

  [Condition Fulfilled

  Sword Familiarity increased.

  Strength +1

  Agility +1 ]

  Daniel staggered back, planting the sword into the ground to keep himself upright. His chest heaved, lungs burning as if he’d run for miles.

  But he was smiling.

  Barely.

  “I didn’t die,” he whispered.

  That alone felt like victory.

  He sank to one knee, resting his forehead against the hilt. Asura simmered, displeased but restrained. Yama remained silent, as always.

  Daniel looked at his trembling hands.

  Swordsmanship wasn’t about explosive growth.

  It was repetition.

  Endurance.

  Control.

  And pain.

  Lots of pain.

  “If I can survive this,” he said quietly, eyes hardening, “then the Fifth Brother won’t break me.”

  The wooden sword rested against his shoulder as he stood once more.

  The duel was approaching.

  And for the first time—

  Daniel Maxim was no longer completely unarmed.

  Now Daniel have the basic understanding of Yama Sword Art First Form and Asura Cultivation Technique.

  [ Stats Window:

  Strength : 19

  Agility : 18

  Mentality : 30

  Intelligence : 22

  Mana : 18 ]