The first rays of dawn barely pierced through the thick jungle canopy, but Ha-Joon was already awake. His body ached from the battle with the wolves, his knuckles still raw from conditioning against the trees the previous night. But pain meant nothing. Pain was weakness leaving his body.
He tightened the bloodstained wrappings around his fists, rolled his shoulders, and took a deep breath and muttered: "The real training begins now."
(A/N: Ha-Joon's training focuses on strength, explosive speed and technique, which means his exercises will be high-intensity, using his own body weight, the jungle terrain, and makeshift tools to push himself beyond his limits. And to feel the depth of his mastery over them.)
Ha-Joon stood before a thick, knotted tree—his opponent for the morning. He raised his fists and exhaled: "One thousand strikes, without stopping."
Thud.
His first punch connected, jolting pain up his arm. He barely reacted. Again. And again. The sound of his fists slamming against the bark echoed through the jungle. His knuckles split open, blood smearing across the rough surface, but he didn't stop. He embraced the burn in his arms, the sting in his flesh.
After 500 punches, he switched to kicks. He raised his leg and launched a Kyoukushin low kick, the sheer impact sending a sharp vibration through his shin. He didn't slow down—his shins needed to become iron. Each strike had to be stronger than the last. By the time he reached 500, his muscles trembled, but he merely clenched his fists and whispered: "Not enough"
Dragging himself toward a fallen tree, he crouched down, gripping the thick tree. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them. He hoisted the log overhead and pressed it repeatedly, his shoulders burning as if on fire. Then, without rest, he threw the tree across and sprinted after it, hoisting it again before lunging forward.
Lift. Throw. Sprint. Repeat.
He didn't stop until his arms felt like they might tear apart.
In the blink of an eye, three days had passed since he started training for the strength. So, he decided to blend his techniques and improve his speed for the remaining days.
....
Blending Styles into One
Ha-Joon was already a master of multiple martial arts—Kyoukushin Karate, Taekwondo, and Capoeira—but confinement forced him to refine his transitions. Kyoukushin provided raw power, allowing him to break through defenses with devastating force. Taekwondo gave him speed, his kicks slicing through the air with precision. Capoeira added unpredictability, his body shifting with fluidity, evading attacks with effortless grace.
At first, his techniques clashed. But as he trained relentlessly, the boundaries between styles blurred. He could strike with the bone-breaking power of Kyoukushin, launch into a spinning kick with Taekwondo's speed, and evade counterattacks with Capoeira's flowing movements. No wasted motion. No hesitation. His body became a single, seamless weapon.
He sighed and spoke while flexing his body: "Finally I've integrated, my main martial arts suitable for battle." He eyes faintly glowed I've reached my limit. I need to engage in a intense battle to break the threshold of technique mastery.
After an exhausting day of relentless training, Ha-Joon made his way to his makeshift resting place—a small clearing beneath a large tree, its gnarled roots forming a natural seat. After hanging his sweat clothes. He slowly lit the fire and began to roast the meat.
The scent of roasted meat filled the air as he crouched near the fire pit he had constructed. Earlier, he had hunted a wild hare with nothing but his bare hands, another test of his ever-sharpening reflexes. Now, its flesh sizzled over the flames, the crackling sound mixing with the distant chirping of nocturnal creatures.
He tore into his meal without hesitation, the warmth of the food a rare comfort in the otherwise harsh environment. The meal was simple—roasted meat and wild berries he had foraged earlier—but it was fuel, nothing more. He did not indulge in luxury, nor did he seek satisfaction. He simply finished his meal without cherishing its taste.
As he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and settled to rest. Ha-Joon slowly closed his eyes and deeply fell asleep.
....
Next day,
The first thing Ha-Joon did after rising was hydrate. Water from the nearby stream was always cold and fresh, and he drank deeply to replenish the fluids lost during the night's sweat. His body needed to be ready, and hydration was key to fueling his grueling day of training.
Breakfast was a simple affair. He ate a handful of fruits and roots that he'd foraged in the jungle, high in natural sugars and carbohydrates, giving him the quick energy he'd need. Alongside that, a mix of dried meats he had prepared from past hunts provided the necessary protein to support his muscle recovery. This light but high-energy meal gave him the foundation for the intense day ahead.
After breakfast, Ha-Joon wasted no time. The air was still cool, which would help with his endurance during the intense sprinting session. He dashed towards the jungle without hesitation. He had only one goal in mind—speed, Explosive speed. The kind that could overwhelm an opponent before they even realized what was happening.
Once his legs were sufficiently fatigued from the sprints, Ha-Joon transitioned to agility training. The jungle floor was perfect for this type of drill, with thick underbrush and branches littering the ground. He set up a series of cones—makeshift markers from fallen logs and rocks—and began weaving through them at top speed, mimicking the unpredictable footwork required in battle.
Each time he made a sharp turn, his body naturally sunk lower into a defensive posture, switching between his martial arts styles. From Kyoukushin powerful low stances to the quick, light-footed movements of Capoeira, his body responded instinctively, moving with both precision and speed. The goal was to never break his stride, even as he rapidly changed direction, all while maintaining the control needed to avoid obstacles in the jungle.
His feet seemed to barely touch the ground, his body flowing between changes of direction. Ha-Joon imagined his opponents, always staying two steps ahead in his mind, evading strikes and countering with his own devastating speed.
Ha-Joon then turned his attention to striking. He wasn't just training to be fast; he was training to strike with lightning speed. He set up a makeshift speed bag using ropes and a hollowed-out tree trunk. He began throwing rapid-fire punches, focusing on speed over power. His hands blurred as they hit the bag, keeping a steady rhythm as his mind focused on each blow, ensuring that he wasn't just throwing punches, but responding instinctively.
With the bag swinging back and forth, Ha-Joon moved into a rhythm that mirrored a fight. His reaction time was key—anticipating the movement of the bag, delivering strikes with precision, and adjusting to the timing of each swing. The speed of the bag forced him to react faster, and every punch he threw built his speed and coordination.
He paused, wiped the sweet forming in his forehead and murmured: "let's stop, I should freshen up and get ready to leave jungle tomorrow morning."
....
( Training arc ended in just one chap, as I don't want to take a damn 3, 4 chap. And I'm not particularly interested in writing training so, I had used Ai elements. Don't worry as I'm not gonna rely in Ai to write future chap.
Readers can completely be at ease for future chapter.)