Chen Mo opened the System Panel and looked at the steadily rising stats: Black Tiger Stance proficiency, 76/300; Body Tempering Fist proficiency, 56/300; Qi and Blood Value, 74. He was also close to becoming Proficient. He could clearly feel the increasingly vigorous warmth of Qi and Blood flowing through his body, constantly battering against an invisible barrier. The chance to break his limits seemed to be beckoning from just ahead. As for his Cultural Classes, as long as he kept up his current performance, getting into a top-tier university wasn't impossible either. At a time like this, slowing down just to save money on medicine? That would be no different from ruining his own future, letting his parents down, and wasting his second chance at life.
He thought of Zhao Peng. That boy was always dressed in a branded Martial Arts Uniform and could casually pull out a Basic Qi and Blood Pill to take between classes. He had probably never had to worry about such a basic "recharging" problem. Zhao Peng's father was a well-known entrepreneur in Huihe City, and his family had plenty of money. All kinds of cultivation resources flowed to him without end. Their resources were enough to let them charge ahead faster and with fewer bottlenecks. That was the unfair reality—and the predicament that low-income Martial Arts students had to face.
"Two paths." Chen Mo picked up his pen and wrote two words heavily in his notebook: "Breakthrough" and "Make Money."
If he could break through the 100-point Qi and Blood threshold before the Gaokao—or even sooner—and become a registered First-Rank Martial Artist, everything would change. Becoming a Martial Artist would not only raise his social status and help him and his family escape their difficult circumstances; it would also qualify him to apply for the government's "Special Martial Arts Student Subsidy," which provided several thousand yuan a month. He would be able to buy genuine cultivation resources at discounted prices and might even catch the eye of a Martial Arts Association or a company, earning full sponsorship so he could focus on preparing for the Gaokao and continuing his Martial Arts training.
If he couldn't break through, or couldn't do it fast enough, he would have to find a steady source of income alongside his training. Writing novels was the most practical "Plan B" he could think of right now. In his previous life, he'd been a devoted reader, having read hundreds, if not thousands, of online novels. He knew all the popular genres and tropes. The online fiction industry in this world was also thriving, but many genres were still untapped. In particular, the story he had in mind, Black Tower Prologue, combined Martial Arts, the mysterious, and Sequence Role-playing. It would probably attract readers. He had to start writing and publishing the outline and opening he'd conceived last night as soon as possible. Even if the initial earnings were meager—just a few hundred yuan—he had to stick with it and try to build a steady income as soon as possible to cover his training expenses.
Chen Mo carefully slipped his bank card into his wallet, then took the white medicine box out of his schoolbag. Only one Qi and Blood Capsule remained inside. The deep blue capsule shimmered faintly in the light, like a concentrated hope—and a glaring warning, constantly reminding him how little time he had and how precious his resources were.
Without the slightest hesitation, he tilted his head back and swallowed the second capsule with some warm water from his thermos.
The familiar warmth rose from his lower abdomen again and slowly spread throughout his body, driving away his fatigue and some of the anxiety in his heart. His mind also grew clearer, and the irritability brought on by his recent dip in condition vanished in an instant.
At the same time, an even stronger sense of urgency and fighting spirit kindled in his chest.
He couldn't stop. He couldn't slow down. He had to build proficiency faster, break his limits sooner, and work harder on his story.
After evening study ended, Chen Mo didn't head straight home as usual. Instead, he went to an internet café near the school. He rented a private booth for an hour, turned on the computer, and logged into the world's largest online literature platform, Tomato Chinese Network. By coincidence, the platform had the same name as the one in his previous life, and the interface looked somewhat familiar, giving him a faint sense of comfort.
Registering as an author was simple. He filled in his basic information and completed real-name verification, and his account was approved soon afterward. He thought for a moment about his pen name, then chose "Ink Guarding Original Intention." "Ink" came from his own name, while "Guarding Original Intention" was a reminder to himself: no matter how many difficulties lay ahead, he couldn't forget why he'd begun, let down his parents, or waste his second chance at life.
When creating a new book, he carefully typed the title into the field: Black Tower Prologue: The Puppeteer's Path. Then he weighed his words as he wrote the synopsis: "This is an era in which Martial Arts flourish, where fists can shatter mountains and rivers and Qi can soar to the heavens. It is also a world where the mysterious has never been far away, where ancient ruins conceal secrets and uncanny knowledge drifts through the shadows. When Lin Yan opens the indestructible Black Notebook, he chooses a path utterly unlike mainstream Martial Arts—a path of role-playing, filled with the unknown and danger. Sequences, puppets, the Source Castle, divinity... Every step teeters on the brink of madness. At the end of the Sequence lies supreme power—or the madness of sinking into the abyss?"
After finishing the synopsis, Chen Mo opened the document and carefully revised the eight-thousand-character draft he'd pieced together last night and during breaks and lunch today. He checked for typos and punctuation errors and adjusted the pacing, sharpening the opening's suspense and making the protagonist's personality more distinct. Then he divided the eight thousand characters into three chapters, titled The Black Notebook, Sequence Nine: Puppeteer Apprentice, and First Role-playing, and uploaded them one by one.
The moment he clicked "Publish," a green notification popped up on the screen: "Published successfully." Chen Mo looked at the screen and let out a quiet breath.
Martial Arts training was the main front, tied to his future and his family's fate. He couldn't afford to fail.
Writing novels was the logistical front, essential to securing enough resources to support his training. He had to make it work.
The dwindling balance on his bank card hung over him like a countdown, driving him to fight on two fronts with greater perseverance and efficiency than anyone else, and carve a path to victory through this thorny road to a better life.
Outside the window, night deepened and the city's neon lights flickered on one by one, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the internet café's glass. In the booth, the desk lamp's light fell on the screen, and the boy sat with his back still straight. An open math test lay on the desk in front of him, already covered in calculations. On the screen, the page for Black Tower Prologue: The Puppeteer's Path sat quietly, its first chapter still showing only one view. Inside him, the medicinal power of the second Qi and Blood Capsule was slowly dissolving, nourishing his meridians and Qi and Blood.
Three kinds of pressure—and three sources of motivation.
There wouldn't be a moment of ease on this road to turning his life around. But Chen Mo's eyes held no fear, only resolve and determination. He knew he had no way back. He could only press forward.
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