Winter Break

January 11th.

Early morning.

Dawn had just broken, the faint light struggling to tear through the heavy curtain of the winter night, smearing a thin layer of grayish white across the window frame.

Li Wen opened his eyes right on time.

The first semester of senior year had officially ended; today was the first day of winter break.

He didn't slack off just because of the holiday, rising before the alarm as usual, as if a precise biological clock had been etched into his body.

He stretched out of habit first, joints popping softly, shaking off the sluggishness left by sleep.

Then, his consciousness sank into his sea of awareness, and he deftly summoned the familiar virtual panel.

[Name: Li Wen]

[Age: 18]

[Realm: Unranked (Level 6.3)]

[Class: Scholar Lv3 (256→268/400)]

[Skill: Blade Arts (Beginner 24→27/100)]

[Technique: Fracture Edge Gold Sha Method (Minor Success 50→70/100)]

Though his physical level stubbornly remained at the 6.3 mark, Li Wen could clearly feel that, after the frantic, almost self-abusive cultivation of his foundational technique during the final exams over the past two days—

And the baptism of battle yesterday against the Green-Clad Man, a Virtual Human with Minor Success in Peak technique—his body's foundation was quietly solidifying, transforming.

Every tearing pain from pushing the technique to its limits was subtly tempering his muscle fibers, steadily driving his blood and qi activity toward the threshold of Level 6.4.

He could sense that thin barrier beginning to show signs of loosening.

Blade arts, technique, knowledge... everything was climbing methodically along that difficult yet unmistakably clear path.

Hope, like the growing light outside the window, was driving away the gloom pressing on his heart.

"Hah..." He let out a light breath, rubbed his slightly messy hair, threw off the covers, got out of bed, and opened the door.

In the living room, the familiar aroma of breakfast had already spread.

His father, Li Hong, was bustling between the kitchen and the dining table, his deliberately softened movements and suppressed breathing stabbing into Li Wen's heart like fine needles.

"Dad, you should rest more too."

Looking at those eyes that couldn't hide their exhaustion yet forced themselves to be spirited, Li Wen walked to the kitchen door. Words rolled in his throat a few times, but in the end, he swallowed all the worry and questions that followed, letting only a dry note of concern slip out.

Li Hong paused mid-motion, then turned around, forcing a smile onto his face and waving his hand dismissively:

"It's nothing! I'm just idle at home anyway, and I go to bed early."

His tone was light, as if the suppressed coughing from last night had been Li Wen's imagination.

"You go wash up first. Eat early so you can study early too. Don't slack off just because it's break. The Flying Star Class... that's a big deal."

"Mm." Li Wen gave his father a long, deep look, said nothing more, nodded, and walked silently toward the bathroom.

Cold water splashed onto his face, bringing a sharp, stimulating clarity.

Having lived together for eighteen years, he knew this man's character inside out. It was the typical stubborn middle-aged machismo, as immovable as a mountain.

Family-oriented, as if the sky itself should be borne alone on his shoulders—shoulders that were no longer so broad—whether he could bear it or not, never once thinking to share the burden with his wife or child.

Faced with a father so "foolish" yet so infinitely great, Li Wen knew that the only thing he could do now to effectively lighten the man's inner load was to study even more frantically, cultivate even more recklessly, and support his father's hopes with solid, tangible progress.

The more he showed anxiety and worry about his father's illness, the more Li Hong would blame himself, sinking into the painful spiral of "a useless father dragging down his son." So, no matter how bitter, he had to swallow it; no matter how worried, he had to pretend not to know.

After washing up, he returned to the living room. Father and son sat across from each other, sharing breakfast.

"Sharing" was a generous term—it was mostly Li Hong constantly pushing fried eggs, meat slices, and vegetables into Li Wen's bowl, while Li Wen silently accepted it all, wolfing down the food that carried both paternal love and the energy his body needed.

Every bite felt like swallowing a heavy weight of responsibility.

"By the way, Awen," Li Hong said during the meal, pausing his chopsticks mid-reach, his eyes carrying a cautious yet intense hope.

"You finished your finals the past two days... have any results come out yet? Any improvement?"

For parents, their child's academic achievements were always the heaviest stone hanging over their hearts.

Li Wen forcefully swallowed the last mouthful of food, his throat bobbing. "Even if you hadn't asked, I was planning to tell you in a couple of days."

He set down his bowl, a hint of a smile appearing on his face—a smile carrying strength and confidence. "The academic scores haven't been released yet, but the Martial Arts Assessment results came out yesterday."

"Big?" Li Hong's heart leaped into his throat, his chopsticks holding a piece of pickled vegetable frozen mid-air, his voice carrying a barely perceptible tension.

He knew better than anyone how difficult Li Wen's path of study was. Now, with their family suddenly struck by misfortune, he feared even more that his son would be crushed.

"Bigger than you can believe," Li Wen said, his smile widening at his father's tense expression. "So I was thinking I'd wait until the report card came out, black and white, to show you—that would be shocking enough."

"You little brat, you're not just blowing smoke at me, are you?" Li Hong's heart settled halfway, his mouth expressing disbelief, but a glimmer of hope lit up his eyes.

He knew his own child; honesty was etched into his bones. Since starting school, his report cards had only ever ranged from failing to barely passing. Lying? Almost never.

"Top ten in the class," Li Wen said, word by word, carefully controlling the impact. "That should be no problem."

He didn't dare mention the grade ranking, let alone the battle with the Green-Clad Man that had shocked the entire school, afraid that too much joy might be too much for his father to bear.

"Top ten in the class?!" Clatter. The chopsticks in Li Hong's hand fell onto the table. He forgot to chew for a moment, and the pickled vegetables he'd just picked up dropped back into the bowl.

He jerked his head up, eyes wide, staring at Li Wen in disbelief, as if seeing his own son for the first time.

That kid—the one almost every teacher considered utterly devoid of martial talent except for his "hard work"? The son who perpetually scraped the bottom of the class, barely managing to pass? He'd suddenly clawed his way out of the mire of last place and charged into the top ten—a rank that symbolized real strength and potential?!

The news rang in his head like a great bell, booming and echoing, needing time to digest and confirm.

"...You—you're not messing with me?" Li Hong's voice trembled slightly, the immense shock of joy leaving him dizzy.

"The report card should be out in a couple of days," Li Wen said, grabbing a tissue to wipe his mouth as he stood up. His tone was calm but carried weight.

"You can see for yourself then." He didn't plan to explain further. Let the surprise slowly brew and boil in his father's heart—maybe it would dilute some of the bitterness of his illness.