Though Shan Xiong was of poor character, his year at Wuyi College had not been spent in vain. This kick rose with hidden speed, and by the time anyone could react, it landed squarely against the base of Chen Chuan's ear.
The moment the teaching assistants saw this, they prepared to signal for a stretcher.
A kick landing so cleanly would fell even a martial arts college student who had undergone rigorous impact-conditioning, let alone an untrained common applicant. If struck badly enough, it could easily prove fatal.
Yet what followed caught everyone completely off guard. Though struck by the kick, Chen Chuan's head merely tilted to the side, and his foot slid half a step outward. Then he slowly turned his head back and straightened his posture once more.
Unseen by the onlookers, at the exact moment he absorbed the blow, the head of the duplicate youth standing behind him had flickered and turned translucent.
Shan Xiong froze. He knew full well the devastating force behind that kick, yet Chen Chuan's gaze remained clear and steady, looking entirely unfazed.
Seated at the center of the long table was a middle-aged instructor with burly, thick arms whose dense muscles strained against his shirt. Having remained silent the entire time, he suddenly asked, "Name?"
"Ah? Oh!" The assistant beside him snapped to attention, picked up the roster on the desk, glanced over it, and looked up. "Chen Chuan."
"What's his background?"
"A native of Yangzhi City, just graduated from middle school. Nothing here indicates any boxing club membership or prior combat training..."
The instructor kept his eyes fixed on Chen Chuan. "Understood."
Failing to drop Chen Chuan with that kick, Shan Xiong heard the quiet murmurs rippling around the training hall, laced with hushed snickers. Feeling as though everyone was mocking him, the blood rushed to his head. Roaring with vicious fury, he spun and unleashed a ferocious spinning back kick!
Chen Chuan was never one to take hits without hitting back, nor was he intimidated by his opponent's status as a martial college student. Showing no sign of backing down, he swept a kick upward at Shan Xiong as well!
The motion bore a striking resemblance to the whip kick Shan Xiong had used earlier. Anyone could tell he was purely imitating it; lacking proper form, both its speed and power were visibly deficient.
Both unleashed their kicks almost at the same instant, but neither the observing assistants nor the students doubted for a second that Chen Chuan would be the one struck first!
Just as they anticipated, Shan Xiong's kick connected with Chen Chuan's head first. Yet the outcome remained identical to before: it failed to topple Chen Chuan, and this time, the boy did not even sway.
Meanwhile, Chen Chuan's kick arrived at the side of Shan Xiong's neck!
Almost simultaneously, the spectral figure stationed behind him surged into his position, and the two silhouettes overlapped in an instant!
In that single breath, his speed and power exploded exponentially!
Thwack!
A dull, concussive boom detonated across the training hall, trailing a faint echo that testified to the immense violence behind the strike.
Shan Xiong's eyes lost focus. His body tilted sideways and collapsed with a thud, landing flat on his back, limbs sprawled wide across the floor.
Liu Cai's mouth fell slightly open as he stared at the scene in sheer disbelief.
The other students present watched blankly, their thoughts scrambled. What just happened? Shan Xiong was a second-year martial college student—how could he be knocked cold by an applicant who clearly had never trained?
Soon after, gloating smiles broke out across their faces. Shan Xiong was an arrogant troublemaker who enjoyed little popularity within the college; watching him eat dirt and make a fool of himself made them cheer inwardly.
The instructor seated at the center pulled the registration form from the assistant's hand, picked up a pen, briskly signed his name, and stamped it. "This applicant passes."
Hearing the verdict, Chen Chuan could not help but glance at the instructor to confirm he meant him.
The middle-aged instructor said, "Student, your resilience against blows is quite impressive. I am Lecturer Bian Feng, and you have passed the examination. However, let me remind you: you have only cleared the initial entrance test. Whether you can truly secure your footing at Wuyi depends on the entrance retest in two months."
A bright smile surfaced on Chen Chuan's face. He bowed respectfully toward Bian Feng. "Thank you, Instructor!"
Applause broke out softly among the assistants and students around the perimeter. An entrance test this entertaining was truly a rare sight. They looked forward to seeing what this applicant would do next, firmly remembering his name. As for the dazed Shan Xiong still sprawled unconscious to the side, everyone seemed to have conveniently forgotten him.
Stepping out of the training hall, Chen Chuan met the dazzling sunlight outside. Looking at the path stretching forward from his feet, a wave of excitement and joy welled up within him.
"Junior Chen Chuan," a crisp, clear voice called from behind.
Chen Chuan turned around and saw the senior female student who had greeted him when he filled out his form. He walked over politely and asked, "Senior, can I help you with something?"
The girl walked up and extended her hand generously. "Junior Chen, congratulations on passing the exam. Let's make a proper introduction: my name is Zhen Ping, a current second-year student at the martial college."
Chen Chuan reached out and shook her hand. "I'm Chen Chuan. A pleasure to meet you, Senior Zhen."
He noticed her hand was remarkably soft and smooth, free of any calluses, yet underneath her skin lingered an unmistakable resilience. It gave him the odd impression that if she clenched her fingers, she could crush his palm to pieces.
Zhen Ping said, "Junior Chen, you need to watch your back. Shan Xiong is exceedingly petty and keeps company with some unsavory characters outside. The college's disciplinary rules keep him in line on campus, but out in the streets, it's hard to say. So take care of yourself."
Chen Chuan realized that Shan Xiong had to be the name of the tall student from before. He had no idea why that man had targeted him as if harboring a personal grudge, but many things in this world required no grand justification; picking fights simply out of petty spite was an everyday occurrence.
With genuine gratitude, he said, "Thank you, Senior. I'll be careful..."
"Zhenzhen!"
Just as they were speaking, another girl waved toward them from not far off. Zhen Ping waved back, then turned to him. "Junior Chen, I hope your matriculation goes smoothly. Keep working hard. See you around." With a parting wave, she jogged off with brisk, light steps.
Chen Chuan bid her goodbye in return. After standing there for a moment, he turned and left the old academic building. Rather than taking the path he came by, he followed the directional signs along a different route to avoid the steady influx of applicants still arriving to register.
When he reached the bicycle shed to retrieve his bike, he found a handful of promotional flyers stuffed into the rear rack. Pulling them out, he saw they were advertisements for various boxing clubs, combat arenas, and training gyms. After a thought, he decided against tossing them; folding them neatly, he slipped them into his satchel. He then wheeled his bicycle out the front gates, mounted it on the main road, and pedaled homeward.
Along the way, he considered his options. Wuyi College provided free room and board to its official students, which would temporarily solve his living arrangements once he moved out of his aunt's home.
Furthermore, if his academic and combat marks were sufficiently outstanding, a portion of the tuition could be waived, and he might even earn a scholarship. While the latter remained uncertain, he felt confident about achieving the former, because...
He glanced toward the street corner ahead. The identical figure stood there, watching him in silence. And after he rode several dozen meters to the next intersection, that silhouette reappeared nearby, like a ghost he could never shake off.
Yet to hear him tell it, aside from lacking an independent consciousness, the figure was like an alternate self residing in the ethereal realm. As such, he had dubbed it his "Second Self."
The Second Self had appeared the moment he took over this body. Curiously, he had also been named Chen Chuan in his previous life, and aside from differences in age and personal history, their facial features were virtually identical. He surmised that the emergence of the Second Self was very likely triggered by a bridge formed between parallel versions of himself, or across two identical existences in separate worlds.
The Second Self could, according to his intent, actively or passively absorb part or all of the damage and pain he sustained. That was why Shan Xiong's kicks had not failed to connect; their impact had simply been borne by the Second Self.
Under normal circumstances, the Second Self remained separate from him. But once the two overlapped, his strength, reaction speed, endurance, and other faculties were vastly augmented—as though, in that instant, another complete version of himself was stacked upon his frame.
To his mind, if the Second Self was indeed himself, then all of this made perfect sense. Whether absorbing damage or exerting force, was it not fundamentally he who bore it in the end?
It was precisely the existence of the Second Self that gave him the confidence to apply to the martial college despite having never undergone formal combat training.
Yet the Second Self came with non-negligible limitations. First and foremost, it could not be used without restraint.
At present, the maximum daily duration he could overlap with the Second Self did not exceed thirty seconds. Naturally, he could divide that time into increments, but once the total limit was exhausted, borrowing the Second Self's power became impossible.
Furthermore, while the Second Self could shoulder damage in his stead, it possessed its own threshold. Once that limit was broken, it required time to slowly recover. When it absorbed damage, parts of its form would turn semi-translucent; if the damage reached an unbearable extreme, it would disperse like dissolving mist and take two to three days to re-manifest.
Based on prior experience, taking two such heavy kicks today should have required...
Wait.
He suddenly noticed that the Second Self showed no sign of translucency whatsoever. The damage sustained today seemed to have fully recovered, and the connection between them felt noticeably closer than before.
Surprised, he cast his mind back, and a hypothesis began to form. Could it be because he had knocked Shan Xiong down?
No, it was not merely the physical act of felling an opponent, but the sharp surge of pleasure and satisfaction he felt after bringing Shan Xiong down. And satisfying his own mind was tantamount to satisfying his Second Self; this mental resonance deepened their mutual connection, nudging the Second Self a step closer toward concrete reality.
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
If that were the case, perhaps their daily overlapping limit had increased as well. He could test that once he returned home. The thought buoyed his spirits, and his feet pedaled even faster.
The ride back went smoothly, bringing him home in under half an hour. The house was empty; Yu Wan had likely taken his younger cousin brother and sister to the constabulary's nursery care center.
After washing his face and tidying up a bit, he retreated to his bedroom, hung up his satchel, and changed out of his outer coat. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up an alarm clock, checked the time, closed his eyes, overlapped with the Second Self, and began counting.
Moments later, he opened his eyes and looked at the clock, his gaze alight with delight and excitement.
Just as he had guessed, the overlapping duration with the Second Self had increased—by roughly twelve seconds over the baseline, a substantial leap.
Yet was simply defeating an opponent enough to grant additional time? Thinking carefully, it might also have been because Shan Xiong was far stronger than he was. Had he defeated someone on his own level, he might not have derived nearly as much satisfaction, and the boost would not have been so pronounced.
Naturally, whether this was truly the case could only be tested and verified over time.
Calming his excitement, he went out to pour a cup of water, took a few sips, set the cup down, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and reached under the bed to pull out a brown leather suitcase.
He set the suitcase onto the desk, dialed the combination, popped the latches, and slowly opened the lid. Inside lay several notebooks with various deeds and certificates tucked between the pages, a wrapped bundle of photographs, and a black, invitation-like metal card.
He picked up the metal card. The contents of this suitcase were the belongings left behind by his predecessor's parents. Previously, he had not known what this object was, but upon visiting the martial college today, he realized its appearance closely resembled the recommendation credential he had seen, save for a difference in color.
In that case, should he present it? The upcoming entrance retest was no less crucial than the initial exam. Aside from granting exam exemptions, what other benefits might a recommendation credential confer?
After further thought, he decided to wait.
His uncle's family had always been tight-lipped and secretive regarding the deaths of his predecessor's parents. While the credential might offer convenience, it could just as easily invite trouble. Moreover, this card was black, unlike the silver credential he had observed earlier, suggesting a different purpose entirely. If he were to use it, he first needed to ascertain its true nature.
He could not afford to be careless; this world was far less safe than it appeared on the surface.
Setting down the metal card, he felt around beneath the bottom lining of the case and retrieved a smooth, polished pebble. Staring at it, his eyes darkened.
His predecessor's parents owned an old residence in the city outskirts. On the day his predecessor went there to sort through old belongings, he had seen a luxurious blue automobile drive past on his journey back—and then instantly lost consciousness.
Afterward, Chen Chuan confirmed that his predecessor had been struck cleanly through the heart by this tiny pebble, dying on the spot. By the time the body woke again, the current Chen Chuan had taken over, and it was at that exact moment that the Second Self had appeared.
Just who was the killer, and why had they targeted his predecessor in the first place?
Ring-ring-ring...
In the midst of his contemplation, the telephone in the living room suddenly chimed.
Chapter 3