Shen Mo's philosophy on "Destiny Items" was simple: he provided the foundation, the seed of a future, but the user had to provide the water and the sunlight. For a man like Might Guy, a shortcut to godhood would have been an insult. He didn't want a "win" button; he wanted a "work harder" button.
And the Martial Emperor Series was designed to give him exactly that.
"Do the limited jars... do they contain even more passionate ways to sweat?" Guy asked, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity that made even the seasoned Jōnin step back.
"The profession you've chosen is unique," Shen Mo explained, his voice echoing with a slight, otherworldly reverb. "It doesn't ask for your bloodline or your genius. It only asks for your will. But be warned: the power you gain is directly proportional to the agony you can endure. The training methods in these jars... they aren't for the faint of heart."
"Agony is just the seasoning of youth!" Guy roared, giving a thumbs-up that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.
Tsunade crossed her arms, watching the exchange. "Just buy them, Guy. The village treasury, the Hyuga's 'contribution,' and your own savings are all on the line here. Make it count."
Guy didn't hesitate. He pulled every last scrap of currency he had, even digging into a hidden pocket in his green jumpsuit for a few extra coins to round out the total. He bought ten of the bronze-heavy Limited Jars.
The training ground fell into a hush. Everyone—from the Hokage to the young Neji watching from the shadows—wanted to see what "Special Edition" fate looked like.
The Weight of Existence
Guy smashed the first jar.
Instead of a weapon or a glowing orb, a stack of thick, yellow parchment talismans fluttered into his hand. They were covered in intricate, pulsing ink that seemed to hum with a low frequency.
"Tags?" Kakashi muttered, leaning in. "Are those sealing tags? Or maybe some kind of explosive?"
"Better," Shen Mo said, his eyes tracing the ink. "Those are Gravity Talismans. Most weights only pull on your muscles and skin. These? These reach into your very cells. They pull on your bones, your blood, and most importantly, your internal organs."
He looked at Guy with a challenge in his eyes. "A single talisman increases the gravitational pull on your body by exactly 1.0x. They last for twenty-four hours and they are stackable. But once you peel them off, the magic dissipates. They become waste paper."
Guy's eyes turned into stars. He took a talisman and slapped it onto his chest.
Slap!
His knees buckled for a micro-second before he locked them. His eyes widened. He didn't feel "heavy" in the way a backpack feels heavy. He felt as if his very blood had turned to liquid lead. His heart had to beat twice as hard just to move the fluid through his veins.
"This... this is amazing!" Guy gasped.
Slap! He added a second one. 2.0x gravity.
Slap! A third. 3.0x.
By the time he slapped the fourth talisman onto his shoulder, the change was visible. The grass beneath his feet didn't sink—the talismans were a metaphysical weight that only affected the wearer—but Guy himself was trembling. His breathing was heavy, labored, like a man trying to run a marathon while someone sat on his chest.
"Whew... whew... as expected... of the Merchant!" Guy managed to choke out. His face was turning a deep shade of crimson. "My heart... is getting a... world-class... workout!"
"Guy, don't be a fool," Hiruzen cautioned, his brow furrowed. "Training is about progression, not suicide. Take a couple off."
Guy's hand moved toward the tags, then stopped as he remembered Shen Mo's warning. Each of these jars cost five million ryo. A stack of fifty tags meant each piece of paper was worth a staggering 100,000 ryo.
"Take them off?" Guy looked at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle, his voice a strained wheeze. "And waste... the village's... investment? Never! This is... only four times... my own weight! If I can't... handle this... how can I call myself... a man of youth! Whew... whew!"
The sight was objectively hilarious—a man in green spandex vibrating with effort just to stand still—but nobody laughed. They could feel the sheer, stubborn pressure of his will.
The Grind Begins
Guy continued to open the jars, though his movements were now slow and deliberate, as if he were moving through thick molasses.
The second jar yielded a glowing blue orb: [The Flow of the Shattered Mountain]. It was a set of fist techniques that emphasized internal energy circulation. Guy absorbed the knowledge and his eyes glazed over for a second. He could see the forms in his mind—complex, brutal movements that required every muscle to fire in perfect unison.
"Good stuff," Guy whispered, though the effort of speaking made him stumble. "Can't... do it now... though. Might... snap a rib."
The third, fourth, and fifth jars yielded more "supplies": another hundred Gravity Talismans, a bottle of [Heavenly Bone-Knitting Marrow] to repair micro-fractures, and a weighted training suit that looked like thin silk but weighed more than a suit of iron armor.
By the ninth jar, Guy was drenched in sweat. His green suit was three shades darker from the moisture, and he was vibrating like a tuning fork under the 4.0x gravity. But as he reached for the penultimate jar, the air in the training ground suddenly cooled.
CRACK.
As the ceramic shattered, a thick, rolling mist of brilliant sapphire blue surged out. It didn't dissipate; it coiled around Guy's feet like a living thing.
"Oh?" Shen Mo raised an eyebrow, a genuine look of surprise on his face. "Well, look at that. Luck is a fickle mistress, but she seems to have a crush on you today, Guy."
The Jōnin gasped. They knew that color. Blue.
A Rare-grade item.
In the Tier 3 prize pool, Shen Mo had been slightly more generous than in Tier 2. He had bumped the "Grand Prize" probability from a measly 0.5% to a solid 1%. Even so, pulling a Rare item in a ten-pull was the equivalent of hitting a jackpot.