While Harold was rushing toward the instructor, his foot suddenly slipped, and he crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.

A stunned silence followed — brief, but absolute — before reality snapped back into place.

"What the hell was that? I was expecting something crazy from him, too, like Derek," Paul whispered to Mia, leaning closer.

"Same," Mia murmured back. "He even learned the Bloodmoon Rampage technique. Sure, he can only use it at night, but just learning that technique means he has to be a genius. I thought he'd at least put on a decent fight…"

Even the instructor looked momentarily taken aback. Out of everything he'd expected… that certainly wasn't it.

Harold slowly pushed himself back to his feet, dusting off his knees. He dropped into a fighting stance with a calm expression again, and then dashed forward and threw a punch.

It was… painfully clumsy.

The instructor raised a palm and blocked it easily. In fact, it felt like he could've stopped it with a single finger.

"Don't tell me this is the best you've got," the instructor said, disappointment unmistakable in his voice.

"S-Sorry, sir," Harold replied, lowering his gaze sheepishly. "I was practicing the Bloodmoon technique last night… it puts a huge strain on my body. I'm still recovering, so I'm pretty weak right now."

"I see," the instructor sighed. "Fine. I'll evaluate you properly after I see you use the technique tonight. What do you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, everyone — back to your seats."

The five students quickly returned to their spots as he made his way to the front again.

"Now that I've seen what each of you can do," he began, pacing slowly, "I know where to start your training. Today, we'll cover something basic… but the most crucial element in any fight."

He paused, allowing the silence to draw their attention.

"Movement technique."

"A cultivator's natural speed grows drastically with higher cultivation realms, but without proper movement techniques, your body is nothing more than raw, unrefined power. Speed alone won't save you. Footwork, weight control, prediction, flow.... that's what keeps you alive."

He extended a hand.

"The movement technique I'll teach you is called Lightning Pace."

"Master it, and your speed will increase tenfold without even using a drop of internal energy." His eyes gleamed with intensity. "Imagine combining it with your internal energy. Your opponents won't be able to land a single hit — unless they have extraordinary spell-casting speed and the reflexes to track your movement patterns."

He crossed his arms with a slight smirk.

"So? Interested?"

"Yes, sir!" the class answered in unison.

Even Derek felt a spark in his chest. 'Maybe I should really stick with the class for a few days… this might actually be useful.

All five were captivated by the possibilities the instructor had described.

But if only they knew…

The results sounded glorious, yes — but learning the technique itself was a nightmare of a different caliber.

After all… if mastering Lightning Pace were that easy, cultivators wouldn't still be overshadowed by Aurans and mages.

The instructor cleared his throat and began again. "This technique isn't hard to learn," he said, pacing slowly. "In fact, there's no complicated secret move or formula to memorize."

The students blinked, confused.

"To master Lightning Pace, there are only three stages," he continued, raising three fingers.

"First — conditioning your body.

Second — conditioning your senses.

Third — and the simplest — putting the technique to the test."

He paused, letting them absorb it.

"The more you push your limits during the test, the faster and sharper you become. This isn't about learning a set of movements; this is about conditioning yourself so that you can move like lightning, fast and unpredictable."

He then walked toward the far right corner of the classroom and, with a stick, drew a line.

"This is the finish line."

Then he walked to the opposite side and drew another mark.

"And this… is your starting point."

He crouched slightly as if about to sprint.

"The distance is roughly 20 meters. I need someone to time how long it takes me to cross it. Any volunteers?"

"Sir, me!" Mia shot her hand up excitedly and quickly produced a sleek, magical stopwatch. "I'm ready, sir!"

"Good." The instructor took his stance.

"Then here I go."

WHOOSH!

Like a gust of wind, he launched forward, blurring past them.

Mia had clicked the timer the moment he had moved, and pressed it again the instant his foot touched the line.

"1.15 seconds, sir!"

The instructor nodded. "Good. Now it's your turn. One by one, you will all run, and I will record your times. Everyone, give it your best. Now, take your positions at the starting line."

The students immediately lined up as instructed.

Billy went first.

"Ready… Go!" The instructor's voice rang out.

Whoosh!

Billy shot forward with all his strength.

"1.85 seconds," the instructor announced.

Then came the others....

Paul — 1.89 seconds

Mia — 1.81 seconds

Derek — 1.39 seconds

At Derek's result, the instructor's brows lifted, visibly impressed.

And at the last.....

Harold — 1.95 seconds

The instructor silently recorded every result.

"Now," he said, "I'll show you what you actually need to achieve."

From his pocket, he pulled out three small bells.

One he tied around his wrist. The other two he fastened securely to his ankles.

The students exchanged puzzled looks.

He shook his body lightly and walked around a little.

Jingle! Jingle! The bells chimed with clear, sharp sounds.

"You hear that?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," the five responded.

"Mia. Time me again."

"Yes, sir," she replied, gripping the stopwatch.

The instructor returned to the starting line, bells tinkling with each step.

Then he crouched.

And...

WHOOSH!

He exploded forward once more.

Mia clicked the watch.

"1.10 seconds, sir! Even faster than befo.....!"

She stopped. Her smile froze.

Slowly… her eyes widened.

So did everyone else's.

Because...

Even though he had run faster than before…

Even though the bells were tied to his body…

Not a single bell had rung once. Not even once.

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