A few weeks went by.
That mostly meant Tang Wulin got beaten up a lot and fell a lot.
But not as much as before.
The training field was quieter in the afternoons. Most kids had gone home, leaving behind scuffed dirt, broken branches, and one very tired bucket stuck in a tree.
Gasping for air Tang wulin looked at the Perso- No, Demon Across from him seemingly unfazed and not even tired.
"…Hey," he said slowly. "Xinglan?"
"What."
"…Why are you so good at fighting?"
She stopped.
Turned.
Looked at him.
It wasn't a glare.It wasn't annoyance.
It was the look of someone being asked why water was wet.
"…I'm from a prominent soul master family," she said flatly. "We have a sword spirit."
Wulin blinked.
She continued, completely serious.
"I've been training since I could walk."
"Oh."
"And my grandfather said if I couldn't knock someone down by age six, I wasn't allowed dessert."
Wulin stared.
"…That's horrifying."
"It worked."
"That explains so much."
She tilted her head slightly.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know!" Wulin waved his arms. "Maybe a secret manual? Or mysterious mountains? Or—"
She flicked his forehead.
"Ow!"
"No shortcuts," she said. "Train."
Wulin rubbed his forehead, then sighed.
"…That's unfair."
"Yes."
"…Can I borrow your grandfather?"
"No."
"Just for the dessert motivation?"
"No."
"Cruel."
She turned back into her stance, fists raised.
"Again."
Wulin swallowed, raised his hands, and squared his feet.
"…You know," he muttered, "when I get strong, I'm blaming you."
Xinglan's lips twitched.
"Good."
.
The next day.
Combat class was supposed to be controlled.
That was what the teacher said, at least.
"Light sparring only!" Instructor Lin shouted. "No biting! No tackling! And absolutely no—"
"BUCKET STYLE!" someone yelled.
Everyone turned.
The Iron Bucket boy stood proudly in the middle of the field, bucket already on his head like a helmet. His name was Wang Ke, but nobody called him that anymore.
Iron Bucket.Rank 0 soul power.
He pointed at his opponent — a skinny boy with a Rank 3 Stone Fist spirit.
"PREPARE YOURSELF!" Bucket Boy declared.
The other boy swallowed. "Why are you yelling?"
"INTIMIDATION!"
Instructor Lin pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just… start."
The whistle blew.
Stone Fist boy raised his glowing hand cautiously.
Bucket Boy charged.
Straight. Forward. No fear.
"BUCKET RUSH!!"
Stone Fist boy panicked and swung.
CLANG.
His fist slammed into the bucket.
Hard.
Very hard.
"OW—! MY HAND!"
He yelped, shaking his arm.
Bucket Boy didn't stop.
He lowered his head and kept running.
WHAM.
Stone Fist boy flew backward and landed flat on his back, staring at the sky.
Silence.
Bucket Boy stood over him, bucket still on his head, chest puffed out.
"I WIN!"
The field exploded into noise.
"How is this possible?!"
"He just ran him over!"
"Can you do that?!"
Instructor Lin stared.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then sighed.
"…The rules didn't say you couldn't," she admitted.
Bucket Boy pumped his fist. "ART OF VIOLENCE!"
Wulin watched with his mouth hanging open, felt his heart beat faster.
"…He won," Wulin whispered.
Xinglan crossed her arms.
"…Yes."
"But he has zero soul power."
"Yes."
"He can't even cultivate."
"Yes."
"…Then how did he win?"
Xinglan watched Wang Ke celebrate, bucket still on his head.
"…violence...," she said.
Wulin swallowed.
The lesson hit harder than any punch.
Wang Ke lifted his bucket triumphantly.
"REMATCH ANYONE!"
Instructor Lin rubbed her temples.
"I need a raise."
.
Wulin couldn't stop staring at Wang Ke.
The bucket was still on his head.
He was still celebrating.
He had still won.
"…Xinglan," Wulin whispered.
"What."
"I think I figured it out."
Xinglan did not look convinced.
"He didn't use soul power," Wulin continued excitedly. "He just ran!"
"Yes."
"So if I just… do that…"
She turned slowly.
"…No."
Wulin was already backing up.
He pointed at another kid across the field — a boy practicing with a glowing wooden spear.
"I'LL TRY IT!"
"Don't—"
Too late.
Wulin lowered his head.
He did not have a bucket.
He did not have armor.
He did not have a plan.
He charged.
"SEAWEED RUSH!!"
The other kid turned.
Confused.
Then instinct kicked in.
The spear smacked Wulin square in the chest.
WHUMP.
Wulin flew backward and landed flat on his back.
The world went quiet.
"…Ow," he said weakly.
Xinglan walked over and stared down at him.
"You're not a bucket."
"I felt bucket-like."
"No."
Instructor Lin rushed over. "Are you hurt?!"
Wulin raised a shaky thumbs-up.
"I think my soul left my body for a second."
The other kid looked panicked. "I'm sorry! He just ran at me!"
Xinglan crossed her arms.
"He does that."
Wulin groaned and rolled onto his side.
"…So what did I do wrong?"
Xinglan crouched and poked his forehead.
"Everything."
"That's not helpful."
"You didn't have protection."
"Buckets are protection?"
"Yes."
"I don't have one."
"Exactly."
He stared at the sky.
"…Can I borrow his?"
"No."
"…What if I use a pot?"
"No."
"…A helmet?"
"No."
"…A bowl?"
"No."
Wulin sighed.
"So Bucket Style only works if you're… him."
"Yes."
"…That's unfair."
Xinglan stood up.
"Train more," she said.
Wulin sat up slowly, rubbing his chest.
"…Okay."
He looked over at Wang Ke, who was now lecturing two other kids about "momentum."
Wulin clenched his fists.
"…I'll make my own style."
Xinglan paused.
"…Good."
.
Wang Ke watched the grass boy fly.
He blinked.
Once.
Then tilted his bucket-covered head.
"…Huh."
That wasn't right.
He shuffled closer, peering at Tang Wulin on the ground.
The grass boy didn't have a bucket.
He didn't even crouch properly.
He just… ran.
That wasn't Bucket Style.
Bucket Style needed a bucket.
And courage.
And momentum.
Mostly the bucket.
Wang Ke crossed his arms, metal clanking softly.
"…You're doing it wrong," he muttered, even though nobody asked.
The grass boy groaned.
Wang Ke nodded to himself.
Yeah.
Definitely wrong.
He puffed out his chest a little.
Bucket Style wasn't something you copied.
It was something you were.
Satisfied, Wang Ke turned back to his audience.
"REMATCH ANYONE?!"