The Real World

Several more days passed, and the end of November soon arrived. Normally, Chen Chuan would have needed to sit for the monthly exams, but after obtaining his weapons license, that was no longer necessary. Not only the monthly exams—now he was even exempt from midterms and finals. After all, securing a weapons license was proof enough of his strength. His actual skill already surpassed that of typical students in his own year or even upperclassmen, rendering ordinary assessments entirely pointless. This spared him the trouble of preparing for tests, but it hardly meant he could sit idle. Next month, he would likely take on new assignments and undergo more advanced training. Thus, over the past few days, he had been heading early each morning to the Weapons Division's training hall to spar with the students there, honing his familiarity with the long saber. Naturally, they used practice weapons for sparring. Even with a weapons license, there was no need for him to carry live blades around campus all day. That day, after wrapping up his training, he headed back to his dorm to freshen up before grabbing a meal. But stepping out of the elevator and walking into the living quarters, he saw someone standing outside his door: a pale, rather handsome young man dressed in an expensive, finely tailored imported suit. Wei Dong stood there as well, the two locked in a staring contest. Looking between them with mild surprise, Chen Chuan asked Wei Dong curiously, "Brother Dong, what's going on here?" "Brother Chen," Wei Dong said, "he doesn't look like a good person." Chen Chuan smiled. "This is a dorm building. If the dorm proctor let him up here, there shouldn't be any issue." Wei Dong thought about it, then said, "Still doesn't look like a good person." Chen Chuan hummed in acknowledgment and glanced at the young man. "I'll handle it." "Alright!" Wei Dong agreed briskly, slipping back into his room and shutting the door with a firm thud. Chen Chuan then turned to the young man. "Can I help you with something, Senior? Why are you standing outside my door?" Hearing this, the handsome young man abandoned his previously aloof composure. He turned toward Chen Chuan and asked, "You're Chen Chuan?" Chen Chuan nodded. "I am." The young man studied him for a moment before saying, "I need to speak with you in private." He added with emphasis, "It's very important for you." Chen Chuan looked at him, pulled out his key to unlock the door, and gestured with an open hand. "Please, after you." Without the slightest courtesy, the young man walked straight inside. Chen Chuan followed, went over to the cabinet, poured a cup of water, and said, "I only have plain water here." The young man stopped in the center of the living room, turned around, and said, "My name is Jing Lin. I'm not your senior just yet." Chen Chuan nodded. "Well then, Mr. Jing, you said you had something to discuss. What is it?" Jing Lin replied flatly, "My teacher wishes to see you. You probably don't know who he is, so I'll tell you now: he comes from Center City. This is an opportunity for you, and my teacher rarely gives people opportunities. "You're very lucky. I have no idea why he took a sudden interest in you—after all, you don't look like anything special. Well, that's all. Come with me." With that, he turned and headed straight for the door. Yet when he reached the threshold, he noticed Chen Chuan was still standing where he was, unmoving. Jing Lin frowned, visibly displeased. "What are you still standing there for? Hurry up and follow me." Chen Chuan turned around, his back to the French window. A long shadow cast to one side obscured his features, but his voice came through clearly: "I'm sorry, Mr. Jing, but I have no interest whatsoever in meeting your teacher." Jing Lin froze in astonishment, looking at Chen Chuan as if finding the situation absurd. He looked Chen Chuan up and down and warned, "Do you even know what you're saying? Do you fail to understand what this means? Forget it..." He sounded thoroughly impatient. "I'll say it once more. Follow me now and come meet my teacher. Did you hear me clearly?" In a calm, natural tone, Chen Chuan replied, "I'm sorry, but if that's all you have to say, then I've already given you my definitive answer. Mr. Jing, you may leave." Jing Lin sneered. "Foolish!" Irritation laced his words. "Do you honestly think what you see before you is everything? I despise self-righteous people like you." Chen Chuan replied calmly, "If you refuse to leave, I can ask the dorm proctor to escort you out." Jing Lin stared at him for a moment and let out a dry chuckle. Lowering his head before raising it again, he sneered, "I knew it would come to this. You people from backwaters are always so arrogant, like frogs looking at the sky from the bottom of a well, completely ignorant of what the real world is." He scoffed once more. "I read about you in the papers. Supposedly, you're quite a fighter. I'd like to see it for myself—and give you..." He loosened his tie slightly. "...a fresh understanding of this world." Chen Chuan looked at him. "You want to spar with me?" "Spar? Heh, if that's how you want to see it, sure." Chen Chuan nodded. "Very well. Let's go outside." He took the lead, with Jing Lin following closely behind. Before long, the two stepped out of the corridor and arrived at the open training floor for that level, stopping to face each other. Chen Chuan loosened his shoulders slightly. Seeing Jing Lin standing rigidly straight without the slightest inclination to move, he reminded him, "Don't you need to warm up?" Jing Lin said coldly, "No need. Let's begin now. It will be over quickly anyway." "Then let's begin," Chen Chuan said. Jing Lin raised a hand. "Watch closely." As he spoke, his body suddenly blurred. Without any discernible motion, he vanished from his spot and reappeared beside Chen Chuan in the next instant, still holding his original standing posture. Jing Lin glanced sideways at Chen Chuan, who seemed to be frozen in place. A contemptuous smirk touched the corner of Jing Lin's mouth as he reached out to clasp Chen Chuan's shoulder. Yet before his palm could land, a sudden pain flared across it. To his shock, he realized his hand had been batted aside by Chen Chuan's reaching hand. Hm? He was thoroughly bewildered. His movement was propelled by mutated tissue stimulated through a specialized technique, far surpassing the reaction speed of typical fighters. How could Chen Chuan, who was at most in the First Limit, possibly keep up? Before he could recover from his shock, Chen Chuan pivoted fluidly to face him head-on, and that same hand snapped forward with a crisp smack, locking onto Jing Lin's wrist in a fluid grip. Jing Lin's eyes narrowed. As Chen Chuan seized him, jin naturally seeped from his palm. If an ordinary fighter were caught like this without mutated tissue strengthening the wrist joint or jin to resist, Chen Chuan could easily have crushed the joint in a single squeeze. Yet this time, Chen Chuan felt no opposing jin meeting his own; the jin he exerted sank like a stone into the sea, producing not the slightest reaction. Nor did Jing Lin pull his hand back. Instead, he pushed it upward, slipping a short distance free, before driving his wrist downward like a blade, hooking back under Chen Chuan's wrist. Throughout the maneuver, his entire arm moved like a slithering serpent. Cold disdain glinted in Jing Lin's eyes. Now that he had Chen Chuan entangled, a single twisting snap would shatter the bones of Chen Chuan's arm—the only proper way to teach him a lesson. Yet when he exerted force, he discovered that what he had coiled around felt less like a flesh-and-blood arm and more like cast steel. It would not budge in the slightest. Disbelief flickered in his eyes. How is this possible? A struggle entangled like this ultimately came down to a contest of resilience and force between mutated tissues. How long had this youth been training? How much mutated tissue could he possibly have developed in just two or three short months? How could he withstand pressure of this magnitude? Chen Chuan could feel pulses of force surging through his arm. More than that, he noticed that Jing Lin held a coiled, tightening power throughout nearly his entire body. It was almost entirely decoupled from his breathing rhythm; when he exerted jin, there was no warning or hesitation whatsoever. He was completely unlike any opponent Chen Chuan had faced before. If that was all, however... Chen Chuan guided his arm outward with a light tug. A colossal burst of power erupted, pulling Jing Lin off-balance and sending him stumbling two steps sideways. Chen Chuan then stamped his foot and surged forward in a sudden explosive rush. Jing Lin's pupils contracted at the sight, but he latched onto Chen Chuan's arm with both hands, sinking his center of gravity in an attempt to drag him to a halt. Yet the effort proved entirely futile. He was practically dragged backward by Chen Chuan, his shoes screeching sharply against the floor. In just a few strides, Chen Chuan reached the wall. With a flick of his arm, he hoisted Jing Lin into the air and slammed him sideways into the wall. Jing Lin's eyes went wide. "You—" Thud! The entire wall shuddered. Yet at the moment of impact, the muscles across Jing Lin's back rippled, shedding the brunt of the force. Expressionless, Chen Chuan yanked him back, hoisted him into the air once more, and whipped him against the wall again! Thud! Jing Lin coughed violently, choked with shock and rage. "Stop! Stop it!" Thud! Chen Chuan paid no heed to his shouts, slamming him against the wall again and again. The tremendous pounding echoed across the entire seventh floor, drawing students out of their rooms to see what was happening, while a dorm proctor hurried over with a stern expression. Yet the brutal impacts continued unabated. With each strike, Jing Lin's complexion grew worse. At first, he could rely on his specialized muscle, bone, and jin to withstand and dissipate the force. But under such rapid, relentless pounding, the tension he maintained began to slip away. His bones felt as if they were coming undone with every collision, and no matter how he tried to exert force mid-strike, he could not counteract that pure, overwhelming power. Most crucially, through this rapid, violent confrontation, Chen Chuan showed not the faintest hint of exhaustion. "How can this be..." A tempest of shock and fury twisted Jing Lin's face. After yet another slam, he finally hit his limit. The strength holding him together shattered in an instant, like a dense solid suddenly turning slack and limp. Sensing that the two arms entwined around him had gone limp as a pair of dead snakes, Chen Chuan shook his arm, flung them off, and dropped Jing Lin onto the floor. Straightening his clothes, he began walking back. After two steps, he turned his head slightly and said, "Welcome to the real world." With that, he walked off under the watchful eyes of the gathered students and the dorm proctor.