Chapter Twenty-Four: Pressure

As he stepped down from the ring, Gao Wu immediately caught sight of Coach Huang Hai’s grim expression.

Without mincing words, Huang Hai scolded him, “Gao Wu, you’re not a child anymore. You should know better. Some things shouldn’t be said recklessly on stage.”

Gao Wu replied calmly, “Monkey and Wang Tiesong come from families with difficult circumstances. Even if insurance covers their medical expenses, the rehabilitation training afterward will still cost a lot. That’s not something their families can bear.

“I can’t help much; all I can do is speak up, hoping to win some support.”

“You mustn’t do that again,” Huang Hai said, shrewd as ever. With so many eyes watching, he needed to maintain his composure as their coach. Besides, this matter wasn’t really his concern. The more the school leaders disliked Gao Wu, the easier it was for Huang Hai to maneuver.

The Huanglong team had won three matches, but the award for Best Performance still went to Gao Wu, along with a thousand yuan prize.

Holding his glass trophy, Gao Wu beamed brightly. Crowds of students gathered for photos with him, and many girls asked for his autograph.

The Huanglong martial arts team watched from the side, envious. They had never received such attention after their own victories.

Young people—who doesn’t like to be in the spotlight?

Gao Wu, basking in his moment, was genuinely excited. Most of all, his earlier speech had earned him nearly two thousand virtue points, which brought him immense joy.

Indeed, good deeds should be done openly, letting everyone know. Only wrongdoings need to be hidden, fearful of discovery.

Returning to his dorm, Gao Wu changed clothes and tore up the little slips of paper girls had given him, throwing them away. His female classmates were enthusiastic and beautiful.

Unfortunately, he had no time for such distractions and had to disappoint their kindness.

The next day at noon, Gao Wu went to the hospital to visit Wang Tiesong and Monkey, only to find many students already gathered around their beds, with gifts of fruit, milk, and biscuits piled nearby.

High school students were simple and full of energy; motivated by Gao Wu’s speech, they all came to visit the injured friends.

Gao Wu watched quietly from the back for a while before slipping away. With Monkey and Wang Tiesong finally at the center of attention, he didn’t want to steal the spotlight.

Just as he’d said publicly, Gao Wu transferred eleven thousand yuan to them via Feixin. It wasn’t much, but for him, it was significant.

Now that the matter had been made public, the school would have to respond, if only for appearances. This should ease the burden on the injured students.

By Thursday, Gao Wu had finished injecting all ten doses of Blood Dragon Serum. His strength and spirit had reached eight points, an improvement of about one point over ten days.

This meant his spirit and strength had increased by roughly fifty percent. His agility was also up to seven points.

On another front, Song Mingyue had been training with him, pushing his progress in the Nine Forms of the Dragon.

Every day, he had a meal of expensive exotic beast meat, ensuring his nutrition.

With all these factors combined, his martial arts skills had advanced by leaps and bounds. Compared to ten days ago, his combat power had at least doubled.

Even for an eighteen-year-old, such progress was astonishing.

Taking advantage of the quiet noon, Gao Wu went to the martial arts hall to test his punching power.

He struck the target, and the machine displayed four digits: 1036.

He punched twenty times in a minute, each blow over a thousand kilograms.

Watching the numbers flash on the target, Gao Wu couldn’t help but feel excited.

The test for advanced martial artist was simple: twenty punches in a minute, each consistently over a thousand kilograms.

He finished twenty punches in less than forty seconds, still with energy to spare—unquestionably an advanced martial artist.

He only needed to take the test at the Tianwu Association to receive his advanced martial artist certificate.

According to statistics, in this era where everyone practices martial arts, only three percent become martial artists. Of those, only one in ten reach advanced level.

Ninety-nine percent achieve this after age twenty, by which time their potential is nearly exhausted.

Generally, only advanced martial artists under twenty have a chance to become warriors.

In Dongjiang’s nine counties and one city, with a population of over ten million and a million high school students, there were fewer than twenty advanced martial artists.

So, to earn an advanced martial artist certificate at eighteen was a rare achievement.

Gao Wu had always set this as his goal for his eighteenth year, and now he had achieved it easily. Alongside excitement, he felt a faint sense of loss.

Achievements won without hardship always seem to lack depth and savor.

But merely being an advanced martial artist was far from enough.

Anjing University’s Martial Arts Academy enrolls only three hundred students a year.

Across the seventy-seven cities of North Province, with a population of over three hundred million and four or five million eligible students, there should be four or five hundred advanced martial artists.

Anjing University gives preference to local students, and with connections and quotas for other provinces, only about a hundred spots remain for ordinary applicants from North Province.

Without connections, competition for these hundred places was fierce—almost brutal.

Shang Qingjun had exceptional martial talent and was the child of a martyr, yet still couldn’t enter the Martial Arts Academy, ending up in Anjing University’s Biology Department instead.

Of course, the Biology Department was the university’s top discipline.

In terms of importance, it far surpassed the Martial Arts Academy. The Academy produces warriors, but Biology produces scientists.

A major scientific discovery could change the world.

No matter how strong, a martial artist’s achievements are personal; true progress relies on talent in various fields. Shang Qingjun never liked fighting; she only aimed for the Academy because its subsidies were generous and would help her family.

For him, the Shang family’s connections were hard to leverage.

He was only the old man’s adopted orphan, with no name or status. Even if the old man intervened, others might not help.

Without other advantages, his personal martial arts points were especially low.

University admissions for martial arts students placed high weight on these points. This was the biggest issue he had to resolve before July.

“Gao Wu,” Coach Huang Hai’s cold voice rang out behind him, breaking his reverie.

Gao Wu turned, smiling and nodding in greeting. “Coach.”

Huang Hai glanced at the punch test machine; its electronic screen showed nothing. But from the surveillance room, he’d seen Gao Wu’s twenty consecutive punches, each smooth and powerful.

He couldn’t see the numbers, but his experience told him Gao Wu had reached advanced level. The machine kept records; if he wanted, he could check. But there was no need.

Just ten days since he’d given Gao Wu the Blood Dragon Serum, such progress was astonishing.

An eighteen-year-old advanced martial artist—his prospects were limitless.

At this point, Gao Wu was on a different path, no longer in competition with his nephew Huang Long. But such a promising talent—how could Huang Hai let him slip away?

“It seems the Blood Dragon Serum worked well,” Huang Hai said. “You’ll soon become an advanced martial artist.”

“It’s all thanks to your guidance and help, Coach,” Gao Wu replied, flattering him as a matter of course.

Regardless of Huang Hai’s character, he was a warrior; it was wise to maintain good relations.

Huang Hai asked, “Your aim is Anjing University, isn’t it?”

Gao Wu nodded vigorously. “I want to try.”

“The Martial Arts Academy at Anjing University is the holy ground of martial arts in North Province, with fierce competition. Without family background, you’ll need absolute strength to get in.”

Huang Hai continued, “The most important part of the Anjing University interview is the practical combat test. We train in martial arts to gain real power, so we can defeat beasts and purge demons.

“You have talent, but you’re still far from the true geniuses. Yet geniuses are rare; their mentors hesitate to let them risk themselves. They lack real combat experience. That’s your opportunity.”

“What do you mean, Coach?” Gao Wu had a general idea—Huang Hai was encouraging him to seek more real combat.

No doubt he had his own agenda. Gao Wu was curious what Huang Hai was up to.

“The Jinsheng Hotel hosts daily martial artist-level tournaments. The battles are intense, the prizes generous. If you compete, you’ll gain invaluable combat experience and win money—a win-win.”

Huang Hai’s eyes were cool as he asked, “What do you think?”

As a warrior, Huang Hai didn’t need theatrics; his cold, direct gaze alone exerted immense pressure on Gao Wu.

Gao Wu felt as if an invisible weight pressed down on him, his chest heavy, breath constricted. Anxiety and fear made him instinctively want to obey Huang Hai…