Chapter 28: Retaking a Year Is Out of the Question (Thanks to Young Cabbage of Yangzhou for the Patronage)

The homeroom teacher, Yang Yankun, was a man in his early forties. A long, slanted scar ran across his forehead, about the width of a finger, giving his features a slightly fierce cast.

It was said that this scar was a relic from the time Yang Yankun took his students out for field training. He had shielded a student from the charge of a wild beast, nearly having his skull pierced by its claws.

Xiao Nan knew that, as a homeroom teacher, Yang Yankun was diligent and responsible. He cared deeply for every student and was especially skilled in psychological counseling. In his memories, there were several instances of heartfelt conversations between the two. To offer such patient guidance to a student lagging behind both mentally and physically—one could only say, as a teacher, his character was beyond reproach.

Of course, he was not without flaws. He could be excessively strict in class. If anyone failed to pay attention or caused trouble, he would reprimand them so severely that they would even begin to doubt themselves.

He rapped the lectern lightly.

With a note of gravity, Yang Yankun began, “A single step ahead, and every step that follows leads you further. Life has many stages, but none more crucial than high school… This is the time when our ideas, vitality, and spirit grow swiftly—the very best period to lay a foundation in martial arts.”

It was the same old introduction, the sort of grand principle the teacher had repeated dozens of times. The students were long tired of hearing it. Yet at this moment, not one was distracted; they all knew this was only the prelude. What followed would be the brutal assessment that left each person in agony.

Knock, knock!

Two soft taps sounded at the front door. A tall, athletic young man with his hair slicked neatly back stood there. It was the class monitor, Lin Hao.

“Teacher, I’m not late, am I?”

“No, your timing is perfect. Remember to arrive early next time. Go take your seat.” Yang Yankun glanced at his watch—Lin Hao was, in fact, late. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, and he said nothing more.

But his smile was more frightening than his stern face: the scar on his forehead twisted, making him look rather menacing. Xiao Nan suspected that the reason the teacher always wore a stern expression was in part because of this.

“Yes, sir.” Lin Hao grinned, swept his gaze across the class, pausing momentarily on Xiao Nan, then strode to the center seat in the first row and sat down as if he owned the place.

No one thought it odd. Even if Lin Hao was late, the teacher would wait for him.

It wasn’t because he was the son of Vice Principal Lin Anguo, but because of his achievements.

Lin Hao’s record was no secret; Yang Yankun often cited him as a model to inspire the class.

Vitality could be measured, after all—it was transparent. Lin Hao was the only student in class whose vitality had broken through 4.0, and it was rumored he was still advancing, possibly already at 4.2.

Mental strength was harder to gauge and could only be inferred from outward signs. He seemed to have reached the deep meditative state, and had maintained it for quite some time. Otherwise, no matter how well he practiced his Mind-Body Tempering Method, he could not have increased his vitality so rapidly.

For a student, academic excellence was everything: the admiration of teachers, the respect of classmates, and countless privileges.

His deskmate, the class secretary Wei Yun-yun, quietly pulled out his chair for him. She was a girl who, aside from study and training, rarely spoke to anyone. Only when dealing with the class monitor did her demeanor soften slightly.

Beside them, Sun Kai smacked his lips enviously and whispered, “Last year, the threshold for admission to Lijiang Academy, the top martial arts university in the province, was a vitality score of 4.0. Lin Hao has already surpassed it—amazing. I heard that the Governor of Yuanjiang and the Director of Education, Ouyang Ming and Huang Yuehe, are both alumni of Lijiang University. A good martial arts university makes an enormous difference for the future.”

There was a tinge of jealousy and bitterness in his words that made Xiao Nan’s chest ache faintly. It was the deep-seated resentment of the mediocre towards the elite—something he too had once felt.

A vitality score above 4.0 might not sound impressive, and Xiao Nan hadn’t thought much of it at first. But recalling his own cultivation in his previous life, he understood just how difficult it was.

If 1.0 was considered the baseline for an ordinary adult’s vitality, then 4.0 meant four times the blood and energy—four times the strength and constitution.

Setting aside martial skills and mental fortitude, before reaching the ranked martial artist stage, vitality essentially equated to the strength of one’s physique—a true measure of individual power.

In this world, before one reached the ranked threshold, the maximum for ordinary people was 5.0, about the same as on Earth in Xiao Nan’s previous life. Roughly, that meant five times an average person’s constitution, with the strength to deliver blows weighing a thousand pounds.

In his memory, heavyweight boxing champions and renowned fighters, at their physical peak, could strike or kick with about a thousand pounds of force. In Western units, that was a little over a thousand pounds.

Of course, some could exceed this standard, delivering even heavier punches and kicks. Records showed that Tyson’s right hook once reached 1,600 pounds—around fifteen hundred in local units. Bruce Lee’s kicks could far surpass a thousand pounds as well.

However, there was a caveat: such feats relied on momentum—the force was not constant, but borrowed from acceleration during movement. For instance, a running start or a spinning punch.

An ordinary person with a vitality of 1.0 could muster about two hundred pounds of force.

So with Lin Hao’s vitality at 4.2, his constant punching power was around 840 pounds. For a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old high schooler, still in the midst of a rapid growth spurt, to have already achieved such strength—what heights could he reach in the future?

It was extraordinary, no doubt.

Xiao Nan pinched his own arm, feeling a bit helpless. What was his own score at the start of senior year?

Vitality: 1.2. Punching power: 240 pounds.

No wonder others looked down on him.

But after achieving a meditative state and practicing the Mind-Body Tempering Method, Xiao Nan had noticed his vitality and strength accelerating in recent days. There was a constant itch inside him, a restless urge to punch and kick, to expend energy.

By his own estimation, his vitality should now be around 1.4.

Still, time was too short. The higher one’s vitality, the harder it was to increase further, and the more nutrition was required.

In just two months, to catch up with Lin Hao was sheer fantasy. Even if he had all the medicinal support in the world, his mental strength would not be enough to sustain the tempering method, nor could his body digest it.

Aptitude—this was the harsh reality.

His body was naturally weak, and his ability to absorb nutrients and boost vitality lagged far behind those blessed with talent.

“Could it be that my only hope is to rely on superior martial skills to get into a third-rate martial arts university? At best, with a push, I could break through to 3.0 and apply to a second-rate school—or repeat a year and try for a top university? But repeaters are always looked down upon. Not only are their benefits in high school revoked, even at martial arts university they’re neglected for being a year older.”

None of these were insurmountable issues. If one’s vitality and mental strength rose quickly enough to prove their worth, it was still possible to surpass the rest.

But just thinking of his mother’s disappointed gaze and his sister’s sympathetic pity made Xiao Nan’s scalp tingle.

No, repeating a year was out of the question. Not in this lifetime.