After a few rounds of drinks—which, in this case, meant juice—Zhao Peng grew more talkative and started sharing his worries. He set down his glass, his voice unusually subdued. "It's a shame. My talent doesn't really justify all the resources my parents have poured into me. My Qi and Blood have been increasing quickly, but it's all 'hollow.' When I exert myself, I can never get my Qi and Blood to respond as well as they should. My overall reserves are higher than a lot of people's, but when it comes to actual sparring, I'm always just a little short. I can never get the better of Li Haoran, and forget Xu Yunjing or Song Yunliang—they're monsters. I can't beat them at all."
Seeing the disappointment on his face, Chen Mo understood. Zhao Peng's problem was common among Martial Artists who relied on resources: they had a solid foundation of Qi and Blood, but lacked control over it and had yet to master the techniques for unleashing it. As a result, their combat abilities couldn't keep up with their Qi and Blood levels. Chen Mo considered his words before offering reassurance. "Brother Peng, you're being too modest. Your foundation is stronger than that of most people our age, and that's already a huge advantage. As for your techniques, maybe you just need to study them more, or find a dedicated instructor to give you some pointers. Sometimes all it takes is breaking through one thin barrier. And I've noticed that you have a real eye for business and people. When you take over your uncle's business one day, I'm sure you'll make it even bigger."
His words struck a chord with Zhao Peng. His eyes lit up, and he perked right up, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "Brother Mo, you really figured that out? To be honest, I'm interested in martial arts, but I know I'm not cut out to be one of the best. Compared to a born Martial Arts prodigy like Xu Yunjing, I'm nowhere close. My dad sees it that way too. He says protecting and growing the family business is more useful than simply becoming a fighter. Honestly, I just like figuring out how to sell things, how to get people to come to my Pengcheng Martial Arts gym, and how to deal with people... Hey, I think that's pretty interesting too. A lot more fun than Standing Meditation and punching."
Chen Mo understood. Zhao Peng might seem like a blunt, straightforward guy, but he had a clear plan for his future. He'd made friends with Chen Mo not only because they got along and he admired how quickly Chen Mo was improving, but perhaps also because he saw him as a promising investment. A classmate from an ordinary background who was making rapid progress, level-headed, and grateful could become a valuable ally—or even a business partner—in the future.
Chen Mo didn't mind that their friendship had a practical side. In the adult world, pure friendship was precious, but relationships founded on mutual benefit and admiration were often more stable and lasting. He had nothing to his name and sorely needed opportunities and resources. Zhao Peng was willing to reach out to him early, and Chen Mo couldn't have been more grateful.
"Brother Peng, with that kind of vision, you'll definitely go further than those of us who only know how to keep our heads down and train." Chen Mo raised his glass, his voice sincere. "Honestly, I've made the progress I have by figuring things out on my own. I've still got a long road ahead. If I ever make something of myself, I won't forget how you looked out for me today. I'll remember this."
"Hey! What are you saying? No need to be so formal!" Zhao Peng quickly raised his glass too and gently clinked it against Chen Mo's. Their glasses rang out clearly. The gloom vanished from his face, and his smile turned bright again. "I, Zhao Peng, never misjudge people! I believe in you, Brother Mo! For real! We're friends, so we'll look out for each other from now on. If you ever need help, just ask! And hey, you're always welcome to come over, get your Qi and Blood measured, and grab some beef. I'll tell Mama Wu to save you some Crimson Ridge Savage Beef!"
Seeing the sincerity in Zhao Peng's eyes, Chen Mo felt a warm glow in his chest. After spending the day together, their relationship had gone from ordinary classmates to genuine friends.
Outside, the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Its light streamed through the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching their shadows long across the room. Steam still rose from the dishes on the table, and the air was filled with the aroma of food and the faint sweetness of juice. The atmosphere was warm and lively.
That Saturday, Chen Mo had not only gotten an accurate reading of his Qi and Blood and confirmed his progress, but also gained a precious friendship. Watching Zhao Peng chat animatedly beside him, he thought to himself, Maybe this second chance at youth isn't just about training and the Gaokao. There are unexpected moments of warmth and bonds like this, too.
Once they'd eaten their fill, Zhao Peng patted his round belly and let out a satisfied burp. "That hit the spot! Brother Mo, now that we've eaten, how about we head to the training room and get some exercise? We can work off the meal, and you can try my family's equipment. It's way better than the school's!"
"Sure." Chen Mo had been thinking the same thing. After that energy-rich meal, the Qi and Blood in his Dantian were stirring, making it an ideal time to train. He was also curious about the professional equipment at Zhao Peng's house.
The two returned to the training room on the second floor. The setting sun poured through its high windows, gilding the cold metal equipment in warm gold and softening the room's otherwise high-tech feel.
"Go ahead, pick anything!" Zhao Peng spread his arms, inviting Chen Mo to choose. "You can try everything except the machines in the back. Those are for my parents. They're equipment only Martial Artists can handle—the Gravity Training Pod and the Qi and Blood Impact Device. At our level, using them would just make us suffer. We might even injure our meridians."
Chen Mo followed his gesture and looked toward the innermost part of the training room. Two particularly heavy-looking machines stood against the wall. One was a sealed metal pod labeled "Gravity Adjustment Range: 1.2–3.0G." The other had numerous tubes running into it. It looked like medical equipment, but gave off a sharp, imposing air. Chen Mo was secretly amazed. Martial Artists' training equipment really was beyond anything he could handle at his current level.
Turning his attention back to the equipment in the middle of the room, Chen Mo walked over to the Intelligent Treadmill. Unlike the ordinary treadmills at school, which only allowed users to adjust speed and incline, this one had a wider belt with an anti-slip surface. Its control panel also listed features like "Qi and Blood Consumption Monitoring" and "Stride Optimization Guidance."
"This treadmill's pretty neat. It adjusts the resistance based on your Qi and Blood Fluctuation, and it can even guide your breathing so your Qi and Blood don't get thrown out of rhythm." Zhao Peng came over to explain. "I use it for my morning runs. It works way better than running outside."
Chen Mo nodded, stepped onto the treadmill, and pressed the start button. The belt began turning slowly, then gradually picked up speed. Just as Zhao Peng had said, Chen Mo could feel the resistance subtly adjusting with his stride. A gentle electronic voice came from beside him: "Your breathing rate is slightly elevated. Try inhaling for three steps and exhaling for three steps to keep your Qi and Blood steady..."
He followed the instructions and adjusted his breathing. Sure enough, his Qi and Blood flowed more smoothly as he ran, and the tightness in his chest that usually came with running eased. But after ten minutes or so, Chen Mo began to feel that something wasn't quite right. The treadmill was certainly advanced, but it was better suited to general fitness training. It wouldn't do much for what he needed most at this stage: refining his Qi and Blood, improving his Standing Meditation and boxing, and becoming more proficient in both. What he lacked most wasn't endurance, but control over his Qi and Blood and practice honing his techniques.
"This is definitely a nice machine, but it might not be what I need right now." Chen Mo stopped the treadmill and wiped the light sheen of sweat from his forehead.
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