Why the position, not the puzzle
The usual way to practise a technique is to find a puzzle said to contain one and solve from the top. That means forty moves of scanning before you reach the interesting part, and by the time you get there you have forgotten what you came for. Worse, you often cannot tell whether the move you finally made was the one the puzzle was chosen for.
This page hands you the position instead. Every board here has been played forward by the same solver that grades our puzzles, stopping at the exact step where the technique you asked for becomes the move to make. The digits already on the grid are fixed — they are the setup, not your work — and the pencil marks are the ones the solve had at that moment.
Nothing easier applies. If a naked single were sitting on the board you would find it instead, and learn nothing — so a position is only offered when every cheaper technique has already run out.
The marks are part of the position
You are given pencil marks, which is unusual for a puzzle site and is not a convenience. On the upper half of the ladder there is generally no position at all where the technique is the move if you only have digits to look at: by the time an X-wing is what you need, a solver has been writing candidates for twenty moves, and the pattern lives in those notes rather than in the grid. Hand over the digits alone and the position quietly stops being the exercise — some cheaper move reappears, and you take it.
So the marks travel with the board, exactly as the solver had them. What you are looking at is a faithful snapshot of somebody's grid partway through a hard puzzle, which is the only honest way to practise the moves that only happen partway through hard puzzles.
What is offered, and what is not
The two singles are missing on purpose: they are the moves nobody needs drilling, and a position whose cheapest move is a single is just an ordinary puzzle. Rungs belonging to another board are missing too — the Law of Leftovers cannot occur on a square grid, and the diagonal and knight moves need their own variant's rules.
One absence is worth explaining, because it is a measurement rather than a decision. There is no practice for the jellyfish. Across sixty-seven thousand positions taken from more than a thousand puzzles at five different clue counts, a jellyfish was the cheapest move available exactly once. It is not that the pattern is hard to detect — it is that anything a four-line fish can do, a smaller fish or a wing has almost always done already. A technique you will never be obliged to use is not a technique worth drilling, and pretending otherwise would waste your time twice over.
The swordfish sits just inside that line and takes a moment to find, which is why the board sometimes thinks for a second or two before it appears. Everything else arrives more or less instantly. If a search comes back empty, asking again is the right response — the scarce moves are genuinely scarce, and the page would rather say so than serve you a position that does not keep its promise.
Using it well
Take the hint button seriously here: it names the move and shows you where, which on this page is the answer rather than a nudge. Try to find the pattern first, then use the hint to check whether what you found is what the solver found — those come apart more often than you would expect, and the disagreement is where the learning is.
When a technique starts feeling obvious, move down the list rather than up. The ladder here runs roughly in the order a solver meets these moves, and the reason people stall is almost never the exotic pattern at the bottom — it is a locked candidate or a hidden pair two rungs above it that they never quite made automatic.