My Water-Loving Coach

The door opened, and a stream of light spilled out, illuminating a small patch of darkness near the entrance.

Su Xuan peeked his head in, when a deep, resonant male voice called out from inside:

“Come in.”

Su Xuan hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the room. There were no desks, no podium. The north and south walls were lined with bookshelves, stuffed to the brim with all kinds of books. At the far end of the room stood a massive mirror, which made the already spacious room feel even larger.

The floor was covered by a large, tawny-brown carpet. Three or four wooden training dummies stood silently inside the room. At the back sat a man in his mid-thirties or early forties, holding a digital tablet in his hands.

“Su Xuan… Senior student at No. 5 High School, seventeen years old this year…”

He glanced up at Su Xuan after reading, then fell silent for a few seconds.

“Gender… male?!”

Su Xuan lowered his head slightly, perhaps a little self-conscious about his appearance. In his mind, a true warrior should exude masculine energy—ripped with muscles and a fierce, hardened look.

But he… was prettier than most girls. Would he be looked down upon for it?

“You must be Su Xuan, right? Sit down.”

The man pointed to a seat across from him, cleared his throat, and continued:

“Lift your head. Don’t be ashamed. Your looks are a gift from your parents. It’s not your fault you turned out like this.”

Su Xuan slowly raised his head, although he felt a bit awkward inside—because, truth be told, he couldn’t really blame his parents for the way he looked…

“As long as you hold righteousness in your heart, you can become an outstanding warrior.”

Though the coach spoke seriously, he was inwardly astonished. Wow… now that he’s looking up—he really is beautiful.

“I’m Zhang Heng, your assigned personal instructor. Do you have any questions?”

Zhang Heng calmly picked up a thermos filled with goji berries and took a sip—swallowing to ease his throat.

“I want to know how I can break through to the Initial Form as quickly as possible.”

Su Xuan looked at Zhang Heng and spoke in a voice that had long since grown soft and delicate.

“Uh… Actually, I don’t recommend taking shortcuts in cultivation. After all, the goal is to defeat the Black Fiends, not to compete in how fast you can train.”

“If you’re in your senior year, your main priority should be stabilizing your phantom soul. Once you get into college, there will be specialized instructors to guide your training. If you apply for a military academy, it’ll be even easier to reach the Initial Form quickly.”

Zhang Heng spoke slowly, clearly hoping to dissuade Su Xuan from rushing into things. According to his file, this student was only slightly above average academically—not the kind of talent capable of reaching the Initial Form during high school.

Wanting to steer him away from an unrealistic path, Zhang Heng added:

“High school is the foundation-building stage. You should focus on stabilizing your phantom soul and using soul essence to awaken your inner potential. If you lay the groundwork well now, then once you enter college—with its high-pressure training environment—breaking through to the Initial Form will be easy.”

“Remember, reaching the Initial Form isn’t your end goal. Even if it seems far off, you should aim for higher forms. A warrior in the Second Form has ten times—no, even a hundred or a thousand times—the combat value of one in the Initial Form. If you ever reach the Third Form, you’d be a true leader of humankind.”

“Even reaching the Second Form is extremely difficult. Out of thousands, only five or six make it. Sometimes only one or two. If you don’t stabilize your foundation now, it’ll be even harder to reach higher forms later.”

“Of course, I understand if you think the Second or Third Form sounds too far away—some people never reach that level their whole life.”

“But you should know, the Initial Form isn’t some flat plain of equal strength. It’s more like a rugged mountain range—full of peaks and valleys. The difference between them can be vast. A top-tier Initial Form warrior can go toe-to-toe with someone in the Second Form, while a weakling might only be able to bully high schoolers.”

Realizing he’d talked too much, Zhang Heng felt his throat dry up and quickly drank from his thermos—gulp gulp gulp.

Su Xuan’s face flushed red from being lectured—like a ripe apple, tempting and vibrant.

“Damn weather’s too dry today. I’ve barely said a few words and my throat’s parched.”

Zhang Heng glanced at Su Xuan’s apple-red cheeks, took another big gulp, and laughed internally.

Despite the guilt Zhang Heng tried to invoke, Su Xuan had no intention of backing down. This was a bet he made with his very soul—he couldn’t afford to lose. Besides, everything Zhang Heng warned about didn’t seem to apply to him at all.

First, his phantom soul didn’t need tempering—it had been fully formed from the moment it awakened.

Second, the amount of soul essence he possessed was enormous. When he revived Su Xuan’er, he had been flooded with soul essence, much of which still lingered, embedded in his cells, undigested.

Plus, Su Xuan’er’s soul essence was extremely potent, aggressively refining his potential—maybe even too much, since it had awakened something extraordinary within him.

With such a powerful phantom soul, and a body that could physically withstand its strength, Su Xuan felt the downsides of rapid training wouldn’t apply to him.

So, taking advantage of the moment Zhang Heng was sipping tea, Su Xuan calmly explained his situation.

“Coach, I believe everything you said is correct—but none of it really applies to me. My average academic standing has nothing to do with my talent. I’ve never taken exams seriously.”

“My phantom soul has long been fully refined and no longer needs time to stabilize. The soul essence refinement of my body has already reached a limit. At this point, if I continue training by just absorbing energy particles, it’s a huge waste of time. If I go the regular path, I’d still only need two more months to break through.”

“But in two months, I’ll miss the opportunity to join the Military Summer Training Camp.”

“To serve humanity on the battlefield as early as possible, I want to break through to the Initial Form now. That’s why I came to ask how I can achieve it faster.”

Su Xuan spoke with calm clarity. First, he acknowledged Zhang Heng’s points. Then, he explained his own special circumstances. Finally, he appealed to a higher cause—the survival of humanity.

It was a flawless response—respectful yet assertive, giving Zhang Heng face while clearly expressing his determination.

“…Hmm. You can break through to the Initial Form in two months? That’s impressive. Like I said, if you steadily build your foundation and reach a stable, saturated state, once you enter a military academy, intensive training will let you break through quickly.”

“From what you’ve described, you’re already in that saturated state. That means you’re progressing steadily without heavy training or external pressure. Your phantom soul is fully refined, so the conditions are right.”

“It’s like staying home, eating protein, but not exercising—you’ll still gain strength slowly. But if you pair that with proper workouts, your progress will be much faster and more balanced.”

“So if you really want to reach the Initial Form quickly, you’ll need a lot of intense training.”

Zhang Heng narrowed his eyes with a mischievous grin.

“So, are you willing to accept devil-level training? Be warned—most people can’t handle that kind of punishment. Are you ready to prove you’re a real man?”

Zhang Heng chuckled, looking at the young man in front of him who was even more stunning than the prettiest girls in the performance troupe. He couldn’t help imagining the pitiful expression Su Xuan would make when pushed to his limits—and his grin grew even wider.