The Zhao Family's Talk and the Weight of the Future

Over the next ten-odd minutes, they casually chatted about school life, the academic pressure of third year of senior high, and their target universities for the Gaokao. Zhao Zhiyou and his wife were refined in both speech and manner. They showed an elder's concern for a younger person without prying too much into his privacy or using their status to pressure him, which made Chen Mo feel quite comfortable. Wang Hui occasionally asked about his meals and daily life in a warm tone, as though caring for one of her own juniors. Zhao Zhiyou, meanwhile, was more interested in his studies and training plans, occasionally offering one or two pertinent pieces of advice, every word reflecting his life experience.

Seeing that the wall clock had already pointed to nine, Chen Mo knew he could not impose any longer. He hurriedly stood to take his leave. "Uncle, Auntie, it's getting late. I should head home before my parents worry. Thank you very much for having me today, and thank you too, Brother Peng, for keeping me company."

"You're leaving already?" Wang Hui seemed reluctant to see him go. "Won't you stay a little longer? Xiaopeng, see Chen Mo off."

"No need to trouble Brother Peng, Auntie. I rode my bike here, so getting back is easy." Chen Mo quickly waved his hands in refusal.

But Zhao Zhiyou said, "It's late. The streets in the city aren't very safe at night, and cycling isn't convenient either. Xiao Liu, come and give Chen Mo a ride." His voice was not loud, yet it carried unquestionable authority.

As soon as he finished speaking, a man around thirty appeared at the door. He wore a neat black uniform, with a lean, capable build, an upright posture, and sharp eyes. At a glance, he was clearly no ordinary driver. He was most likely a Martial Artist as well, and not a weak one at that. He was the Zhao Family's driver and bodyguard, Master Xiao Liu.

"Yes, Manager Zhao." Master Xiao Liu answered respectfully, then looked at Chen Mo. "Mr. Chen, please come with me."

Seeing this, Chen Mo knew he could not refuse, so he could only thank Zhao Zhiyou and his wife once more. "Then I'll have to trouble you, Uncle and Auntie. And thank you too, Master Xiao Liu."

"Why be so polite? It's nothing." Wang Hui smiled and waved her hand. "Come over and visit whenever you have time. Xiaopeng needs more friends like you to keep him in line."

Zhao Peng walked Chen Mo to the door and patted him on the shoulder. "Brother Mo, be careful on the way back. See you at school! Come play games again when you have time—we can party up and run dungeons!"

"Sure, definitely." Chen Mo nodded and followed Master Xiao Liu out of the villa.

The black luxury sedan smoothly drove away from the Guanlan Villa Area, while Zhao Peng's family of three returned to the living room. Mama Wu had already cleared the coffee table and brought over freshly brewed tea.

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"This Chen Mo doesn't look like an ordinary high school student." Wang Hui lifted her teacup and took a small sip, her tone carrying a trace of approval. "His gaze is steady, and he knows his limits when he speaks. He's neither servile nor arrogant. He doesn't have the inferiority common among children from poor families, nor does he have that impetuous eagerness for quick success. Xiaopeng, your eye for making friends has truly improved this time."

Zhao Peng chuckled smugly and sat down beside his father. "Of course! Mom, let me tell you—Brother Mo is a blue-chip prospect among blue-chip prospects! He may not look like much now, but one day he'll absolutely soar into the skies!"

Zhao Zhiyou picked up his teacup and blew away the foam on top before asking casually, "Oh? A blue-chip prospect? In what way? Just because he's improved quickly recently?" In his view, a teenager's sudden burst of progress was nothing unusual. The path of Martial Arts was long; only those who could persevere and go far possessed real ability.

Zhao Peng immediately perked up. Leaning forward, he began analyzing earnestly. "Dad, you have no idea what he was like before! A little over a month ago, Brother Mo was a total bottom-feeder in class. His Cultural Class grades were at the bottom, his Qi and Blood was only a little over fifty points, and both his stance training and fist techniques were at the beginner level. Anyone could pick on him. But over this past month, it's like he turned on cheat codes! His Cultural Class Mock Exam results shot straight up to the upper-middle ranks of the class, improving by more than twenty places. His Martial Arts Qi and Blood rose from just over fifty to over seventy; the precise reading we took just now was 75.23 points. And that's not all—both his Black Tiger Stance and Body Tempering Fist have broken through to the late stage of Minor Accomplishment, with their proficiency more than halfway filled. He's practically about to charge into the Proficient level! It's only been a little over a month! At this rate of improvement, you couldn't find a second person like him in all of Sixth Middle School!"

"His rate of improvement is indeed not slow. Interesting." Zhao Zhiyou nodded slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes, though he was not overly shocked. He had seen plenty of geniuses in his life. Some youths truly did experience explosive growth at certain stages; it was hardly rare.

"The key isn't that he's fast—it's that he's steady!" Zhao Peng stressed, afraid that his father would not take it seriously. "You saw it just now. He received so many benefits from our family—he used an advanced testing device, ate spiritual-energy ingredients, and even tried the latest gaming pod—yet he didn't get spoiled or arrogant at all. He remained measured in both word and deed, and he knows how to be grateful. And his work ethic? I genuinely admire it! This afternoon in the training room, I was exhausted after practicing for just over two hours, like a dead dog. My legs were numb, and my Qi and Blood was nearly depleted. But he could actually calm himself down and keep training without even changing expression! He wasn't forcing himself—he really has that kind of stamina and resolve! If it were me, I'd have quit long ago!"

Zhao Zhiyou's hand holding the teacup paused, and his gaze behind his lenses grew more serious. "What potential rating did the machine give him?"

"B+, above average." Zhao Peng curled his lip, looking unconvinced. "That broken machine is only good as a reference! It builds its analysis from data like one's current Qi and Blood baseline and years of training. Brother Mo only just started, and his foundation is weak, so naturally his data doesn't look good. But I'd stake my word on it—judging by his rate of progress, temperament, and perseverance, his true potential has definitely been underestimated! At the very least, he's A-, and he might even reach the A tier! If this keeps up, he'll definitely break into the top ranks of the grade before the Gaokao. He might even... reach the edge of Song Yunliang's level. It's not impossible!"

Song Yunliang was Sixth Middle School's publicly acknowledged number-one Martial Arts genius. His Qi and Blood had already broken through 95 points, and his stance training had even reached the Major Accomplishment level. He was widely recognized as a future Martial Artist prospect and was sought after by all the major Martial Arts academies. The fact that Zhao Peng dared compare Chen Mo to him was enough to show just how highly he regarded Chen Mo.

Zhao Zhiyou fell silent for a moment, his fingers lightly tapping the sofa armrest with soft "tap, tap" sounds. He had not been fully convinced by his son's words. Investing in a high school student who had yet to truly distinguish himself carried no small risk. The path of Martial Arts was full of uncertainties. Temperament, opportunity, resources, aptitude, and luck—none could be lacking. What Chen Mo had displayed so far was mostly astonishing perseverance and a stage of rapid progress, but what his "aptitude" was truly like, whether he could withstand the subsequent high-intensity training, and whether he could maintain his advantage in future competition were all still unknown.

Yet he did not directly reject his son's judgment either. Zhao Peng had grown up. He was no longer a child who needed protection in every matter. He needed to learn to judge people, learn to invest, and learn to bear risks himself. That in itself was an important kind of growth. Besides, Zhao Zhiyou was actually pleased that his son possessed such business sense and ability to judge character.

"Investment is possible." Zhao Zhiyou spoke slowly, his tone calm yet decisive. "But we need to carefully consider the method."

Zhao Peng's eyes lit up. "Dad, you agree?"