That night, the light in Chen Mo's room stayed on until one in the morning.
Outside, the night was so thick it seemed impossible to disperse. Clouds veiled most of the moonlight, and only a few faint rays slipped through a gap in the curtains, falling across the open books and pages of notes covered in handwriting. He wasn't cramming at the last minute. He was conducting an unprecedented "Skill Experiment."
For geography, he studied contour maps and climate distributions; for history, the rise and fall of dynasties and the evolution of economic systems; for politics, dialectical materialism and the principles of international relations... For each subject, he spent five minutes quickly scanning the chapter outline, then settled down to study the core material word by word. After focusing for twenty to thirty minutes, he immediately closed his eyes and summoned the System Panel that only he could see, holding his breath as he watched his Proficiency increase.
A pattern gradually emerged.
For knowledge and skills at the "Basic" level, when he was highly focused and understood the material effectively, his Proficiency reliably increased by one point every twenty to thirty minutes on average. It was like pouring water into an empty bucket: every drop left a trace. If he merely flipped through the book absentmindedly, his eyes wandering over the lines, or if he came across something difficult that required repeated thought—such as how cyclones and anticyclones formed in geography, or the deeper differences between the Self-Strengthening Movement and the Hundred Days' Reform in history—then it could take forty minutes or even longer. Sometimes, even after an hour, the Proficiency Panel wouldn't budge. But once he cracked a tough problem and the system recorded the moment he "learned" it, that knowledge seemed branded deep in his mind. When he recalled it later, the concepts were clear and the logic complete, as firmly ingrained as an instinct he'd had all his life.
"This efficiency... It's practically tailor-made for the final push of senior year!" Chen Mo gripped his pen, his knuckles whitening slightly, his excitement threatening to burst from his chest. This meant that, with good time management and enough concentration, two hundred and fifty days would be more than enough to take any "Basic" subject from the introductory level to Proficient—and perhaps even higher!
Of course, he hadn't forgotten about Martial Arts, the other path he was pursuing.
Carefully, he moved the desk and chairs into a corner, clearing a small space in the middle of the room. Chen Mo took a deep breath, spread his feet shoulder-width apart, bent his knees slightly, straightened his back, and assumed the standard Black Tiger Stance. He steadied his mind and, following the method he remembered, guided the faint but unmistakably real Qi and Blood within him as it slowly circulated through his limbs and body.
At first, his movements were a little stiff. When his Qi and Blood reached his wrists, the flow faltered. He adjusted his breathing slightly and focused on sensing the course of the warmth. Gradually, his body heated up. It was as if every pore had opened, and wisps of heat seeped from his skin. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, slid down his temples, and dripped onto his collar, spreading into a small, dark patch.
Half an hour later, Chen Mo released the stance and let out a long breath of Turbid Qi. His muscles and bones were pleasantly sore, as if they'd all loosened up. Eagerly, he opened the System Panel, and a clear line of text appeared before him:
[Black Tiger Stance Lv.2 (189/200)]
Sure enough, it had gone up by one point!
"The path to being Skilled in Both Civil and Martial Arts is open!" Chen Mo nearly cheered. He swung a fist, stirring a breeze. His body felt heavy with the fatigue of staying up late, but his mind was unusually fired up, as if he'd downed the strongest liquor. The feeling of having every bit of effort quantified and rewarded was incredibly addictive. It was like playing an ultra-realistic role-playing game in real life: no flashy effects, no tedious quest prompts, just the most hardcore feedback for progress. The more he put in, the more he got out. His character was visibly getting stronger.
Only when his head began to droop, the words before his eyes blurred, and a powerful wave of drowsiness washed over him did Chen Mo force himself to stop. In his previous life, he'd been used to staying up late as an overworked office drone, but he knew better than anyone that enough rest was another essential piece of equipment for "efficient leveling." Bite off more than he could chew, and he might wreck his young body. It wouldn't be worth it.
He lay down in bed and closed his eyes. His mind no longer churned with the bewilderment and anxiety he'd felt at first after crossing over. Instead, he pictured a crystal-clear, carefully organized "Skill Upgrade Plan." He needed to memorize the required Ancient Poetry and Prose for Chinese first; tackle functions and geometry, his weakest math topics; break English vocabulary and grammar into small chunks to study during spare moments each day; and reinforce his knowledge of politics, history, and geography with Current Events News and atlases, instead of relying on rote memorization... As for Martial Arts, besides the regular classes at school, could he get up half an hour early and practice the Black Tiger Stance in the courtyard? On his way home from school, could he jog instead of ride his bike, building endurance while feeling the flow of his Qi and Blood?
As he thought it over, a pleased smile crept across his lips. At last, he succumbed to sleep.
At six the next morning, his Biological Clock woke him right on time.
There was none of the struggle between body and soul he'd felt getting up for work in his previous life, and not a trace of resentment. Chen Mo sprang upright almost on reflex. The sudden movement made his abdominal muscles pull sharply, and he nearly threw out his back. He grimaced and rubbed the spot, but couldn't help laughing. His muscles were still a little sore, as if someone had given him a thorough beating, but he felt incredibly refreshed. His mind was clear and bright, without a hint of fog.
After washing up quickly and changing into his School Uniform, he had just stepped out of his room when he caught the smell of porridge and fried eggs wafting from the kitchen. His mother, wearing an apron, was carrying a plate out. When she saw him, she smiled. "Up so early today? I thought you'd sleep in."
"Morning, Mom!" Chen Mo greeted her, glancing at the plain porridge and fried eggs on the table. Martial Arts practice and last night's intense studying had burned through a lot of energy, and he was ravenous.
"They just came out of the pan. Have some to tide you over." His mother pushed the plate toward him.
Chen Mo picked up a fried egg and took a bite. The hot yolk melted in his mouth, rich and savory. He polished it off in a few bites, grabbed his schoolbag, and dashed downstairs. "Mom, I'm heading out!"
"Hey, be careful on the way!" his mother called after him.
As soon as he reached the ground floor, he heard Zhang Shun's loud, boisterous voice. "Brother Mo! Over here!"
Zhang Shun had his schoolbag slung over one shoulder. He was pushing his bicycle with one hand and holding two bulging plastic bags in the other, standing on tiptoe as he waved. Once Chen Mo got closer, he saw the bags held steaming hot jianbing guozi. Golden, crispy crackers peeked out from the edges, and the aroma went straight to his nose.
"Two extra eggs—I didn't forget!" Zhang Shun handed one over with a grin. "I know you've been eating more lately."
"Thanks, bro!" Chen Mo took it and eagerly bit into it. The crispy cracker, tender egg, and rich Mianjiang blended together, especially tempting in the chilly morning air.
The two of them ate their jianbing guozi as they rode to school. The morning streets were still chilly. A watering truck had just passed, leaving the road wet and reflecting the signs of the shops along the roadside. Zhang Shun was still chattering away like a little loudspeaker. First, he complained about the useless teammate they'd gotten in a game the night before, who'd gone AFK at a crucial moment in the team fight and made them lose all night. Then he groaned about having a math quiz first period, which he said was practically the end of the world.
Chen Mo responded with the occasional "Mm," "Really?" and "What a pain," but he was listening—and his mind never stopped racing as he reviewed the geography knowledge the system had "cemented" in place the night before. From the causes of the East Asian Monsoon Climate to the distribution patterns of the Mediterranean Climate, each point played through his mind like a movie, as clear as if it were right in front of him.
Before you continue