As Oliver Queen

Chapter 5: The Road to Mastery

Dawn arrived with the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore, mingling with the rustling leaves of the dense jungle. I sat cross-legged on the cold ground, staring at my hands. They were calloused, hardened from days of relentless training, yet I knew it wasn't enough. My journey had only begun.

I clenched my fists. The island was unforgiving, a brutal teacher that cared little for failures. But I had no intention of failing.

Advancing Chakra Control

The morning training began as usual, but today, I had something more ambitious in mind. Chakra control wasn't just about climbing trees—I needed to apply it in practical combat scenarios.

Tree climbing was about precision. Water walking, however, was about adaptability. I needed to maintain an even flow of chakra while adjusting to constant movement. I recalled Naruto's training method and approached the small lake near my campsite.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the surface.

One step. Two steps. Three—

SPLASH!

I surfaced, coughing, soaked to the bone. I groaned, shaking my head. It wasn't surprising. Chakra control in a constantly shifting medium was far more challenging than a stable tree trunk. But I wasn't one to give up.

Hours passed, and my failures piled up, but slowly, improvement came. By midday, I could stand on the water for a few seconds before sinking. By evening, I was walking five, six, seven steps before losing my balance.

Progress. And progress meant survival.

Combat Drills: Refining Instincts

My combat skills needed drastic improvement. A military knife was no katana, but in the right hands, it could be just as deadly. I began incorporating chakra into my movements, aiming for enhanced reflexes and speed.

I practiced against makeshift wooden dummies, my blade slicing through bark like flesh. I focused on critical areas—the neck, the arteries, the kidneys. One strike, one kill. Wasting movement in real combat meant death.

Hours turned into an endless cycle of strikes, blocks, dodges. My hands bled, my muscles screamed, but I kept pushing. Every mistake became a lesson, every strike a refinement of my technique. I was sculpting myself into something more—something lethal.

The Evolution of Thought

My mind, sharpened by my new intelligence, processed information differently now. Every scenario, every action was broken down into probabilities and patterns.

The fusion of my soul with Oliver's had granted me a strategic mind—one that could calculate risks with stunning accuracy. I reviewed every battle, every mission Oliver had gone through in the original timeline. This knowledge was my greatest weapon.

If I could anticipate events, I could control them. If I could control them, I could shape my destiny.

First Encounter with an Enemy

The island wasn't empty. I knew this. But knowledge and experience were two different things.

I was tracking a deer through the jungle when I heard it—a hushed voice, a barely audible whisper carried by the wind. Instinct kicked in, and I dropped low, blending into the shadows.

Two men. Armed. Their uniforms suggested they were part of Fyers' mercenary unit.

My heartbeat slowed. This was my first real test. I wasn't ready for direct confrontation, but I could learn. I could gather intel.

I circled around, stepping with absolute silence. The men were discussing something in hushed tones.

"…shipment coming soon. Fyers wants everything in place."

"…the prisoner is still alive. Orders are to keep him breathing… for now."

A prisoner? My mind raced. Was it Yao Fei?

Hunting for Survival

I had no time to waste. If Yao Fei was alive, I needed to confirm it. But first, I needed food. My body demanded fuel.

I set up a snare trap, using sharpened stakes and tension-based triggers. It took patience, but eventually, I caught a rabbit.

Killing it was easier this time. Not because I had grown cold, but because I had accepted the reality of survival.

Skinning and cooking were messier, but necessary. The meal was crude, but it replenished me.

The First Stalk

Night fell. I watched the mercenaries from a distance, tracking their movements. They were sloppy, undisciplined. I could take one out easily, but a direct fight was unnecessary.

Instead, I memorized their patrol routes, their weak spots. Knowledge was power, and power meant control.

Tomorrow, I would act.

End of Chapter 5.