The Grind Emperor's Dawn

That night, the light in Chen Mo's room burned until one in the morning.

The night outside was thick and unyielding. Moonlight was mostly obscured by clouds, with only a few faint rays piercing through the gaps in the curtains, falling onto the open books and draft paper covered in writing. He wasn't cramming for exams; he was conducting an unprecedented "skill experiment."

Interpreting topographic lines in geography, climate zone distribution, the rise and fall of historical dynasties, the evolution of economic systems, dialectical materialism in politics, international relations principles... For each subject, he would first spend five minutes quickly scanning the chapter outlines, then immerse himself in studying the core knowledge points word by word. After twenty to thirty minutes of focused learning, he would immediately close his eyes and bring up the system panel, visible only to him, in his mind. Holding his breath, he would observe the changes in proficiency.

The patterns gradually became clear.

For "basic" level knowledge and skills, under conditions of high concentration and effective understanding, proficiency would steadily increase by 1 point every 20-30 minutes on average. It was like pouring water into an empty bucket; every drop could be accounted for. If he merely flipped through the pages carelessly, his gaze drifting between the lines, or encountered difficult points that required repeated pondering—like the cyclone anticyclone formation mechanism in geography, or the deep differences between the Self-Strengthening Movement and the Hundred Days' Reform in history—the time would extend to forty minutes or even longer. Sometimes, even after an hour, the proficiency panel wouldn't budge. But once he conquered a tough challenge, the moment of "learning" was recorded by the system. This knowledge would then be seared into the depths of his mind, and when recalled, the concepts would be clear, the logical chains complete, as firm as if engraved for a lifetime—instinctive.

"This efficiency... it's practically tailor-made for the final sprint in the third year of senior high!" Chen Mo clenched his pen, his knuckles turning slightly white. The excitement within him almost burst through his chest. This meant that as long as he planned his time well and maintained sufficient focus, over 250 days would be enough to elevate any "basic" level subject from novice to proficient, or even higher!

Of course, he hadn't forgotten the parallel path of martial arts.

Carefully moving the desk and chair to the corner, he cleared a small open space in the middle. Chen Mo took a deep breath, spread his feet shoulder-width apart, slightly bent his knees, straightened his back, and assumed the standard stance of the Black Tiger Stance. He calmed his mind and, following the methods in his memory, guided the faint but real Qi and Blood within him, circulating it slowly through his limbs and body.

It felt a bit stiff at first. The Qi and Blood flow hesitated when it reached his wrist. He adjusted his breathing slightly, sinking his mind to feel the direction of the warm current. Gradually, his body grew warm, his pores seemed to open, and wisps of heat seeped out from his skin. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, sliding down his temples and dripping onto his clothes, forming small dark stains.

Half an hour later, Chen Mo finished the stance, exhaling a long breath of turbid Qi. His muscles and bones felt a comfortable soreness. He eagerly brought up the system panel, and a clear line of text appeared:

[Black Tiger Stance Lv.2 (189/200)]

It had indeed increased by 1 point!

"The path to being skilled in both civil and martial arts is open!" Chen Mo almost cheered, then suddenly swung his fist, creating a gust of wind. Although his body felt heavy with the fatigue of staying up late, his spirit was exceptionally high, as if he had drunk the strongest wine. The feeling that every bit of effort could be quantified and affirmed was incredibly addictive. It was like playing a hyper-realistic, real-life role-playing game, without flashy special effects or tedious quest markers, but with the most hardcore growth feedback—you get what you put in. His character was visibly growing stronger.

Only when his head began to feel heavy and the text before his eyes blurred, with overwhelming drowsiness washing over him like a tide, did Chen Mo force himself to stop. In his previous life, he was accustomed to staying up late as an office drone, but he knew better than anyone that sufficient rest was also a core piece of equipment for "efficient leveling." Trying to do too much at once could lead to indigestion and ruin his young body, making the gains outweigh the losses.

Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes. What surged in his mind was no longer the confusion and anxiety of his early transmigration, but a crystal-clear, categorized "Skill Upgrade Plan." For Chinese, he needed to prioritize memorizing the essential ancient poetry and prose passages. For math, he would start by tackling the weak chapters on functions and geometry. For English, vocabulary and grammar would be broken down into daily fragmented time. For politics, history, and geography, he would reinforce memory by combining them with current events news and atlases, avoiding rote memorization... In terms of martial arts, besides the regular school curriculum, could he wake up half an hour earlier in the morning to practice the Black Tiger Stance again in the open space of the neighborhood? On the way home from school, could he replace cycling with jogging to train his endurance while also sensing the circulation of Qi and Blood?

As he thought, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curved into a knowing smile. He finally succumbed to sleep.

The next morning, at six o'clock, his biological clock woke him up precisely.

There was no soul-body struggle like when he woke up as an office drone in his previous life, nor any resentment. Chen Mo almost reflexively sat up—he moved too quickly, and the muscles in his abdomen strained, nearly causing a back injury. He grimaced and rubbed his waist, but couldn't help but laugh. Although his muscles were still sore, as if he had been thoroughly beaten, his spirit was incredibly full, his mind clear and bright, without any trace of fog.

After quickly washing up and changing into his school uniform, he stepped out of his room and smelled the aroma of congee and fried eggs wafting from the kitchen. His mother, wearing an apron, came out of the kitchen carrying a plate. Seeing him, she smiled and said, "You're up so early today? I thought you'd be sleeping in."

"Morning, Mom!" Chen Mo greeted her. His gaze fell on the white congee and fried egg on the dining table. Practicing martial arts and last night's high-intensity study had consumed a lot of energy, and he felt ravenously hungry.

"Just came out of the pan, eat something to fill your stomach," his mother pushed the plate towards him.

Chen Mo picked up a fried egg and took a bite. The hot yolk melted in his mouth, full of savory flavor. He finished it in a few bites, grabbed his schoolbag, and rushed downstairs, "Mom, I'm leaving!"

"Hey, be careful on the way!" His mother's voice came from behind him.

As soon as he got downstairs, he heard Zhang Shun's boisterous voice, "Brother Mo! Over here!"

Zhang Shun strode along with his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, pushing his bicycle with one hand while carrying two bulging plastic bags in the other. He was on tiptoe, waving at Chen Mo. As Chen Mo got closer, he could see clearly that the bags contained steaming hot Jianbing Guozi, with Golden Yellow Crispy Crackers peeking out from the edges, their aroma wafting straight into his nostrils.

"Two eggs, just like you wanted!" Zhang Shun handed one over, a grin splitting his face. "I know your appetite's been growing lately."

"Thanks, man!" Chen Mo took it and took an eager bite. The crisp Crispy Cracker, the soft egg, and the rich Mianjiang blended together, an especially tempting flavor in the cold morning air.

The two of them munched on their Jianbing Guozi as they cycled towards school. The morning streets were still a bit chilly. A sprinkler truck had just passed, leaving the road glistening and reflecting the signs of the shops lining the street. Zhang Shun was still like a little loudspeaker, chattering non-stop. One moment he was complaining about the unreliable teammates he'd encountered in a game last night, who had gone AFK at a crucial moment in a team fight, causing them to lose all night. The next, he was groaning about a pop quiz in the first-period math class today, which felt like a death sentence.

Chen Mo mumbled responses, "Mm," "Really?" "So unfair," but his ears weren't idle, and his mind was even busier. He was rapidly reviewing the geography knowledge points that had been "solidified" by the system last night. From the causes of the East Asian Monsoon Climate to the distribution patterns of the Mediterranean Climate, each knowledge point played like a movie in his mind, as clear as if it were right before his eyes.

If you find this book good, remember to add it to your bookshelf so you can find it again next time.