Morning Light and Sweat 2

The girl at the desk in front, Zhang Yuxi, had become Chen Mo's "inspector" for humanities knowledge, as well as an occasional chat partner.

This girl, with her baby-fat face and eyes that curved into crescent moons when she smiled, was relatively strong in the humanities—especially history and politics—where her grades consistently ranked near the top of the grade. She had noticed recently that whenever she turned around to ask Chen Mo a question, the answers she got were not only accurate but also well-organized, logically tight, and sometimes supplemented with fringe knowledge from the textbooks or unique angles of understanding that felt refreshing.

During a break one day, Zhang Yuxi came over with a history test paper, pointed at an essay question, and asked with curiosity shining in her eyes: "Chen Mo, on this question about 'The Impact of the Psionic Tide on Modern International Relations,' how did you think to approach it from the angle of Martial Arts Resource Allocation? The textbook only mentions it in one sentence, and I had no idea where to start when I answered it."

Chen Mo took the paper and glanced at the question. In his past life, this would have been a classic geopolitical issue, just wrapped in the guise of this world's "Psionic Tide" and "Martial Arts Rise." He thought for a moment, drawing on some knowledge from his previous life and the characteristics of this world, and analyzed clearly: "The Psionic Tide spurred the prosperity of martial arts. The combat power of top-tier Martial Artists can even rival an elite military unit, making them a strategic resource that nations compete for. In the past, countries measured strength by the number of guns and industrial power; now, they might also compare the quantity and quality of high-rank martial artists. Those mineral veins and Secret Realms rich in psionic energy naturally become battlegrounds. Places with abundant resources develop martial arts faster, gain more say, and the competition and cooperation between nations shift accordingly."

He didn't go too deep, but this angle made Zhang Yuxi's eyes light up.

"Wow, that makes sense!" Zhang Yuxi exclaimed, slapping her forehead in realization. "Why didn't I think of that! I was just memorizing the textbook points and never considered this direction." She then blinked her sparkling eyes, leaned in closer, and studied Chen Mo with a probing look. "Chen Mo, how did your brain suddenly get so sharp? Is it really just a sudden awakening?"

Chen Mo felt a bit embarrassed under her gaze, rubbed his nose, and joked with a smile: "Maybe... it's from all that Standing Meditation, the Qi and blood rushing up and clearing the blockages."

"Pfft—" Zhang Yuxi couldn't help but laugh, her eyes crinkling. "Then you should do more of it, try to clear the blockages for math and physics too. Next exam, you might break into the top ten."

"Hope your words come true," Chen Mo laughed as well.

The atmosphere between them was relaxed and friendly. This kind of interaction, based on academic exchange, carried no hint of romance, but it added a bright splash of color to the monotonous grind of senior year.

The real focus of the class, however, remained the graceful figure sitting in the front center—Xu Yunjing.

She always seemed so composed, focused, and meticulous. In class, her back was always straight, her eyes fixed on the teacher, her notes neat and densely packed. During breaks, she either sat quietly reading and doing problems or discussed tough questions in low voices with a few equally excellent classmates. In Martial Arts Class, her movements were agile and sharp, her basic punches flowing like water, pleasing to the eye, and she was already showing signs of surpassing Lv.4 (Proficient) and nearing Lv.5 (Major Accomplishment).

She was the perfect role model in the teachers' mouths, the object of admiration for her classmates, the undisputed proud daughter of Class 7, Grade 12.

Can't find the book by title? Try searching by the author—maybe it just changed names!

Chen Mo still maintained a pure appreciation for her. Occasionally, his gaze would drift to the pale nape of her neck when she tied her hair in a ponytail, or her slightly furrowed brows when she was deep in thought, stirring a faint ripple of youthful emotion in his heart. But that ripple would quickly be swept away by the next unsolved math problem or the urgent need to increase his Qi and Blood sensing.

He knew very well that he was far from being able to afford distractions. Xu Yunjing was like a distant peak bathed in sunset glow—beautiful and unreachable—constantly reminding him that the road ahead was long, and he still had a great distance to climb.

The afternoon Martial Arts Class was an excellent window into the class's ecosystem and the social stratification of this world.

Instructor Xu's authoritative gaze swept across the room, his deep voice echoing through the Martial Arts Hall: "Everyone, after warming up, do Standing Meditation for twenty minutes, then practice the Body Tempering Fist! Today, we're adding 'Qi and Blood Sensing and Initial Guidance.' Take it seriously—this is the foundation for cultivating advanced techniques later!"

The students responded in unison, taking their positions on the special Soft Cushions, sweating profusely.

Chen Mo stood in the middle of the line, eyes closed, mind focused. With the continuous practice of the stance and the system's boost, he could clearly feel the warm mass in his Dantian slowly and steadily growing. On the system panel, the [Qi and Blood Value], representing his overall level, had risen steadily from the low fifties at the time of his transmigration to 71 points.

This had already firmly crossed the school's "passing line" (60 points), meaning he could at least get a score in the Martial Arts College Entrance Exam that wouldn't drag him down.

But passing was far from his goal.

His gaze involuntarily drifted to a few corners of the Martial Arts Hall.

There was the "top student and martial artist" clique led by class monitor Li Haoran. Li Haoran's Cultural Class grades were consistently in the top three of the grade, and his martial arts talent was outstanding. His Black Tiger Stance had long broken through to Lv.4 (Proficient), and his Qi and Blood Value was rumored to be close to 90 points. When he did Standing Meditation, his expression was focused, his posture straight as a pine, every subtle movement precise. Clearly, his affluent family background and his own hard work were propelling him steadily forward.

On the other side were a few boys whose clothes and accessories clearly surpassed those of ordinary students, with a hint of arrogance in their brows. They were the so-called "Martial Arts Second Generation" in the class, or wealthy second-generation kids from extremely well-off families.

The leader among them was a boy named Zhao Peng. He was tall, with clearly defined muscles—a clear result of long-term training. It was said his family ran a chain of martial arts gyms, and both his parents were registered Martial Artists, making them quite wealthy. The gloves and wrist guards he used during practice were all brand-name, with soft leather and fine craftsmanship, exuding a sense of luxury. Occasionally during breaks, he could be seen pulling out a small silver spray bottle, spritzing it near his mouth and nose, or taking a light blue nutritional capsule from an exquisite metal case.

"That's 'Calming Mist,' it helps stabilize the mind and improve the efficiency of sensing Qi and blood. A small bottle costs over a thousand bucks—enough to cover my meals for half a month," Zhang Shun had once whispered to Chen Mo during a break, pointing at Zhao Peng with a sour tone. "And that blue pill is a diluted version of the 'Basic Qi and Blood Pill.' It's not as effective as the real thing, but long-term use helps boost Qi and blood during the foundation-building stage. Tsk, people are just different. We exhaust ourselves doing Standing Meditation for half an hour and barely gain a few points of Qi and blood, while they pop a pill and it equals days of our effort."

Chen Mo listened quietly, watching Zhao Peng. According to underground rumors, Zhao Peng's Qi and Blood Value had likely already broken through 95 points, and he was sprinting toward the ordinary human limit (100 points), possibly even touching the threshold. When he practiced the Body Tempering Fist, his movements were fierce and powerful, his strength and speed clearly a cut above the average student. During sparring, almost no one wanted to be paired with him—no one wanted to be dominated.