Chapter 29: Why Must You Go So Far

The wisdom that "a tree taller than the forest is sure to be felled by the wind" was something Ren Zhong had learned from his ancestors many years ago. He understood that while in the twenty-first century one could flaunt their talents without restraint, in this world, caution was necessary.

He never abandoned his instinct for self-preservation.

Wen Lei asked, "Why not? Isn’t it good to get tested? It’s a symbol of status!"

Ren Zhong replied, "Talent is nothing more than a self-deception. Before it’s realized, it’s just an ephemeral number. No matter how high one's talent, if you lose a fight, you’ll still die. What matters is your actual strength."

"Mm, you’re smart as ever, Ren," Wen Lei sighed.

The training that followed was exactly as Ren Zhong expected. In fact, upon entering the intermediate training grounds and seeing the array of equipment, he already had a rough idea of what was to come.

With Wen Lei’s help, Ren Zhong removed his standard training armor and donned the specialized reinforced suit. The all-alloy structure of the reinforced armor made him look, for a moment, reminiscent of the Master Chief from Halo.

Ren Zhong tried raising his hand, but found himself unable to move, as if he were locked inside a mummy’s sarcophagus. If not for the transparent visor letting him see outside, he might have developed claustrophobia.

Wen Lei explained, "The reinforced suit is basically configured like a Grade-One armor, with a maximum output of 50 kilowatts. However, it’s been made lighter and fitted with an expensive signal amplifier. When you use the full 50 kilowatts, the biological electric load you bear is only one-tenth that of regular armor—just 5 kilowatts. Right now, you can use about 20 kilowatts total with the reinforced suit. This lets you experience the strength of formal equipment ahead of time."

Ren Zhong asked, "If this technology is so good, why isn’t it widely adopted? Wouldn’t it lower the threshold for becoming a professional warrior and create more fighters?"

Wen Lei paused, "Signal amplifiers are expensive. This suit costs at least twice as much as a regular Grade-One armor. Plus, its delay time is more than three times that of standard equipment, which can be fatal in real combat."

"I see."

"Alright, I’m powering up now. Pay close attention to how moving in the armor differs from normal. Training is about constantly adapting to this process."

Ren Zhong nodded.

Moments later, a faint buzzing sounded in his ears as the system rapidly booted up.

He felt the familiar tingle of electricity throughout his body, though much weaker than during the earlier load test. Focusing, he sensed countless currents trickling through his limbs and bones toward his brain, some linking to his spine, others connecting directly to his mind.

This sensation was similar to when he first wore the wrist device, but the electric flow was much more intricate.

After a while, Ren Zhong’s body shuddered slightly, and he suddenly felt stronger, as if his bones had thickened and his muscles swelled.

He knew this was the “illusion” caused by bioelectric deception—the extra physiological structure was simply the armor.

"Try lifting your leg, slowly," Wen Lei said. "I’ve set micro-feedback, with the armor output at only 2 kilowatts, so there’s no serious delay. This is another feature of the reinforced suit: it can provide minute assistance at lower power than the basic 10-kilowatt value. You can quickly adapt to mech control from scratch."

"That’s quite good," Ren Zhong remarked.

Compared to the tedious, rote-learning materials in the wrist device, this world’s introductory training for combat professions was much more detailed and humane—almost idiot-proof.

He tried raising his leg and stepped forward.

About 0.1 seconds after his brain issued the command, the armor responded in sync.

With a soft thud, Ren Zhong took a steady step.

Wen Lei’s lips twitched and his pupils shrank.

Damn, what a talent! Ren’s adaptability was astonishing!

When Wen Lei started, he hadn’t used the reinforced suit; instead, he maxed out his bioelectric load to 10 kilowatts and jumped straight to Grade-One armor, setting the power limit at 10 kilowatts to gradually adapt.

Taking that first step, Wen Lei faced the same difficulty as Ren Zhong, but unlike Ren, he immediately lost balance and fell flat on his face.

"Excellent! Ren, try walking a lap around the arena," Wen Lei instructed, forcing himself to remain calm.

After half a lap, Ren Zhong forgot Wen Lei had said "walk," and began jogging.

Returning to Wen Lei, Ren Zhong tried several stretching movements from the eighth radio calisthenics routine, muttering to himself, "Each sync has a 0.1-second delay—strange, a bit hard to get used to. This is really challenging."

Wen Lei was speechless.

Deciding to skip the basics, Wen Lei moved straight to advanced training.

"Ren, do you see those nine targets over there?"

"I do," Ren Zhong replied, glancing at the nine black discs, each about half a meter in diameter, five meters away.

"There’s a low-power laser pistol at your waist. The nine targets will flash randomly at a rate of once per second. Try shooting them. This trains both your mental response and physical index."

"Alright."

Five minutes later...

Wen Lei stared, speechless at the 90% hit rate.

Ren Zhong couldn’t hold back anymore, "The targets are so big, and the gun’s purely linear—I could hit them with my eyes closed. It’s too easy."

Wen Lei roared internally.

Brother, the difficulty isn’t in aiming!

The real challenge is seeing the flash, issuing the command, and perfectly coordinating your body and armor. That’s what needs training!

You’re focusing on the wrong thing!

Wen Lei persisted. "Then shoot continuously for half an hour, just as a warm-up?"

"Sure."

Half an hour later, Ren Zhong’s overall accuracy had risen to 98%.

Wen Lei had quietly reduced the flash interval to 0.8 seconds.

This meant Ren Zhong’s armor control and mental response index were nearly catching up to Wen Lei.

At last, Ren Zhong began to breathe heavily.

"I’m a bit tired," he admitted.

Wen Lei, who’d been spectating and giving verbal guidance, said, "Me too."

"Why don’t you grab a chair and sit?"

"No, no. I’m not tired physically. Since all this is too easy for you, let’s go straight to full-scale training."

"What kind?"

"Simulated combat dodging. The humanoid AI mech over there will attack you at frequencies similar to ordinary brawling, from different directions and speeds, at low power. Practice dodging and blocking together. This is the most intense training in the intermediate arena. I thought it would take you over a week to reach this stage. Your balance, your motor skills..."

Ren Zhong nodded, "Keep it low-key. No need to exaggerate. Let’s get started."

After a large bowl of high-absorption nutrition, Ren Zhong took a deep breath and walked toward the AI mech.

...

Over three hours later, Wen Lei, injured as he was, carried Ren Zhong out of the training grounds.

Ren Zhong’s face was pale as if drenched, his clothes utterly soaked, looking like a drowned rat.

His eyelids drooped; he barely had the strength to open his eyes.

Wen Lei couldn’t help but say, "Ren, you didn’t have to push yourself so hard. All your other stats are good, only the overall fitness index is lagging—you can take it slow."

An hour ago, Wen Lei had seen Ren Zhong staggering on the brink of collapse.

He’d advised Ren Zhong to stop and spend the rest of the session resting, since the reinforced suit would still train his load capacity.

Though it was a bit wasteful to use up the four hours purchased with ten contribution points without high-intensity training, one must know their limits.

Unexpectedly, Ren Zhong refused to quit, even sending Wen Lei to beg Qu Qingmeng for another portion of nutritional food.

After eating, Ren Zhong forced himself to keep going until now.

During the last hour, Wen Lei had feared more than once that Ren Zhong might drop dead.

Ren Zhong chuckled from Wen Lei’s back, "That won’t do. I spent the money, so I have to train to the full. It’s like a buffet—you have to get your money’s worth."

Despite his words, Ren Zhong was silently reviewing his stats.

After this round of training, aside from brain-machine synchronization, his other three metrics had been roughly measured.

In these four hours, his bioelectric load capacity had risen to 2.3 kilowatts, seemingly at a faster rate.

As for the others...

To match the load, his mental response and fitness indexes were converted accordingly.

His mental response index was 19—far above the minimum of 10 for a Grade-One warrior—not surprising, given his years of daily high-intensity table tennis during his student days, besting nearly every old man in the park, earning the nickname "Old Man’s Woe." Good table tennis players are always quick to react.

But his overall fitness index had started at just 5—the standard for malnourished wastelanders.

After half a day of hard training and two servings of nutrition, though he hadn’t fully recovered, the machine estimated his fitness index had risen to 6.

Ren Zhong was satisfied with the result, confident that soon he would fully escape his illness and regain a strong body.

Someone once said, the body is the foundation of revolution.

Ren Zhong believed this was a profound truth.

Wen Lei nagged, "Next time, don’t push yourself like this. You need to go step by step. I just don’t understand why you’re so driven."

Ren Zhong laughed, but didn’t explain.

Ever since he first set foot in Spark Town and witnessed the miserable lives of the wastelanders, he’d made up his mind.

Why am I so driven?

Because this world devours people.

I can’t know if I can change it.

But since I have talent, I must become a predator in this world.

At the very least, I don’t want to be devoured.

As for Wen Lei's fears of sudden death—was Ren Zhong afraid?

Of course.

But that didn’t stop him from testing his limits, even as he feared death.

This was his rebirth; every day, every hour, every second was precious.

The two walked for about ten minutes, arriving at a small courtyard in the middle of the slums in the northern part of town.

The courtyard had four-meter-high walls, eight meters wide and sixteen meters deep, with a two-story prefab building inside.

"This is our squad’s courtyard. We usually rest here. This is your first time, right, Ren? There’s a shower inside—go wash up. Can you still move?"

Wen Lei explained as he pushed open the door.

Ren Zhong replied, "Barely."

Inside, Zheng Tian and several others were sitting in the yard, chatting and snacking on seeds.

Seeing the two return, Zheng Tian immediately stood and hurried over.

Noticing Ren Zhong’s near-dead appearance, she angrily punched Wen Lei in the chest, "What happened? How did you let Ren end up like this? Did someone cause trouble?"

Wen Lei winced as her punch landed on his injury, instinctively stepping back and explaining, "No, it’s not like that."