The Embarrassment of Abilities "Fighting"

Lin Mo was already fuming when Ted's magic box got stuck at the turn in the stairs. The box was nailed together from plywood, with bits of tape still stuck to the corners, and it was stuffed with colorful silk scarves and half a sawn-off crutch—it was his newly designed Human Sawing prop, at least five pounds heavier than the Tin Turkey from last time.

"Push harder, Mo!" Ted's face was red, the veins on his forehead bulging like earthworms. "Just a little more!"

Lin Mo took a deep breath, braced the bottom of the box with his left hand, and grabbed the handle with his right, silently repeating, Phase—a habit he had picked up recently. Whenever he carried something heavy, he always thought about passing through it to save some effort. But just as his body was about to turn translucent, his arm suddenly tensed hard. His muscles stiffened like iron, and Physical Enhancement's instinctive reaction surged up without warning.

"Urgh—" The two powers collided inside him, and Lin Mo felt as though his insides had shifted out of place. The magic box caught on the stair railing with a click. His shoulder was wedged between the corner of the box and the wall; his upper body had already phased through the railing, but his lower body remained firmly nailed in place, like a steel bar forcibly bent in half.

"Damn! How did you get stuck?" Ted flailed in panic, wanting to pull him free but afraid of wrenching his arm off. "Were you using that Wall-Crossing Technique again? I told you that move wasn't reliable!"

Lin Mo grimaced in pain. He tried to relax and keep phasing, but his muscles refused to listen, tightening harder and harder as the back of his hoodie scraped against the wall with a rasping sound. "Don't touch me!" he growled through clenched teeth, focusing on fighting that damn instinct—Physical Enhancement always jumped out to cause trouble whenever he most needed to relax, like an unruly child.

After struggling for a full half minute, Lin Mo finally found the balance. He relaxed his muscles first, let his Phasing Ability take over, then gave a gentle push with his fingertips. At last, his whole body slid free of the gap. A hole had been rubbed into the back of his hoodie, exposing a red mark beneath it.

"What the hell was that?" Ted dragged the magic box into the basement, clicking his tongue as he stared at the mark on Lin Mo's back. "Didn't you used to phase through walls pretty smoothly? Why were you acting like a jammed-up recorder today?"

Lin Mo said nothing, only rubbing his aching shoulder. This was already the third time something had gone wrong this week: on Monday, while helping Martha deliver cakes, his leg had suddenly tensed while phasing through a wall, and he had banged his knee hard enough inside it to leave a bruise; on Wednesday, while chasing a purse snatcher, he had been about to phase through a wall for a shortcut when his body suddenly accelerated, nearly sending him into a fire hydrant; and this latest incident was even more absurd—he had gotten stuck in the stairs and couldn't move at all.

"Maybe... the abilities are fighting?" he said hesitantly, unease rising in his chest. The strength and speed brought by Physical Enhancement were certainly useful, but its unconscious tension was the complete opposite of the total relaxation his Phasing Ability required. It was like pressing the gas and brake at the same time. It would be a miracle if the engine did not stall.

"Fighting?" Ted's eyes widened as he reached out to touch Lin Mo's arm. "They can argue too? Maybe you haven't charged your wristband lately?"

"This thing doesn't need charging." Lin Mo slapped his hand away, suddenly remembering that Peter's physics textbook seemed to mention "motor nerve conflict." Maybe a similar principle could explain it—his two abilities mobilized different muscle groups, and his brain could not coordinate them in time, causing the confusion.

"You need to practice." Lin Mo stood up, his gaze falling on the chipped mirror in the basement. He had picked it up from a scrapyard, and its edges had been taped back together several times. He usually used it to check whether he had put his clothes on backward, but now it had become a useful training tool.

"Practice what? Practice phasing through walls without jamming?" Ted crossed his arms and watched the show. "Want me to call out slogans for you? 'Relax—phase! Tense up—run fast!'" He bellowed it twice, making even the lightbulb sway.

Lin Mo ignored him and stood before the mirror. The figure in the reflection wore a faded hoodie, had messy hair, and held a stubborn glint in his eyes. He took a deep breath, silently repeating, Relax, imagining himself as soft as water, then slowly reached toward the mirror—

The moment his fingertips touched the glass, his arm suddenly tensed. As his muscles bulged, the Phasing Ability vanished like an electric current that had been cut off. With a thud, his knuckles smashed into the glass, hurting badly enough to make him nearly jump.

"Whoa!" Ted whistled from beside him. "What did that mirror ever do to you?"

Lin Mo rubbed his reddened fingertips, sweat beading on his forehead. The problem was worse than he had thought—Physical Enhancement's instinct had seeped into his neural responses. Even when he deliberately tried to relax, his body still unconsciously went on alert. Like a soldier instantly dropping to the ground at the sound of gunfire, his muscles had equated "touching an object" with "tensing up to defend."

"Again." He gritted his teeth. This time, he deliberately slowed down, holding his fingertips three centimeters from the mirror and repeatedly chanting Phase in his mind. The chill of the mirror seemed to travel through the air, and his muscles began to itch again, as if ants were crawling over them. Lin Mo stared hard at his hand, imagining it turning into smoke, into flowing water, into anything that could pass through glass—

Screech. His fingertips finally passed through the mirror with a faint sensation of friction. Lin Mo's heart leaped with joy. Just as he was about to push his whole hand through, his arm suddenly jerked back. The translucent phasing state instantly collapsed, and the back of his hand slapped hard against the mirror, making the glass hum.

"Damn it," he muttered. The back of his hand was already bright red.

"Did you pick a fight with that mirror or something?" Martha's voice suddenly came from the doorway. The old woman stood there holding Snowball, her brow wrinkled like a twisted, wrung-out rag. "I've been hearing thumping since this morning. I thought you were tearing the house apart."

Snowball jumped from Martha's arms, circled Lin Mo's feet twice, and brushed his ankle with her tail, as though mocking him.

"Just practicing something." Lin Mo felt a little embarrassed and quickly turned to block the handprints on the mirror. "Ted wants to perform a wall-passing magic trick, so I'm testing it first."

"With the way you're slamming into walls?" Martha snorted, stepping inside to touch the edge of the mirror. "This mirror already has cracks. Hit it again and it'll shatter. If you want to practice, go to the park. There are trees there, and you won't feel bad if you hit them." As she spoke, she took out a fruit candy from her apron pocket, unwrapped it, and stuffed it into Lin Mo's mouth. "Suck on this. It'll cool that temper of yours."

The sweetness of the candy melted over his tongue, calming Lin Mo slightly. As he watched Martha leave with Snowball in her arms, he suddenly recalled what the old woman had said last time: "The world is about to change." Now it seemed that the first thing to change was himself—even his own body had started fighting him.

"How about taking a break?" Ted handed him a bottle of water. "You're pale as a sheet. You look like someone beat the crap out of you."

"No." Lin Mo unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp. "I have to get this down. What if I get stuck in a wall next time I'm saving someone? I'd be a laughingstock." He returned to the mirror, this time trying a different approach—first activating Physical Enhancement, then suddenly switching to phasing mid-motion.

He stepped back two paces and jogged toward the mirror, planning to activate phasing one second before touching the surface. But halfway there, a thought suddenly popped into his mind: Passing through would be faster. His steps unconsciously sped up, but his body forgot to switch states. Just as he was about to smash into the mirror headfirst, Lin Mo twisted sharply aside. His shoulder scraped past the glass, and with a crack, the fracture on the mirror spread another half inch.

"Oh my God!" Ted covered his eyes in fright. "This isn't practice! This is a suicide attack!"

Lin Mo leaned against the wall, gasping. His shoulder burned with pain. Looking at his bedraggled reflection, he suddenly felt discouraged—phasing used to be so smooth. Ever since Physical Enhancement appeared, nothing seemed right anymore. It felt like drawing a circle with his left hand and a square with his right; he could not coordinate them no matter what he did.

"Maybe it's a neural reflex issue." Peter's voice suddenly came from the doorway. The boy had a backpack slung over his shoulder and was holding a copy of Exercise Physiology. "I heard the commotion from the stairwell. Lin Mo, are the neural signals from your two abilities conflicting?"

"What does that mean?" Ted leaned closer as if he were listening to an incomprehensible lecture.

"It means your brain is sending two commands to your body at once." Peter opened the textbook and pointed to a neural diagram inside. "Physical Enhancement needs the motor nerves to become excited and the muscles to contract. Phasing might require suppressing some neural activity to keep your body relaxed. When those two commands collide, you get lag or loss of control."

Lin Mo froze for a moment. That explanation was far more convincing than his theory of "abilities fighting." "So what do I do?"

"You need to build a new conditioned reflex." Peter adjusted his glasses, his eyes lighting up like he had discovered a new research topic. "Like training a puppy to obey commands, you need to set clear signals for your brain—specific movements or verbal cues—so it knows which ability to use and when."

"Verbal cues?" Lin Mo raised a brow. "Like saying, 'Transform'?"

"More or less." Peter smiled and nodded. "You could try shouting 'Phase' or 'Enhance' in your mind, paired with specific gestures. Once it becomes a conditioned reflex, they won't conflict anymore."

The idea sounded a little silly, but he had nothing to lose. Lin Mo cleared his throat, raised his right hand toward the mirror with his palm facing forward, and said, "Phase!" At the same time, he silently told himself to relax as his fingertips slowly approached the mirror—this time, they passed through smoothly. No lag, no tension. It was as natural as drinking water or eating.

"It worked!" Ted clapped excitedly. "Peter, you're more reliable than those doctors!"

Lin Mo was a little surprised too. Just as he was about to pass his whole hand through, he remembered that he needed to switch to Physical Enhancement. He shouted, Enhance, in his mind and clenched his fist—the phasing state immediately ended, and his fist slammed into the mirror with a thud. This time it was even worse. The crack spread straight from the edge to the center, like an exploding ice flower.

"..." Peter's smile froze on his face. "Maybe... you still need more practice."

For the next hour, shouts of "Phase!" and "Enhance!" echoed through the basement, mixed with dull impacts against the wall and Ted's startled cries. Lin Mo went from fumbling wildly at first to barely managing three successful switches later on. Every attempt came with bumps and bruises, but at least he was making progress.

He discovered that the specific gestures really did help: palm forward meant phasing, a clenched fist meant enhancement. Combined with the mental commands, his brain seemed able to respond faster. He still made mistakes from time to time, though. For example, when he tried to clench his fist but his fingers lagged behind, he ended up half-phased and half-enhanced, stuck in the mirror, making Ted laugh until his stomach hurt.

"I can't, I can't!" Ted laughed so hard he could barely stand straight, pointing at Lin Mo stuck in the mirror. "You look like a sausage squashed inside a sandwich—an undercooked one!"

Lin Mo was so angry he wanted to kick him, but his body was stuck and he could not move. He could only watch helplessly as Ted pulled out his phone to take pictures. "Delete that!"

"No way. This is priceless blackmail material. I'm keeping it." Ted set the photo as his wallpaper, then deliberately waved it in front of Lin Mo's face. "When you become a superhero someday, I'll sell this picture to the newspapers. I'll make a fortune!"

Peter recorded the results seriously from the side. "Seventeenth attempt: phasing-to-enhancement transition failed. Subject stuck in mirror for thirty seconds. Cause: fist-clenching motion delayed by 0.5 seconds. Recommendation: increase hand training to improve motion accuracy."

Lin Mo finally struggled free, a shard of mirror stuck in his hair. He looked like a deserter who had just crawled off a battlefield. He snatched Ted's phone and deleted the picture, then collapsed onto the floor with no strength left even to curse.

That evening, Aunt May came to call them to dinner. The moment she entered, she was startled by the glass shards all over the floor. "Were you tearing the building down?" Seeing the cracks in the mirror and the bruises on Lin Mo, the old woman instantly understood. "Your superpowers acting up again?"

"Yeah." Lin Mo looked a little embarrassed. "I got carried away with training."

"What's the use of rushing?" Aunt May sighed, taking his arm and leading him upstairs. "Dinner's already gone cold. Eat first. Listen, when I was learning to knit, I unraveled seven or eight balls of yarn before I learned the knit and purl stitches. Nothing happens overnight."

At the dinner table, Aunt May deliberately served Lin Mo a bowl of pork rib soup to help mend "the bones the mirror beat up." Peter was still eagerly discussing neural reflex training, while Ted vividly reenacted Lin Mo's embarrassing struggle inside the mirror, making everyone laugh.

"Actually, I ran into something similar before." Carlos suddenly spoke, setting down his wineglass. "When I was young and learning auto repair, I had to remember electrical principles while practicing with my hands. I kept mixing the two up and ruined several engines. Later, my master told me not to try doing two things well at the same time. Master one first, and the other will naturally fall into place."

Lin Mo's heart stirred. Carlos was right. He had been too impatient, always wanting to master both abilities at once, only to make them interfere with each other. Maybe he should practice them separately—push each ability to its limit first, then slowly find the point where they could combine.

After dinner, Lin Mo did not return to the basement. Instead, he went to the community park. The park was empty at night, with only the streetlights casting mottled shadows across the ground. He walked beneath the old locust tree and first practiced using only his Phasing Ability to pass through the trunk. Once, twice, until he could slip through smoothly even with his eyes closed.

Then he stepped back several paces and began to run, using only Physical Enhancement. He felt out the rhythm of his muscles contracting, adjusted his breathing, and kept his speed within a controllable range.

Finally, he stood before the tree and took a deep breath. He began with a slow jog. One second before touching the trunk, he held his palm forward and silently said, Phase—his body flowed through the tree like water without the slightest resistance. The instant he emerged on the other side, he clenched his fist and gave the command, Enhance. Without stopping, he continued charging forward for another ten meters before coming to a halt.

"It worked!" Lin Mo pumped his fist excitedly, and even the bruise on his back seemed to stop hurting.

He repeated the motion again and again, changing from a jog to a sprint, from tree trunks to the iron fences in the park, from straight lines to turns. Each switch became smoother than the last, like gears finally meshing together with a crisp turning sound.

By the time he returned to the basement, Ted was sleeping like the dead, drool soaking his pillow. Lin Mo looked at the mirror covered in cracks and suddenly found it less irritating. He took glass adhesive from the toolbox and carefully sealed the cracks. The marks were still visible, but at least it would not shatter.

The next morning, Martha passed by the basement and saw Lin Mo smoothly phasing back and forth in front of the mirror, occasionally speeding up for a few steps before suddenly passing through it. She raised her brows in surprise. "Looks like you and the mirror made up?"

"More or less." Lin Mo smiled, the weight in his heart finally lifting.

"Good." Martha snorted and handed him a cloth bundle. "Fresh-baked bread. Feed that brain of yours, and stop fighting with yourself all the time."

Lin Mo took the bundle, warmth passing into his fingertips. He watched Martha walk away, then looked at himself in the mirror and suddenly understood: abilities were like the troubles in life. They were never perfect. There would always be conflicts and stumbles. But as long as he thought things through patiently and worked at coordinating them, he would eventually find a way for them to coexist.

Like this cracked mirror—it was imperfect, but it had witnessed his clumsiness and progress, making it more meaningful than a brand-new one.

Lin Mo made a face at the mirror, then turned and picked up the toolbox—today he was going to help Peter fix his mechanical spider. It was the perfect chance to test his newly trained skills and see whether he could adjust parts while phasing. That would definitely be interesting.