Study

Chen Chuan had previously considered the quota opportunities at the academy far too expensive to afford, but this time he felt he could try applying for one. He always believed that money sitting in a platform account would eventually be siphoned away by someone if left untouched, so he might as well convert it into something of value as early as possible. Connecting to the academy's platform, he navigated to the application section. The system immediately generated an application form. An appendix at the end explained that every official student of Wuyi Academy was permitted to apply once a month. The academy would adjust the queue order based on factors such as submission time, student evaluation scores, and the number of applicants. Each irradiation session incurred an internal fee ranging from three to five thousand yuan. Chen Chuan looked over the numbers. Viewed this way, ten thousand yuan wouldn't go very far—it would only cover two or three sessions at best. Still, lasting two or three months was decent enough, and he could figure out other means when the time came. After filling out the form, he submitted it. A moment later, the platform informed him that he had been placed in the queue and instructed him to wait patiently for a formal response. Shortly after, another notification arrived, stating that because the entire quota for the current month had already been allocated at the beginning of the month, he would have to wait until next month. A fee of three thousand yuan would be deducted. Attached below was an additional notice informing students that if they lacked the means to pay, the academy offered student loan services at an interest rate of "only" twenty-five percent. He casually swiped the message away. Waiting in line was fine by him, so long as his turn actually came. After tidying his things, he went to take a quick shower. Upon returning, he drew the curtains and browsed the day's news. Even though many people had died in the Taowo Market explosion, there was no coverage of it on mainstream channels, whether because it didn't qualify or simply because too little time had passed. He did, however, find mentions of it among marginal news outlets. The reports framed it as a violent crime committed by fighters that was swiftly resolved by law enforcers from the Disposal Bureau. Below, the comment section was filled with the usual endless bickering. Chen Chuan spotted himself in the footage. Judging from the angle, the person who had uploaded the clip was likely one of the security patrol members on the scene. Commenters below were actively debating his strength. Most believed he was a third-limit fighter because the speed he had displayed was extraordinarily fast, nearly impossible for ordinary people to follow. However, an interesting voice message using a pitch modifier from a user named "Dancing on a Bottle Cap" caught his attention: "I can guarantee this is a second-limit fighter. "Even among second-limit fighters, there are vast differences. The reason you couldn't clearly see his movements is that his overall coordination was exceptional. From the leap to crashing through the window to landing inside the market, the entire sequence was seamless, without a single pause. His power distribution was dialed in just right—not a fraction too much, not a fraction too little." His post immediately drew a barrage of mockery, with people accusing him of pretending to know what he was talking about and offering lengthy breakdowns to prove him wrong. Chen Chuan, however, knew that "Dancing on a Bottle Cap" had judged correctly. At the time, he truly hadn't exerted speed or power comparable to the third limit. Even so, Dancing on a Bottle Cap wasn't without supporters. One commenter agreed, saying that the leap had been remarkably smooth and fluid, offering pure visual satisfaction to anyone who genuinely understood combat. Because Chen Chuan's back was turned to the camera throughout the clip and his face was hidden, the discussion shifted to his identity. Someone speculated that he might not be from the Disposal Bureau, noting that his attire didn't resemble their uniform and looked more like something from the State Administration Bureau. That comment vanished almost instantly, however, and the user didn't seem to post again. While Chen Chuan was reading through the thread, a call suddenly came in. Seeing that it was Tan Zhi, he answered. Tan Zhi's voice came through immediately: "Hey, Classmate Chen, how about heading out to unwind this rest day? I can introduce you to a few classmates while we're at it. We might be able to look out for each other down the road." Chen Chuan asked, "Where to?" Tan Zhi replied, "A one-day sea cruise. A senior student is taking us aboard, and I guarantee there'll be plenty of activities you've never seen before." Chen Chuan had no reason to turn down this kind of socializing. He would likely have to deal with these classmates in the future anyway, and there was plenty he could learn from such interactions. He asked, "Is it safe?" "Completely safe. They've run this event many times before, and we won't even leave the Center City waters. All boundary credentials will work just fine, so you won't be bored." Chen Chuan said, "Alright, Classmate Tan. I'll be there. Thank you." "Don't mention it!" Tan Zhi said. "I was the one who guided your orientation, so we ought to stay in close touch. You'll understand in time, Classmate Chen." After ending the call, Chen Chuan browsed the news for a little while longer, then casually clicked on the movies listed below. His predecessor had loved watching movies, but older films were nothing like the ones in Center City. The latter offered a genuine sense of immersion, especially when experienced through the boundary credential provided by the Disposal Bureau, which made viewers feel as though they were physically present in the scene. Because of that, even older movies took on a fresh novelty, allowing viewers to immerse themselves completely and experience the protagonist's world. Yet after watching for just three minutes—ads included—a prompt popped up demanding payment. He closed it decisively. Seeing that it was nearly ten o'clock, he turned in for the night. At five the next morning, he woke on schedule. He went through his routine training first, then contacted Instructor Zheng, who taught saber techniques, around eight o'clock. The instructor replied that he was free right then and that Chen Chuan could come over whenever convenient. Chen Chuan packed his gear and set out. Instructor Zheng's residence was in Wuding District, not far from the Xuan Palace Building. The drive took only about ten minutes, so he arrived before eight-thirty. When he knocked, the instructor opened the door himself and led him inside with a welcoming smile. The instructor was just under fifty, burly and robust, with a ruddy complexion, a full beard, and a booming voice. He spoke directly, exuding a hearty frankness. Beyond the main gate lay a spacious front courtyard. Beneath retractable rain canopies on both sides stood racks displaying an assortment of sabers—dozens in total, encompassing various domestic and foreign patterns. Instructor Zheng remarked, "This place looks pretty big, doesn't it? Hah, big as it is, I'm still paying off loans for it and have to take on assigned missions from the Disposal Bureau. Young man, you'd better start thinking about this too. Once you graduate from the academy and want to make a name for yourself in Center City, you'll need a place of your own sooner or later." Moving toward the weapon racks, he added, "Let me see your basics first." He casually lifted a saber from the rack and swung it gently toward Chen Chuan. His movement was not fast, allowing Chen Chuan to see it clearly, yet Chen Chuan felt an odd certainty that he couldn't dodge. He promptly raised his blade to parry, but felt almost no force behind the strike, as though it were truly nothing more than a light, drifting blow. Yet just as that thought formed, a sudden surge of force burst through. Chen Chuan reacted quickly, adjusting his stance at once, but the momentum still forced him half a step sideways. Instructor Zheng lowered his saber. "I have a rough idea of your level now." Chen Chuan turned it over in his mind. He had deliberately reined in his condition from the moment he entered, as technical training was far more effective when holding back. Had he relied solely on raw strength and speed, the practice would have been meaningless. Even so, he felt that even if he had gone all out, he still wouldn't have parried that strike cleanly; the outcome most likely would have been the same. There was no mystery to it: Instructor Zheng's mastery in applying jin far surpassed his own. Even if Chen Chuan perceived the subtlety of the strike, his physical adjustments simply couldn't keep pace. A true fight to the death was another matter entirely, of course, but in terms of pure technique, he was indisputably outmatched. Then again, that was precisely why he had come here to learn. Instructor Zheng spoke up. "Lacking technique is something you can fix through practice, but a person's courage and confidence are easily lost and hard to gather back. You failed to block that strike just now, but what I saw in your eyes was neither defeat nor dejection. That's good. Being outmatched in skill isn't shameful—you just have to find a way to catch up. Lose that drive, though, and all the practice in the world is useless. "Mm, your foundation is very solid, which means we can skip a lot of steps. Based on your situation, I'll break this training into several stages. Today, I'll start by teaching you how to defend." He got straight to the point without any hesitation, demonstrating directly with the saber to teach Chen Chuan how to coordinate his breathing and mutated tissue to yield and neutralize incoming force. He proved remarkably patient. When teaching, he wasn't nearly as impetuous as his exterior suggested, consistently pointing out subtle flaws Chen Chuan had overlooked at crucial moments. His instruction was much like his blade work: rugged on the surface, yet nuanced underneath. Chen Chuan practiced throughout the morning and largely got the hang of channeling these forces. His foundation was solid, after all; the Zhouyuan Jin Technique gave his mutated tissues exceptional coordination, sparing him the grueling adjustments others had to go through. In truth, if a student's mutated tissue couldn't support the required exertion, an instructor would have to devise ways to modify how the student generated force, or find medicine to stimulate additional mutated tissue in areas where a foundation already existed. That was the true purpose of an instructor guiding technical training. They rarely could impart techniques in their entirety; instead, they had to make deliberate choices or tailor the power exertion to the student's unique mutated tissue. That required substantial knowledge and expertise—something ordinary fighters, no matter how formidable in combat, lacked the ability to teach. Chen Chuan's rapid grasp came as a pleasant surprise to Instructor Zheng. This meant they could skip the tedious adjustment steps entirely and move straight to the core material. "The best way to master technique is through live sparring. Nothing trains a person better. For a fighter, talking about it a hundred times isn't as good as trading blows once." Instructor Zheng called out toward the yard, "Zheng Tongtong!" Brisk, rhythmic footsteps approached from outside. Before long, a stout young woman in her early twenties walked in. She bore a strong resemblance to Instructor Zheng, with a broad round face and thick limbs, yet she didn't seem clumsy in the slightest; on the contrary, there was an unmistakable nimbleness to her stride. Instructor Zheng said, "This is Trainee Chen. Spar a few rounds with him." "Alright!" Zheng Tongtong had clearly inherited Instructor Zheng's brisk nature. Without another word, she pulled a hefty, thick-backed saber from the rack, clasped her fist toward Chen Chuan, and said, "Junior, let's trade pointers!"