After winning several matches in a row, Shrek Academy had managed to preserve its reputation.
But it had only preserved the result of "winning."
As for the process, in the audience's eyes, it was practically an inspirational tale of a disabled man's struggle.
Han Yuchen's current image no longer had anything to do with being an "unparalleled genius."
He had become "that Sickly Child who still hasn't breathed his last" in everyone's eyes.
In every match, he was either coughing violently at the edge of the arena or barely hanging on under his teammates' protection. Every now and then, he would reveal one of those "flimsy" Tai Chi pushes and disgust his opponent into stepping off the stage.
Some cursed him for occupying a latrine without taking a shit.
Others admired his indomitable spirit despite his disability.
But Han Yuchen knew perfectly well that he was getting better and better at this act.
He was even becoming a little addicted to it.
The lights in the corridor outside the lounge were dim.
Han Yuchen had just finished today's "rehabilitation training"—which was really just eating two apples in the lounge—and was preparing to return to the dorms for some sleep.
Leng Yuebai was not by his side. Master had called her away to discuss tactics.
Alone, he supported himself against the wall, swaying every three steps and gasping every five.
An act required professionalism. He had to maintain his persona even when no one was around. What if there was a fly in the corner sent by Qian Renxue?
He had just turned a corner.
A wave of heat rushed toward him.
It was not a figure of speech. It was genuinely hot.
The moisture in the air seemed to evaporate instantly, and even breathing scorched his throat.
A tall