The Psychopathic Beast Emperor-Chapter 118: Gabi, the Black Sheep in the Sect

"Go again! If you want to reach the same level as that kid, then you have to first achieve the state of mind for that!"

The roar of Elder Baset shook the training grounds.

The tall, dark-skinned elder stood with his arms folded across his broad chest, long black hair tied behind him, deep yellow eyes sharp as a hunting beast’s. The curved claws at the ends of his fingers tapped slowly against his biceps, a clear warning that his patience was already thin.

Before him, in the center of a sunken stone arena, stood a green-haired youth, or rather, barely stood.

Gabi’s chest rose and fell violently. Sweat drenched his lean body, tracing over the pale scales on his hands, shoulders, and the sides of his face. He wore only a pair of dark training shorts, his feet bare against the scorching stone floor. Beside his ankle, his thick lizard tail twitched weakly, dragging across the dust.

He was a Tier 1, Circle of Spirit.

And right now, he looked like he had already died three times and been dragged back out of spite. The training arena around him was brutal in its simplicity.

There were no fancy arrays, no spirit formations, no pills, and no weapons. Just stone, heat, and Baset. That alone was enough to make disciples cry.

Around the circular arena were massive stone poles, each one the width of three men, driven deep into the ground. Thick iron chains hung from some of them. Other corners held giant slabs of stone, weighted logs, and rows of battered metal dummies that had clearly survived years of merciless abuse.

At the far side of the arena, claw marks scored the walls in long deep lines. Most of them belonged to Baset. A few of the smaller, more desperate ones belonged to Gabi.

"Stand straight," Baset barked.

Gabi forced his shaking legs to lock. His knees almost buckled anyway. Baset’s yellow eyes narrowed.

"You’re trembling."

"I know," Gabi rasped.

"And why are you trembling?"

"Because... I’m tired."

Baset vanished from where he stood and appeared directly in front of him.

Gabi barely had time to widen his eyes before Baset’s hand slammed into his chest.

BAM!

The strike wasn’t even a real attack, but it sent Gabi skidding backward across the stone floor, dust spraying around his heels. He managed to stop himself only by digging his clawed feet into the ground.

Baset didn’t move from where he stood.

"If your body announces its weakness to the world, the world will answer with violence," the elder said coldly. "Again."

Gabi gritted his teeth and lunged forward. He didn’t activate beast energy nor use a technique.

This training had forbidden all of it. It was only flesh, will, and instinct. He rushed in low, trying to close distance before Baset could punish him again. His scaled hand shot out toward the elder’s ribs, aiming for a fast body blow.

Baset caught his wrist without effort.

"Slow."

He twisted.

Gabi gasped as pain ripped up his arm, then Baset drove a knee into his stomach.

WHUMP.

The air left Gabi’s lungs in one violent burst. Before he could fall, Baset released his wrist and slapped him across the face hard enough to spin him around.

"Again."

Gabi staggered, nearly dropped, then forced himself upright. His eyes burned, his throat tasted like blood, he turned and attacked again.

This time he came in with a feint, his body dipping left before suddenly driving right. His tail snapped across the stone to throw dust into Baset’s eyes while he rushed the elder’s blind side.

It was a decent move, for someone half-dead.

Baset stepped through the dust without blinking and drove two fingers into Gabi’s shoulder.

The boy cried out as the limb went numb instantly. Then Baset kicked the back of his knee. Gabi crashed to the floor.

"Again."

The word hit harder than the blow. Gabi panted against the ground, fingers clawing at the stone. Every muscle in his body screamed: they had already trained since dawn. He had run with boulders chained to his waist until the skin at his hips had torn.

He had climbed the outer wall of the arena using only his fingers and toes while Baset struck the stone beside him to keep him from settling into a rhythm.

He had held a horse stance with two weighted logs across his shoulders until both legs had gone numb.

He had been made to crawl the length of the arena while Baset poured heated sand across his back, telling him that pain was just another environment to adapt to.

And after all that, this old monster still wanted more.

Gabi pushed himself to his feet. His legs shook so badly it looked like they might break. Baset watched him in silence.

That silence was worse than yelling. Gabi inhaled hard through his nose. Then he charged again. This time there was no trick, nor feint.

He threw himself at Baset with raw stubbornness, fists flying, elbows sharp, knees driving, tail lashing. His style had lost refinement. It was ugly now. Brutal. The kind of fighting that came after the body had nothing left and the soul had to bite down and keep moving anyway.

Baset blocked everything, with minimal motion. Every failed strike from Gabi was met with punishment. Everything painful, everything humiliating, and everything meant to strip away weakness.

"Your mind breaks before your body does," Baset said, parrying a punch and driving his elbow into Gabi’s back. "That is why you are still small."

Gabi stumbled forward and nearly fell. He spun around with a roar and attacked again. Baset sidestepped him.

"Your fear of pain is louder than your intent."

Gabi’s tail whipped out.

Baset caught it. Gabi’s eyes widened. The elder yanked him off his feet and threw him across the arena.

THOOM!

He hit the ground and rolled twice before smashing into one of the stone poles. Cracks spread from the impact point.

Gabi slid down the pillar and coughed hard, blood spotting the floor beneath him.

For a few seconds he didn’t move. Baset began walking toward him, slowly, like death with all the time in the world.

"If you stay down," Baset said, "then stay down forever. Do not insult training by pretending."

Gabi’s fingers twitched, then they clenched. He pressed one hand to the pillar and tried to rise.

His arm gave out and he dropped to one knee. Baset stopped a few paces away and looked down at him.

"You hate this, don’t you?"

Gabi said nothing.

Baset’s eyes narrowed.

"Answer."

"...Yes," Gabi forced out.

"Good," Baset said. "Then hate properly."

Gabi looked up. Baset crouched slightly so their eyes met.

"Do not hate me. Do not hate the training. Hate the version of yourself that stops here."

The words sank into him like hooks. Baset rose and stepped back.

"Up."

Gabi trembled, then he rose, slowly and shakily.

Baset nodded once.

"Now we begin the real training."

Gabi’s eyes twitched in disbelief.

"We’ve been training since sunrise," he rasped.

"And you’ve only just stopped relying on comfort," Baset replied. "Good. That means you are finally present."

He pointed to the far end of the arena.

Ten stone dummies stood there in a line. They were shaped like rough humanoids, each one taller and broader than Gabi, their surfaces scarred by endless impacts.

"You will break all ten."

Gabi stared.

"With what?" he asked hoarsely. "My hands are barely working."

Baset’s expression didn’t change.

"Then use what remains."

Gabi looked at the dummies, then at his bleeding knuckles, then back at Baset. The elder’s gaze made it very clear that refusal did not exist.

So Gabi turned and ran. His first punch hit the dummy’s midsection with a dull crack. Pain exploded through his hand. The dummy didn’t move. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Gabi snarled and struck again, and again, and again. His fists grew bloodier, followed by his whole body. He rammed into the first dummy with everything he had left.

Crack.

A small fracture appeared and Gabi’s eyes sharpened. He hit it again.

CRACK.

At last the first dummy broke apart at the waist and toppled over. Gabi barely had time to breathe before Baset’s voice thundered behind him.

"Nine."

Gabi lurched toward the second.

By the third dummy, his fists had split open badly enough that blood and sweat made the stone slick.

By the fourth, two claws on his right hand had cracked. By the fifth, his right leg was dragging. By the sixth, his vision had started blurring around the edges.

Baset gave him no encouragement and no comfort, only numbers.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

Each one felt like a curse. When Gabi reached the eighth dummy, he slammed into it and bounced off. His body finally refused. He dropped to both knees.

His head hung low. His whole body shook in ugly, violent spasms. He tried to rise, but he couldn’t.

Baset walked closer.

The arena was silent except for Gabi’s ragged breathing.

"You’re done?" Baset asked.

Gabi didn’t answer.

"Look at me."

Slowly, Gabi lifted his head.

His face was filthy, scaled cheeks streaked with sweat and dust, lips bloodied, green hair hanging over half-lidded eyes.

Baset stared at him.

"Tier 1, Circle of Spirit. No power. No bloodline skill. No technique. Good."

Gabi blinked, confused.

Baset pointed at the remaining dummies.

"Now imagine your enemy does not care."

That lit something ugly inside the boy. His fingers dug into the ground. Baset’s voice dropped lower, harder.

"Imagine the person you want to catch up to is still moving while you are here on your knees."

Gabi’s breathing hitched.

"Imagine he is getting stronger this very second."

The boy’s tail twitched.

"Imagine that by tomorrow, the gap is worse."

Something flashed across Gabi’s eyes.

Then Baset delivered the final strike.

"Stay there, and you will spend your whole life admiring the backs of better men."

Gabi’s pupils narrowed. A guttural sound escaped his throat. He dragged himself upward like a beast climbing out of a grave.

Then he attacked the eighth dummy.

His fist hit, then his elbow, then his forehead, and then his shoulder. He no longer cared about form. He battered it with raw refusal until the stone cracked and collapsed.

"Nine," Baset said.

Gabi staggered to the next one. His legs moved like they belonged to someone else. His right eye had begun swelling. One arm barely lifted. But he still went. By the time the ninth dummy shattered, blood had run down both of his forearms.

He swayed on the spot, half-conscious. Only one remained. The last dummy stood at the end of the arena, silent and waiting.

Gabi looked at it, then took one step then another, and another. Each one looked impossible. When he reached it, he drew back his arm and punched.

The dummy didn’t crack. He hit it again... there was still nothing.

His fist had become a ruin of flesh and fractured claw. Still he struck.

At some point the punches turned into hammering, both hands, then elbows, then body slams.

At some point he started growling between breaths. At some point the growl became a roar. And with that final roar, he drove his whole body into the dummy one last time.

KRAAAK!

The stone split down the center. The upper half slid off and crashed to the ground. Gabi stood there for exactly one second after that. Then his body gave out. He fell face-first into the dust.

Baset walked toward him and stopped beside the collapsed boy. Gabi was barely conscious. His fingers still twitched, as if trying to rise again even now. Baset looked down at him for a long moment.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Good."

One word.

That was all, but to Gabi, it sounded heavier than the whole day’s beating.

Baset crouched and grabbed a handful of the boy’s green hair, lifting his face just enough for him to hear clearly.

"You are weak," the elder said flatly. "But today you were not soft."

Gabi’s swollen eyes trembled.

Baset released him.

"That is the first step."

He stood and turned away.

"Rest for one hour."

Gabi’s exhausted mind barely processed the mercy.

Then Baset added, without looking back...

"After that, we begin endurance."

Gabi’s eye widened in horror.

Baset’s deep voice rolled across the ruined arena like thunder.

"If you vomit, do it while running."

And just like that, the training session was not over. It had only carved its first lesson into his bones.