The days after the High School Entrance Exam seemed to slow to a crawl.
The sky over Nanjiang City remained a brilliant blue, and with the exam over, life returned to normal. Students went to school, and workers went to work.
For Lin Ye, though, the tension that had wound tight for months had suddenly eased. The return to an ordinary life felt like a great blessing.
These days, he slept until he woke naturally. Sometimes he accompanied his mother, Wang Xiulan, to the market to buy groceries, listening to her chatter about neighborhood happenings. Sometimes he helped carry heavy things around the house. His father, Lin Jianguo, still left early and came home late, but the wrinkles on his face seemed to have eased, and he had more to say over dinner. Every now and then, he would ask Lin Ye about rumors concerning Martial Arts Universities, his eyes hiding a deep pride.
Though the scores hadn't come out yet, and Lin Ye hadn't told him his estimated results, his father seemed confident that his son would get into a Martial Arts University.
Aside from sleeping until he woke naturally, Lin Ye sometimes went to a paid virtual Martial Arts Hall and logged into the Martial Dao virtual platform. He used his own account to play a few matchmaking games. Rather than chasing a rank, he preferred experimenting with wild combinations of tactics and enjoying the pure fun of battle.
And so, he spent his days playing games, matching up against opponents, and browsing the news online, as if making up for all the ordinary life he'd missed before. The one thing that never changed was his daily, unwavering two-hour training session. Since school was out, he no longer trained in the school's Martial Arts Hall. Instead, every afternoon or evening, he practiced for two hours in the residential complex's public Martial Arts Hall. The facilities were run-down, but Lost Track Steps didn't require specialized equipment—just a fairly spacious area where he could repeatedly hop from side to side.
The results weren't as good as training in the Gravity Chamber, but that didn't stop his Lost Track Steps proficiency from slowly improving through day after day of practice. He also liked training without drawing attention.
While Lin Ye enjoyed his peaceful vacation,
at the Xinyuan Residential Complex, in Zheng Huai's home,
after taking care of the matters at hand, Zheng Huai fell silent for a moment, then called a number he hadn't contacted in a long time on his personal Communicator. After several rings, someone picked up. A slightly hoarse yet robust voice came through. "Old Zheng? Well, this is a surprise. What brings you calling me today? Let me guess—found a promising student and want to send him my way?"
Zheng Huai laughed and cursed at him. "Give it a rest. I know your Canglan has high standards, but this student of mine really is a little different."
Then Zheng Huai briefly introduced Lin Ye's circumstances: an ordinary family background, a late awakening, but an astonishing rate of progress and strong practical combat skills.
"As for his score, he should have no trouble getting into an ordinary Regional Martial University. But your Canglan Martial Arts University ranks among the top three. I was thinking that if the kid could get into your school, it'd be good for both him and you."
On the other end, Jiang He listened quietly, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desk. He received dozens, sometimes even hundreds, of recommendations like this every year. Teachers and coaches from schools across the country all hoped their favored students would earn the attention of top institutions, and naturally, they tended to exaggerate.
"Old Zheng..."
When Zheng Huai finished, Jiang He spoke slowly, his tone businesslike, with a hint of barely perceptible perfunctoriness. "This kid you're talking about does sound pretty good. He's progressing quickly, has a solid foundation, and a good temperament. He's a promising student. But you know how many special admissions applications and priority recommendations Canglan gets each year. We draw applicants from more than a dozen provinces across the country, and every year, one genius after another comes along. Just 'fast progress' and a 'high level in basic fist techniques' aren't enough. Without some other more substantial, distinguishing advantage or conclusive proof of top-tier talent, it's hard to stand out in the review process."
Zheng Huai frowned. He could hear the skepticism in his old comrade's words, but he also knew Jiang He held a high position. As deputy director of the Admissions and Talent Evaluation Office at Canglan Martial Arts University, he'd seen plenty. A so-called "genius" from some local school might seem merely "pretty good" to him—not enough to meet the bar for special admission.
"That kid, I really don't think he's as ordinary as you make it sound."
Zheng Huai insisted.
"You think..."
Jiang He shook his head slightly as he listened. After a moment's thought, he said, "Old Zheng, I trust your judgment. Here's what we'll do. Send me his information, especially his exam registration number. I'll use what you've just told me to put together a recommendation report and add him to this year's list of candidates under observation."
"Once admissions season begins, we'll assign an expert panel and apply to the Ministry of Education for the battle footage of every candidate on the observation list. Then we'll assess their potential. If the kid performs as you say and meets our threshold for special admission, I'll bring him up for discussion at the university affairs meeting as a candidate for exceptional special admission."
Considering his old comrade, this was the most formal and procedural commitment Jiang He could offer. Being added to Canglan Martial Arts University's list of candidates under observation might not sound like much, but it meant Lin Ye would have a chance to be "seen." That alone was quite valuable.
Still, it was only a chance. Whether Lin Ye would ultimately be granted special admission depended on his performance in battle and whether he could impress Canglan's notoriously discerning evaluation experts.
"Okay. Thanks."
Zheng Huai nodded at that. He knew this was the best his old comrade could do for now. He also understood the rules at top Martial Arts Universities; most of them worked this way.
Whether Canglan Martial Arts University would ultimately pick Lin Ye would depend on Lin Ye's own fortune.
"No need to thank me. By the way, how are you doing now?"
"Are you comfortable staying in a place like Nanjiang?"
Jiang He asked casually.
"Pretty good. It's quiet."
Zheng Huai changed the subject. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then ended the call.
But apart from the attention Lin Ye had gained from Canglan Martial Arts University thanks to Zheng Huai's recommendation, another Regional Martial University had also taken notice of him.
Inside a quiet office at Wind-Thunder Martial Arts University, ranked seventh,
a young instructor sat watching a High School Entrance Exam Ranking Tournament recording on loop on his Smart Terminal.
The footage was paused on Lin Ye's fifth-round match against a thin contestant—the first round in which Lin Ye had revealed his Mountain-Suppressing Fist in an official match.
The young instructor, Zhou Ting, taught at Wind-Thunder Martial Arts University's Martial Arts Academy. That day, following the academy's assignment, he had attended the event as a guest in the spectator stands provided by Qingjiang Province.
As luck would have it, he had seen Lin Ye's match and sensed that Lin Ye's fist technique seemed a little different from ordinary Rolling Stone Fist.
He had already formed a vague suspicion at the time, but since he hadn't faced Lin Ye himself, the cautious instructor had chosen to apply for a copy of the footage and review it when he had time.
After repeatedly watching Lin Ye's exertion of force with the Mountain-Suppressing Fist, along with the thin contestant's reaction to it, Zhou Ting's suspicion was confirmed.
"...The rudiments of Momentum."
Watching the recording, he murmured under his breath.
Rolling Stone Fist was a low-tier fist technique, but the punch Lin Ye had thrown was as weighty as a mountain. It faintly carried the rudiments of "Momentum."
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