"Chenzhou, come home for dinner."
"Got it, Mom."
"Hurry up, the dishes are getting cold. Your dad and I have already finished eating, we're just waiting for you… You, too—just got your cast off and you're already following the coach to box again. You can't hurt your body, even when practicing Martial Arts!"
...
Su City, fourth floor of Wanhe Mall, Feite Martial Arts Hall.
Inside the octagonal cage—mixed scents of sweat and foot odor.
Lu Chenzhou ended the call with his mother, and gently wiped the sweaty fingerprints off his phone screen with a tissue. Beads of sweat, big as peas, slid down from the tip of his nose and dripped onto the rubber mat.
The bald coach patted Lu Chenzhou on the shoulder and earnestly said, "Chenzhou, are you really not going to continue for a few more sessions? Black Tiger Fist may be a basic Martial Art, but getting started with all thirty-six forms is no easy feat. I've planned 360 sessions for your training after this. As long as you follow my steps…"
Before the coach could finish, Lu Chenzhou shook his head.
"Thank you, Coach, but I'll pass."
The bald coach, unwilling to give up, asked:
"Dude, you're just giving up halfway like this?"
"It's fine, I'm heading out now. Thanks for all your guidance these days."
Lu Chenzhou shook off the coach who was trying to cling on, left the Martial Arts Hall, leaving the bald coach a bit disgruntled and mumbling to himself, "Tough nut to crack…"
The Martial Arts Hall was already running at a loss. The original plan was to squeeze a bit more tuition out of Lu Chenzhou before closing up shop and skipping town. Didn't expect this kid would be so hard to talk into it.
...
Building 3, Apartment 2802, Stone Lake Garden.
With his stomach growling, Lu Chenzhou returned home. His mother, Li Xianghua, was washing dishes, and there were still two dishes on the table: one plate of braised spare ribs, and one plate of stir-fried lettuce.
Lu Chenzhou took a shower, then sat at the dining table and said:
"Mom, I'm not going to the Martial Arts Hall anymore."
In the kitchen, Li Xianghua called out:
"Why the sudden decision? Didn't you just take ten sessions?"
She looked at Lu Chenzhou, who was eating with his head down.
Li Xianghua didn't understand Martial Arts, she was just an ordinary person. But she watched TV often and knew that Martial Arts required years of grinding practice; ten sessions certainly aren't enough.
However, thinking of the three hundred yuan per session, Li Xianghua guessed her son probably thought it was too expensive and didn't want to add to the family's burden.
She thought for a moment, then said:
"I'll discuss it with your dad when he gets back…"
"Really, Mom, there's no need."
"Don't you want to take the Martial Arts entrance exam at Pingjiang University?"
"I'm just a first-year, there are still three years to go. Mom, don't worry about it, I've got it planned out." Lu Chenzhou finished eating, picked up his phone, and went back to his bedroom.
Li Xianghua kept sighing to herself as she did the dishes.
Poor in literature, rich in Martial Arts—always been like this.
"With the effort and diligence Chenzhou puts in, even if he'd been born with intermediate root bone, he might've been recommended straight to Pingjiang Martial Arts University by now…"
The old lady Zhang's grandson upstairs was three years older than Chenzhou but still immature, always hanging out with a bad crowd, worrying the family sick.
But just because he was born with intermediate root bone, naturally suited to Martial Arts, at only eighteen he already reached Amateur Fourth Rank and got admitted to Pingjiang Martial Arts University. That's fate.
Martial Arts Cultivation—first, root bone; second, talent.
Talent is the ability to comprehend Martial Arts, intangible, unpredictable, hard to measure. Root bone, however, is set at birth. Back in the day, when old boxing masters talked about "strange bones," this is what they meant.
There are three classes of root bone: Low, Intermediate, Top.
Every newborn in Da Xia gets one free root bone test at one month old. Most people turn out to have low class root bone.
Low class root bone means average Martial Arts potential—nothing special.
But that's almost everyone.
Da Xia built its nation on martial strength, valuing Martial Arts education.
But with limited resources, preference goes to those with better root bone. Intermediate root bone means, from age six, getting twelve years of compulsory national Martial Arts knowledge and education, all tuition waived. Old lady Zhang's grandson attended the affiliated grade school and middle school of Pingjiang Martial Arts University—just graduate step by step, and he'll enter the university, with a bright future ahead.
Top class root bone, nothing more needs to be said.
Such people are one in ten thousand. At birth, they're already pre-enrolled at one of Da Xia's top 24 Martial Arts Universities. Even Lu Chenzhou's dream school, Pingjiang Martial Arts University, wasn't eligible to recruit them.
With low class root bone, you're on your own.
And so, sometimes Li Xianghua feels sorry for Chenzhou.
The kid works so hard, but she can't provide much for his Martial Arts Training.
...
Cramped but tidy bedroom.
The walls were plastered with animated posters, all of a single man: sometimes standing atop Cang Mountain, inhaling and exhaling clouds; sometimes riding a whale on the endless sea.
When rising, like a hidden dragon ascending to the heavens; when falling, like thunder striking the earth!
This was the winner of the "World's Number One" title at the last Foreign Martial Arts Competition—Cangtian Dragon King·Li Ang, the record-breaking genius who shattered the Seven Physical Limits faster than anyone in history, idolized by countless Martial Artists and even top Martial Artists.
Admiring the strong is human nature.
On the floor stood a wooden training dummy.
This was what Lu Chenzhou usually practiced punches on.
Not having access to compulsory Martial Arts education hadn't stopped his steps toward Martial Arts. In the information era, most basic Martial Arts can be found on the Martial Arts Association's official website as free instructional videos—including the Black Tiger Fist he was learning.
But just relying on videos for self-study, getting started is hard.
Practicing Martial Arts isn't like a novel—you can't just get a secret manual and have it made. A coach is actually important, which is why he spent the money on lessons.
But he had kept his guard up. He noticed that Feite Martial Arts Hall's business had been bad, looked like they might go bankrupt and run off, so he didn't buy more sessions. 300 yuan per lesson isn't that expensive—normal personal trainers charge two or three hundred—but he had no money.
He'd scrimped and saved and done part-time jobs to scrape that together.
He also didn't want his parents to spend extra. He knew his mom always wanted to move to an apartment in Su City's Inner City district. The environment was better, closer to Pingjiang Martial Arts University, lots of Martial Artists lived there, and if a Virtual Disaster ever hit again, it'd be safer.
Logging onto the Martial Arts Association's website, Lu Chenzhou opened the Black Tiger Fist instructional video. On screen, an old man in black training clothes began his introduction:
"Black Tiger Fist belongs to the Elephant Form lineage—its fist style is fierce and powerful; to practice it, you must combine fist technique, leg technique, and movement technique! If you only punch but don't train your legs, you'll die an early death like a fool…"
Recalling the coach's previous pointers, Lu Chenzhou began practicing.
He set his phone to record video and placed it on the desk.
In the cramped room, he practiced every move, and although there were some slight differences from the video, his form was solid. After one round, sweat was streaming down his face.
Lu Chenzhou wiped his sweat and played back the recorded video, examining it closely.
"That three thousand yuan wasn't wasted, I should be almost at the beginner level by now.
This round felt noticeably smoother, and my form was decent. As the saying goes: 'Practice a move ten thousand times and the true principle reveals itself!' The ancients were right after all.
Even if my root bone isn't great, as long as I keep working hard—training through the winter chill and summer heat—maybe there'll really be a day I break through the First Shackles and become a Martial Artist."
Lu Chenzhou rested a moment and kept practicing.
Unconsciously, it was already night.
He went through five more rounds of punches, each time smoother.
Afterward, his whole body felt wonderful.
But by now, his stamina was at the very limit.
Suddenly, a gurgling sound of water came from inside his head.
He also felt a bit woozy.
"Did I train too hard?"
His first thought was he'd overdone it and his blood sugar dropped, so he quickly ate a fun-size Snickers for a quick sugar fix. Soon, the lightheadedness faded, and before his eyes, a translucent, mysterious seed floated in the void, absorbing drop after drop of "rainwater" dripping down, carrying a salty, wet scent, being quickly absorbed.
The seed sprouted, and as if fast-forwarded, grew into a lush, three-foot-tall sapling. A green branch unfurled from the base of the trunk, with two green leaves at its tip.
Lu Chenzhou focused his mind and looked at it.
[Martial Art]
[Basic Boxing: Small Success (100%)]
[Black Tiger Fist: Beginner (1%)]
Lu Chenzhou picked up his phone and checked the time.
"October 1, 2220. Tuesday."
...
(ps: The setting of this book is a modern high-martial world. The story is pure fiction—do not compare this book's timeline or historical setting with the real world!)
Author's note:
Hello, everyone! Long time no see, I missed you!
Old Tian is back to writing again—this time it's a Martial Arts leveling novel.
Once it's released, I'll do my best to hit 10,000 words a day!
Finally, let me recommend a fantasy leveling novel by a friend of mine.
It's already fully finished: 5.5 million words—no worries about waiting for chapters.
Wizard: Grinding Experience Starting with the Knight's Breathing Method
————July 29, 2024, Tian Li