Duchamp had looked inside the golden river, and after owning it, he was very different from before. The skills that were presented in the river, including the three-move stick technique that Dan taught him, the Xingluo step that he had been practicing hard all his own, were now becoming more and more powerful, and those few primary spells were also becoming more and more proficient. The rest of the skills don't change.

Duchamp thought about it again, and he was sure that in the river, there didn't seem to be any mastery of the arts, even the skills of the illusion theory, there were no skills.

Could it be that this is the true level that represents oneself?

As soon as this idea came out, Dushanne was full of cows.

Sure enough, do you have to start all over again at the end of the day?

He almost gave up eating to practice his elementary martial arts. But after a few minutes, I still responded to the call of the stomach, and at the same time thought of a more appropriate way.

At noon the next day, at the actual combat training ground.

"You want me to instruct you in basic martial arts? Is that the case? Styry. Teacher Daju Weima crossed his arms and looked Duchamp up and down earnestly, as if to see a flower in him.

"That's right, I suddenly feel that my foundation is not solid now, and I would like to ask you for advice." Duchamp said stiffly.

"Hehe, Styri, it seems that you have finally realized your weakness and are about to become a true martial artist." Teacher Weima smiled happily.

Duchamp was overjoyed, could it be that Mr. Weimar saw that he was about to break through?

"Warriors must have a tenacious and heroic heart, and those who love to be opportunistic will not be able to become a great weapon in the end. Your basic conditions are good, but your temperament is too jumpy, blindly pursuing those fancy moves, but you are not willing to sink down and feel the power from the basic martial arts, and now you finally have this awareness, very good! Teacher Weima glanced at the rest area and shouted, "Fang, come down." ”

Fang happily jumped down from the rest area and looked at Duchamp with ill will.

"I remember that you once practiced penance in the ashram of Alsidliu, so now it is up to you to pass on the training skills of the dojo to Styri, supervise him every day, remember, only practice the basic form, four hours a day, and continue to do it for three months."

Fang straightened his waist, and couldn't help the smile on his face.

"Please rest assured, I will definitely supervise in place and use the most orthodox dojo training method."

Duchamp was still a little disappointed when he saw that Teacher Weimar did not personally guide him, but assigned Fang Lai.

Fang saw it in his eyes, and immediately decided to double Duchamp's training intensity on the basis of the training in the dojo.

On that little hill where they practiced every day.

Fang Ju stood condescendingly, with a master's demeanor.

"I know that you have a family tradition of stunts and cultivation, and you have also practiced penance alone. But this is completely different from the systematic training in the dojo. The fact that the Yarsidliu was able to become a well-known martial arts school in the empire was inseparable from its rigorous basic training methods. I entered the ashram at the age of 12 and practiced the basic poses there for three whole years. And Weimar only gave you three months, so we have to hurry up. ”

Duchamp suddenly had some bad feelings, and the face in front of him clearly had an expression of "revenge, revenge, resentment, and complaining".

Duchamp squinted and smiled. Sample, at your level, what can you do to my brother!

Fang gushed a big truth, and then ordered the people who stood on the side.

"Learmour, put a weight on Styry. Dietrie, grab the stopwatch and get ready to time. ”

"Hey, wait, aren't you going to teach basic training?" Dushang saw Leermu coming over with two heavy pieces of iron, and hurriedly asked in a loud voice.

"That's right, when you put it on, our basic training will begin." Fang took the weight and personally helped Duchamp tie his hands and feet.

"Now I'm going to teach you the basic alchemy of the Alsidryu. These techniques can be taught publicly. ”

"First momentum: punching. The sun rises in the early morning, it is the beginning of the day, sink your waist and lower your arms, accumulate strength, swing your fists, and count 300. Remember, the power of the fist can be indeterred, and between swings, a person's will and perseverance can be exercised. ”

"The second form: run. Styry, you seem to be good at this, so add a little weight...... The third style, swing the sword ......"

Seeing Fang's increasingly blackened smile, Duchamp felt that there was a big pit waiting for him in front of him.

After Fang's demonstration, Duchamp found that the exercise skills of Alside Flow, which are also very common, are nothing more than daily practice of fists and feet, speed, reflexes, and endurance. However, it is characterized by a strong focus on consistency and consistency in the training process. After Fang led Duchamp to swing his fist in the early morning, he took him to the training ground and asked him to swing his fist at the sandbag, and the recorder next to him could detect the intensity of each punch and judge whether it was qualified or not.

After the first day of training, Fang pointed to the average value on the recorder and told him, "Starting tomorrow, set a number for yourself that is not less than this number, and then train according to the requirements in your heart, and improve a little every day in the future." It's up to you to decide how much you want to improve, but don't give up halfway. In the ashram, if someone can't accomplish the goals they have set, they can't eat and reflect on themselves that day. ”

Duchamp had never experienced such boring training, he felt a little irritable, and with his physical fitness, it was not a piece of cake to deal with such bland training.

A week later.

Teacher Weimar came to check Duchamp's progress again, she stood beside her with her hands crossed, watched Duchamp easily swing three hundred punches, passed the fist, picked up the giant sword, and prepared to swing the sword.

"Wait a minute, I think this is far from your limit!" Mr. Weimar readjusted the numbers on the recorder and raised them by 40%.

Duchamp was taken aback.

"However, teacher, Fang told me that this requires three hundred punches to reach more than this number in order to be qualified."

"Idiot, are you still an apprentice who has just started to practice martial arts, you need to constantly break through your own limits. Today's limit is the foundation of tomorrow, and only by constantly challenging in this way can you truly discover the strength of your body! Teacher Weimar said, and raised the pass line on the recorder up two squares.

"Limit!" Duchamp chewed the word several times and suddenly came to his senses.

All of his skills rely on the automatic balance optimization of a certain system in his body to achieve the most effortless and effective way to make moves, so they will never take a step towards the limit, and after mastering it, they will basically stagnate. Teacher Weima must have seen it clearly, so he put forward such high requirements.

"If it's just a fist, with my ** physique, I should be able to resist it." Duchamp gritted his teeth and insisted.

"Unqualified, please repeat." The electronic sound of machinery kept ringing in my ears.

The time for class has come, and Duchamp's morning exercise is not yet complete.

He was absent from school.

While eating in the cafeteria at noon, Duchamp found that his hands were so swollen that he couldn't even hold a fork.

He barely ate two bites, returned to the dormitory, and lay groggily. A warm current continues to gush out of the body, repairing the meridian tissues that have been damaged by overtraining.

This perfect physique is good! Duchamp praised deeply, fell asleep, and snored.

Li Ermu looked at the side for a long time, but he still couldn't help but pull Fang into the corridor and asked, "Fang, is it really okay to train at such a high intensity?" ”

"No problem, you can see that Steiri can still sleep soundly." Fang patted his chest and reassured, and couldn't help muttering in his heart: "Without such extreme training, who would have thought that Styriet's kid would have almost twice as much strength as mine!" ”