"Longevity Technique—it's the foundation upon which your journey into the Postnatal Realm begins."
Instructor Hendrikson's voice echoed across the quiet martial arts hall. His tone was steady, but carried the weight of authority, making every student listen carefully.
"This technique is called 'foundational' because it cleanses the imperfections within your body. No one is born with a body perfectly suited for martial cultivation. Talent exists—low, medium, high, top-tier, and even supreme—but without proper alignment or with hidden defects, that talent is wasted."
He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.
"The Longevity Technique repairs the body, heals internal flaws, and aligns your structure so that you can make full use of your potential. It doesn't just strengthen you—it shortens the time required for advancement and stabilizes your future cultivation."
Some students exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from curiosity to determination.
Hendrikson continued, "I will now demonstrate the thirty-two stances and their corresponding breathing techniques. Each stance flows into the next like a river, and the breathing must adapt accordingly—sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, sometimes restrained."
As the class grew silent in anticipation, Hendrikson stepped forward. The energy in the room shifted as he began demonstrating the movements—graceful yet powerful. Every stance spoke of discipline, every breath synchronized with the rhythm of his form.
Reo and the other students carefully observed Hendrikson's movements and breathing patterns, doing their best to imitate them.
The Longevity Technique, composed of thirty-two stances and thirty-two breathing rhythms, was the most basic foundational method taught to all students. There were, of course, more advanced techniques—but due to their complexity, they weren't made available to beginners.
This technique was an ancient human method, discovered within one of the ruins that surfaced after spiritual energy reawakened on Earth. As more of these ancient ruins emerged, countless beings ventured deep inside in search of opportunities. Among all the discoveries, the most valuable was the legendary Rebirth Technique.
The Longevity Technique was only a small part of the complete Rebirth Technique. When it was first discovered by the Sword Emperor, he made it public, hoping to elevate humanity's strength. The Rebirth Technique didn't just restore the body—it could even transform someone with low innate talent into a supreme-level genius.
But the results were problematic. The technique was incredibly difficult to learn and required immense resources. Over time, human powerhouses began restricting access to it—some out of greed, others to ensure their clans remained at the top.
As Reo completed a full cycle of the Longevity Technique, he felt a faint stream of spiritual energy flowing through his veins, attempting to repair micro and internal injuries. But the effect was minimal.
Years of torture and harsh training in the cult had left deep damage in his body. This basic technique wasn't enough.
"It seems I need to find the complete Rebirth Technique... as soon as possible," Reo thought, clenching his fists silently.
After three hours of intense guidance and demonstration from Instructor Hendrikson, most of the students finally began to grasp the Longevity Technique. One by one, they managed to perform all thirty-two stances and their corresponding breathing patterns. There were still some small mistakes here and there, but overall, the students had made commendable progress.
It was understandable—after all, Class 9C was known as the class with the lowest talent in the entire academy.
Hendrikson finally paused the training and announced a short Q&A session. A collective sigh of relief echoed across the hall. After hours of practice, the students were completely exhausted. Many were panting heavily, drenched in sweat.
Among them, only Reo stood still—calm and composed, without a single bead of sweat or sign of fatigue. Hendrikson silently took note of him.
Some students quickly crowded around the teacher, eager to ask questions and clarify doubts. Meanwhile, Fatty Wang lay flat on the floor, wheezing dramatically.
"Man… I'm gonna die! Who the hell practices for three hours straight?"
"Ahhh… my body is breaking…"
"I'm dying…"
"I just hope there are fairies in the afterlife to soothe my pain."
Watching his antics, even Reo—usually stoic—showed a twitch in his expression. With a dark line on his forehead, he kicked Wang Li.
"Stop acting. The class isn't over yet."
The moment Reo's foot connected, Wang Li shot up faster than a startled rabbit.
"Don't! I'm up! I'm up!" Wang Li shouted.
"Seriously, you need anger management, man. One of these days, someone's going to snap back at you," he muttered, dusting himself off.
Reo sighed, clearly fed up. "If you have questions, now's the time to ask. Don't regret it later."
"Yes, sir!" Wang Li said quickly and bolted toward the instructor like a soldier on a mission.
Reo shook his head, a faint trace of amusement hidden in his eyes.
Half an hour later, after the Q&A ended, Hendrikson dismissed the class, and the students began to disperse one by one.
After the martial arts training, all the students headed to the locker rooms. Each locker room—both boys' and girls'—had an attached shower area where students could freshen up and change clothes.
The boys casually stripped off their gym shirts, revealing bare upper bodies, and wrapped towels around their waists before walking toward the showers. Reo, however, did things differently. He silently grabbed his change of clothes and towel, still fully dressed in his gym uniform, and headed to the shower without undressing. He didn't want anyone to see the scars that crisscrossed his body.
As cold water poured from the showerhead and hit his skin, he closed his eyes, letting the chill wash over him. The icy sting numbed his body, but also brought a strange sense of peace.
While he stood under the water, he overheard the conversation of a few other boys.
"Hey, have you heard about the ghost sightings in East Verge?"
"East Verge? You mean the eastern slums of Cumbum town—the area filled with beggars and the lower class?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"So what about these ghost sightings?"
"I don't know the full details. My uncle's in the police force. He told me there have been numerous complaints from people there—claims of ghost sightings."
"Are you sure they're not just doing it for attention again? Didn't they pull something like this last time, faking ghost stories to get the mayor's attention and demand better living conditions?"
"My uncle thinks the same. But since the complaints involve the supernatural, This case could be linked to the Nether Cult — they're the only group capable of using ghosts to do their bidding. The police can't take any chances. The higher-ups are pressuring them—either prove it's a real haunting or uncover whoever's behind it."
"Damn, sounds like a mess."
At the far end of the row, Roy stood silently against the tiled wall, water streaming down his face. But the moment he heard the word "ghost," his eyes sharpened. A deep rage flickered within them.
"Ghosts… Nether cult?"
Clenching his fists, he muttered under his breath, "I need to investigate this."
Without another word, he quickly finished his shower, changed clothes, and walked out of the locker room with silent determination in his steps.
As Reo exited the locker room, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Turning slightly, he saw Fatty Wang running toward him, flailing his arms.
"Wait up, Reo!" Wang called, panting as he caught up.
Stopping beside him, Wang gasped for breath and said, "Man… where are you running off to? Can't you wait for your best bud?"
Reo looked at him blankly. "What happened?"
"That's your response? 'What happened?'" Wang frowned dramatically. "School's over—why don't we hit the game zone? Blow off some steam?"
Reo shook his head. "No. I've got something to do."
Wang groaned. "Come on, dude! I'm literally dying of boredom here."
"Nope."
"Ugh, fine…" Wang sighed in defeat. After knowing Reo for half a year, he had gotten used to this response.
"But seriously, you really need to get out more, bro. So… where are you going?"
"Home."
Wang's eyes lit up. "Awesome! Let me tag along."
"Nope."
"But—"
"Nope."
Wang threw up his hands. "Fine, fine."
With that brief exchange over, the two split ways—Wang heading off in one direction, and Reo in another, vanishing into the shadows of the late afternoon.
Reo boarded the bus and took a seat near the back. As the vehicle rumbled through the streets, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through news articles about the recent ghost sightings in East Verge.
Most of the headlines dismissed the events as hoaxes. "Ghost Panic Sparked by Beggars Again?", "Authorities Suspect Staged Sightings in East Verge," and other similar titles filled his screen. The general consensus was that the reports were exaggerated or fabricated—an attempt by the local poor to stir attention and demand better living conditions.
Not a single article mentioned any verified supernatural activity.
Reo locked his screen with a quiet sigh. As expected, nothing useful.
Then, he reopened the phone, but this time, he tapped on an inconspicuous icon hidden in a corner. The moment he opened the security app, the display flickered, and the screen blacked out completely.
He didn't panic—this was normal.
A few seconds later, a spinning loading icon appeared in the center, and strange alphanumeric codes began flashing below it in rapid succession.
This app wasn't ordinary. It was a shell program that created a secondary operating system—one invisible to most surveillance systems. This secret OS came with military-grade anti-hacking protocols, encrypted satellite feeds, impenetrable firewalls, and counter-surveillance measures.
Once the boot-up completed, the phone restarted as if nothing had happened.
Reo navigated to a hidden chat app and sent a single encrypted message:
"Find all detailed information regarding ghost sightings in East Verge."
Within seconds, a reply came through.
"Yes, Captain."
"You have One Hour. I want everything—complete analysis, in and out."
"Understood, Captain."
Reo leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly as the bus rolled on.