Dongjiang Province, Red River City, Honghe First Middle School.
Xu Wuyi sat in a middle row seat by the window, staring blankly into space.
Spread out before him was a newly distributed report card, still smelling of fresh ink. The title at the top read: "Citywide Martial Arts High School Senior Year First Mock Exam."
Xu Wuyi's gaze swept over the total score for academic subjects: 512 points.
It was a score he had expected—neither good nor bad. It barely touched the cutoff line for Tier 1 universities from previous years, meaning he would need a stroke of luck.
His gaze moved down, landing on the Martial Arts Class section that took up the right third of the report card.
Life Energy Level: 8.6.
Basic Body Refining Technique Grade: C.
Mountain-Shattering Fist (Elective) Grade: C-.
'The estimated cutoff for undergraduate Martial Arts programs this year is a Life Energy Level of around 9.0.'
Xu Wuyi sighed to himself.
The Life Energy Level was a metric used in the modern Martial Arts Realm to assess the strength of a Martial Artist's life force, calculated using a highly scientific statistical method.
An adult male who had never practiced Martial Arts would have a Life Energy Level of about 5.0.
Xu Wuyi's Life Energy Level of 8.6 was average among Martial Arts Students, but it was still 0.4 shy of the lowest estimated undergraduate cutoff.
Only those who met the undergraduate cutoff could even participate in the practical Martial Arts combat exam; anything less was a wasted effort.
At the front of the classroom, the homeroom teacher, Li Hong, tapped her desk, and the quiet stir among the students subsided.
"You've all seen your scores. Your academic classes are the foundation; I won't repeat how important they are." Her voice was steady, yet it carried an innate pressure.
"Your Martial Arts scores are the real watershed. They are what determine whether you can get into a Martial Arts University, especially your grade in the Basic Body Refining Technique."
She turned and, with a piece of chalk, wrote on the blackboard:
The Root of Qi and Blood, the Foundation of Circulation.
"This Cultivation Technique was tailor-made for your age group by national-level Grandmasters. It is the safest and most effective Foundation Establishment Technique. Every single movement, every breath, has been honed through countless trials."
Teacher Li's gaze swept across the classroom.
"Don't dismiss it as simple and tedious. The more fundamental something is, the further you can go in the future. Whether your movements are precise, whether your Heart and Spirit are fully invested—these things directly affect the efficiency of your Qi and Blood growth and the stability of your foundation."
"During the practical Martial Arts exam, the stronger your Qi and Blood, the greater your chances of earning a high score."
"..."
Xu Wuyi listened in silence.
He had heard these same words far too many times over the past three years.
He turned his head to look out the window, where some Martial Arts Students were already doing extra training on the field. The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the ground.
He pressed his lips together, folded the report card in half, and tucked it into his schoolbag.
"Ah Yi, how'd you do?" his deskmate, Zhou Heng, asked, leaning closer.
Zhou Heng was a tall guy. His academic scores were a little worse than Xu Wuyi's, and their Martial Arts scores were similarly matched—his Life Energy Level was 8.7.
After seeing the report card, Zhou Heng clicked his tongue. "Tsk, about what I expected. My Life Energy Level is 8.7, Body Refining Technique is a C, and Fist Technique is a C+. My mom said as long as I can get into a Tier 1 university, it's fine. She's not pushing for a Martial Arts major. That stuff is all about talent."
His tone was casual, as if he had accepted this reality a long time ago.
"Yeah," Xu Wuyi mumbled in response.
Zhou Heng's family was better off, and his parents seemed more easygoing about it all.
But Xu Wuyi couldn't be like that. His faint hopes for a future in Martial Arts, coupled with his frustration at his own circumstances, were like a thorn lodged deep in his heart.
"I'm heading out. See you tomorrow." Zhou Heng patted him on the shoulder, slung his bag on, and disappeared into the stream of departing students.
...
Xu Wuyi's route home took him past the adjunct training facility for Red River Wuda.
Through the tall metal fence, he could see students in professional training uniforms practicing in the state-of-the-art facility.
Their movements were agile, their Qi and Blood abundant. They were the true elites.
Every time Xu Wuyi passed by, he would subconsciously stare for a moment before lowering his head and pedaling his bike faster.
He lived in an old residential complex where the hallways smelled of a mixture of cooking oil and food.
As he pushed open the front door, the SIZZLE of stir-frying came from the kitchen, the aroma growing stronger.
"You're back?" His mother, wearing an apron, poked her head out of the kitchen, her forehead slightly damp with sweat. "Go wash your hands. Dinner's almost ready."
"Okay." Xu Wuyi changed his shoes and set his schoolbag on a chair in the living room.
His father was sitting on the sofa, watching TV.
A highlight reel from the provincial youth Martial Arts tournament was playing on the screen, full of dazzling visuals and a fast-talking host.
"Look at that kid. He's really something else!" his father said without turning around, pointing a finger at the TV screen.
The image on screen froze on a young man delivering a fierce side kick. The movement was clean and decisive, accompanied by the sound of rushing air.
The competitor's information appeared in the corner of the screen: [Chu Shanhe, 17, Linjiang City First Middle School, Life Energy Level… Estimated 14+].
"Old Xu, don't just stare at the screen. Come help with the food," his mother called from the kitchen.
His father grunted in acknowledgment and headed to the kitchen.
For a moment, the only sound in the living room was the commentator's excited voice from the TV: "That kick from competitor Chu Shanhe already contains thirty percent of the True Intention of the Wind-Splitting Leg! A true hero emerges from the young generation!"
The three of them sat down for dinner.
The program on the TV was still going, with the host passionately analyzing Chu Shanhe's chances of winning the championship, calling him "the rising star of the Dongjiang Province Martial Arts Realm."
"This Chu Shanhe is really incredible," his father said after a mouthful of rice, unable to resist commenting. "I heard he comes from an ordinary family, too. He accomplished all this on his own. That kind of talent…"
His mother cut him off. "Just eat. Why are you talking so much? It doesn't matter how amazing other people's kids are; it has nothing to do with us."
As she spoke, she placed some more vegetables into Xu Wuyi's bowl.
"Ah Yi, eat up. Studying is tiring, and practicing martial arts is even more draining. Don't put too much pressure on yourself."
"I know, Mom."
...
A little after ten o'clock, Xu Wuyi closed his last workbook.
The room fell completely silent. Outside the window, there was only the faint halo of a few scattered streetlights in the complex.
It was time for his daily Martial Arts practice.
He changed into loose sweatpants, turned off the overhead light, and left on only the small lamp on his desk. Then, he cleared a small space in the center of his room.
He took a deep breath to clear his mind of distracting thoughts and assumed the Starting Form of the Basic Body Refining Technique: "Holding the Essence and Guarding the One."
'Sink the shoulders, drop the elbows, relax the waist, tuck the hips...' He recited the key points one by one in his mind.
With slow, deep breaths, he used his Intention to try and guide the Qi and Blood within him, circulating it along specific pathways.
Once, twice, three times...
His body gradually warmed up, and fine beads of sweat began to form on his skin.
Xu Wuyi could feel his Qi and Blood flowing, but the sensation was faint and dissipated. It was difficult to gather, let alone use it to efficiently break through his internal blockages and strengthen his body.
It felt like trying to carve stone with a dull knife—laborious, with painstakingly slow progress. This was the hallmark of mediocre talent.
The process was tedious and repetitive, offering an extremely low sense of reward. But he didn't stop. He continued to do his best to control every subtle movement of his body and regulate the rhythm of his breathing.
This was the only clear path to improvement he knew of. No matter how slow it was, he couldn't give up.
The image of the boy named Chu Shanhe and the carefully hopeful looks in his parents' eyes flashed alternately through his mind.
Time slipped by quietly, and the hands of the wall clock slid past eleven.
Fatigue began to set in. His muscles grew sore and weak, but what was more apparent was the exhaustion of his Spirit.
The sustained, intense focus was draining his Spirit, making it difficult to concentrate. Inevitably, the precision of his movements began to falter.
After forcing himself through the closing form one last time, Xu Wuyi stood in place, panting as sweat trickled down from his temples.
A familiar sense of powerlessness washed over him, just as it had on countless nights over the past three years.
He worked so hard, pouring in time and sweat, but he couldn't see any progress at all. His exam scores fluctuated, and sometimes, he even regressed.
'Maybe Zhou Heng and his parents are right?'
'Maybe I should just accept reality and give up on these unrealistic fantasies?'
'People like Chu Shanhe were born to be in the spotlight.'
The thought had barely formed before it was crushed by an even more intense wave of indignation.
'I won't accept it.'
'Why should it be this way?'
Perhaps it was because this indignation was exceptionally strong, or perhaps because his Spirit had become hyper-sensitive from utter exhaustion, but in the very instant his Heart and Spirit churned and he prepared to end his training for the night—
His consciousness suddenly wavered, sinking as if he were weightless.
Deep within his sea of consciousness, an ancient, ethereal scroll quietly materialized, glowing with a faint, bronze-colored light.
It bore no ornate decorations, only the profound weight of having endured endless ages.
Lines of archaic text appeared on the face of the scroll:
[Martial Arts Diligence Record]
Martial Arts: Basic Body Refining Technique
Current Realm: Beginner (97.3%)
Martial Arts Traits: Locked
Assessment: Meager foundation, potential untapped.
Xu Wuyi froze, his breath catching in his throat.
'An illusion?' He reflexively shut his eyes, shook his head hard, and opened them again.
The scroll was still there, suspended deep in his consciousness. The text hadn't changed in the slightest.
'Realm… Beginner 97.3%?'