Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom - Chapter 341

Note: Thank You @geana_granger @Mainaka @JonathanMM5 @limpo and “@IcewaterKat” for the Golden tickets.

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As Das completed his tenth round of intense cardio, a noticeable transformation had taken place. His body had regained its form, his muscles now more defined and formidable than before. With every beat of his heart, he could feel the surging energy coursing through his veins, a revitalising force that seemed to reinvigorate every fibre of his being.

With each breath, he could sense the power within him, a hunger for more challenges and a desire to push his limits further. The experience had not only restored his physical strength, but had also ignited an insatiable fire, urging him to reach new heights of potential.

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As Das stood there, catching his breath and feeling the thrum of energy beneath his skin, he knew that he was no longer the same person who had started the training that morning. The old man’s guidance, the blood serum’s effects, and his own unyielding will had converged to shape a revitalised version of himself.

After another ten minutes of intense exertion, the one-eyed old man signaled for Das to halt. With a nod of approval, he motioned towards the next stage of the training area. There, a row of weapons was neatly arranged in a single line.

What caught Das’s attention was the surprising uniformity among these weapons – they were all of the same type: maces. The old man had deliberately chosen maces for this first day of training.

“Pick up the heaviest mace you can handle.” The one-eyed old man declared in a stern tone.

The mace, a simple yet effective weapon, consisted of a heavy, large round head like a pumpkin attached to a sturdy handle. (You can refer to lord Bheema’s weapon). Its design allowed for powerful strikes that could crush armour and bones alike.

As Das approached the row of maces, he felt a mixture of curiosity and determination. Each mace seemed to emanate a sense of purpose, ready to be wielded by someone who understood its potential.

The old man’s choice was not arbitrary; it was a deliberate test of Das’s newfound strength and agility. Maces required a combination of brute force, precise control to wield and the weight of the weapon required proper balance and coordination.

With a determined expression, he reached out and chose a mace that resonated with him. Gripping the handle, he could feel the weight and power it held, ready to be unleashed in his skilled hands.

“First of all, you need to adapt to the weight of the weapon. Use your strength and smash that rock statue. Make sure that there is no gravel remaining.” The old man said while pointing his finger at the hard stone statue.

The statue is of a stout person with large stomach. With one hand on head on other on stomach, it looked like a funny statue. Without thinking much Das moved forward and aimed his mace at statue head.

“Bummmm…”

A loud noise filled the surroundings. But there is no single scratch on the statue. What is it made? Of Das thought for second after seeing the sturdy rock before him.

However, Das wasn’t one to back down. Over the next ten minutes, he launched a relentless series of attacks against the stone statue’s head, each strike accompanied by a resounding impact. Yet, even after another ten minutes of intense assault, the statue remained standing, showing little sign of significant damage.

Frustration and determination mingled in Das’s mind. He refused to accept defeat. He continued his assault, pushing himself to the limit. The mace swung with precision, its spikes striking the statue’s head repeatedly. Sweat coated his brow, and his muscles screamed with exertion, but he pressed on.

Minutes turned into moments, and the sun arced across the sky, casting shifting shadows over the training grounds. Finally, after a few more minutes of unrelenting effort, something clicked within Das. His strikes became more controlled, more focused. He realised his mistake – he had been using the mace as if it were a hammer, relying solely on brute force to deliver his blows.

With this realisation, he adjusted his technique. The mace, he understood, was a weapon that demanded finesse and strategy. It required him to leverage its weight and balance, to capitalise on its design.

As he began to wield the mace with purpose, the strikes became more calculated, more effective. Each blow now targeted specific weak points on the statue’s head, exploiting its vulnerabilities.

The change in approach was evident. The statue’s head, once stubbornly resistant, began to show cracks and signs of impending defeat. Das’s perseverance and adaptability had turned the tide. And as he continued to strike with newfound precision, he could sense victory on the horizon.

With a final, well-placed blow, the stone statue’s head shattered into fragments, the pieces scattering across the ground. But his task is not over. Das continued to smash the statue parts piece by piece. After smashing the head, it became easy for him to dismantle the round statue with in next half an hour.

After another half an hour, he successfully powdered big stones, putting a full stop to the task assigned. Das stepped back, panting heavily, his heart racing from both exhaustion and triumph. He had conquered the challenge, not through blind force, but through understanding and adjusting his approach.

Without granting Das much time to catch his breath, the one-eyed old man transitioned seamlessly into the next phase of training. He focused on teaching Das the fundamental principles of fighting stances, illustrating how to wield the mace not just for offence, but also for defence. The training session continued with unwavering intensity.

The old man demonstrated each movement with precision, showcasing the fluidity and balance required to maneuver the mace effectively. He explained how a slight shift in posture could mean the difference between success and failure in battle.

He emphasised the importance of anticipation, of reading an opponent’s intentions through their movements and adjusting one’s own stance accordingly.

As the sun traversed the sky, casting warm hues across the training grounds, the one-eyed old man led Das through a series of attack and defence patterns. Each technique had its purpose – to disarm, to deflect, to counter. Das absorbed the instructions eagerly, internalising the intricate details and striving to replicate the old man’s movements.

The mace, once an enigmatic weapon to Das, began to feel like an extension of his own body. With every swing, every parry, he gained a deeper understanding of its dynamics. The hours stretched on, but Das’s determination remained unyielding. He knew that mastering these techniques could mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield.

As evening approached, the one-eyed old man’s training finally culminated. The demonstration of attacking patterns and defensive maneuvers had taken Das on a transformative journey. Exhausted but exhilarated, Das realised that his proficiency with the mace had grown by leaps and bounds in a single day.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the training grounds, the old man allowed Das a moment of respite. Breathing heavily, Das stood amidst the training dummies and the debris of his efforts. He flexed his fingers around the mace’s handle, feeling the weight and power it contained.

“Young master, the food is ready. You did not eat anything from the morning. Please come with me.” Sana requested him in a respectful tone.

Beside her Stella, stood with the baby in hands who is staring at Das. After seeing the bleeding naked body, exhausted face, shaking hands and his grip on the mace, tears swirled on Stella’s eyes. She stood silently with her head down.

“Leave me alone. I will be back after some time.” Das said exhausted tone while staring at the mace in his hands. After seeing the baby in the hands of Stella, his determined to continue his efforts. Ruth who stood a long distance away, turned around after hearing his determined tone.

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Note: Thank you for reading. It is just the first day, that is why it took these many words. We wills peed up the training from tomorrow.

Your’s lovingly,

PeterPan 🙂