Chapter 82: The Agile Three-Hundred-Pound Fatty (Please add to your favorites and vote for recommendations!!)

"Mm, I believe you." Zhao Xuan hung her head, her chin pressed against her two little watermelons, her expression tangled and complex. She took a deep breath before untying the red plastic cord that bound the top of the woven sack.

Matured rehmannia is heavy, so even a hundred pounds only filled the bag halfway.

As the mouth of the sack opened, a strong aroma of herbal medicine wafted out. Inhaling the scent of this premium matured rehmannia, Zhao Xuan’s eyes lit up, as if she were gazing at diamonds.

"Why is Zhao Xuan so excited? Could she be a practitioner as well?" Zhao Xuan’s odd reaction didn’t escape Chen Anquan’s sharp observation. He found her response almost too intense.

Zhao Xuan bent at the waist, reaching into the sack and grabbing a chunk of black, dried rehmannia that looked like a piece of candied sweet potato. She held it to her nose for a sniff. "How much in total?"

Her skill in appraising matured rehmannia was abysmal; Chen Anquan guessed she was a complete layperson, no wonder she’d been tricked by that old herbal peddler in town.

"Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand?" Zhao Xuan was clearly incredulous at the price.

"This matured rehmannia meets the export standards for Fusang and Chao countries, processed through nine cycles of steaming and sun-drying—exquisite quality you won’t find on the open market. I’ve already sold a batch to Boss Kuang Quan, who runs the county’s pharmaceutical factory."

"I know Kuang Quan. His factory is the largest Chinese herbal decoction company in Yicheng. I once interviewed him there. He said many hospitals and pharmacies in our city source their herbs from his company."

"No wonder you’re a journalist—you really do know everyone," Chen Anquan chuckled.

"It’s just acquaintances, not close friends," she replied, pulling out her phone and making the transfer. "The money’s sent. I’ll be heading back now."

"No problem at all." Chen Anquan smiled broadly, delighted to see another eight thousand added to his account.

With great courtesy, he hoisted the hundred-pound sack of matured rehmannia onto his shoulder and carried it to Zhao Xuan’s car trunk.

"Goodbye!" Chen Anquan waved as Zhao Xuan drove away.

Zhao Xuan was a major client; he had to treat her well. She might come back for more medicine next time.

"Sigh!" As she drove off, Zhao Xuan glanced in the rearview mirror at Chen Anquan’s shrinking figure, sighing softly. She turned to look at the trunk. "I hope this will finally heal Dad’s old injury for good."

Once her car disappeared beyond the village, Chen Anquan turned his attention to the attribute panel in his mind.

After an hour of practicing tai chi and a set of tai chi sword forms, his proficiency had increased by twenty points for the former, five for the latter.

It seemed that breaking through to Level 3 in tai chi would require even more diligent practice.

He walked home, entered his room, and took out a square-shaped electronic device and a small timer.

Unknowingly, he had been training for a month already, and now he wanted to test his actual strength: a hundred-meter sprint, punching power, stamina, vertical leap, and so on.

Chen Anquan wore a black training outfit, with weighted gear strapped to his chest, back, arms, wrists, and legs, all set to the maximum—two hundred kilograms.

Online, the heaviest standard weight gear was fifty kilograms, but Chen Anquan had found a vendor and spent a good sum customizing a one-hundred-kilogram set.

To his surprise, the vendor later told him there was also a two-hundred-kilogram set available, but wearing it made you look like a giant blob and cost several times more.

Of course, Chen Anquan wanted to become a "giant blob"!

At the moment, he really did look the part: from afar, his limbs seemed bloated, and every step he took landed with a heavy thud.

With four hundred jin—the equivalent of two hundred kilograms—strapped to his body, Chen Anquan felt as if a mountain pressed down on him, his chest and limbs gripped by an even, hydraulic force. His breathing grew labored.

His respiration rate jumped from the normal twenty breaths a minute to thirty; his heart rate soared from sixty to a hundred. He estimated his blood pressure must be at least 160 over 100.

His brain throbbed with blood, the heavy gear burning through his energy, especially in his muscles. Panting, he jogged along the rugged mountain path toward the quarry.

Every so often, the edge of his shoe would catch a stone by the roadside and send it flying at high speed.

Crack! Crack!

The stones launched from his feet slammed into the surrounding bushes, snapping thumb-thick branches in two.

"Who knew the stones I kicked could pack such a punch!" Chen Anquan looked with satisfaction at the broken branches and kept jogging.

Not long ago, he’d tried walking slowly while carrying a six-hundred-jin boulder.

But now, jogging with four hundred jin strapped on felt far more taxing than walking with six hundred jin.

After two laps back and forth, Chen Anquan hit his limit and plopped down on a huge rock.

Blue veins bulged on his forehead, knotted like tangled roots, webbed like a spider’s domain.

Sweat the size of mung beans streamed down from his scalp under his cropped hair, his whole body burning with unbearable heat. Chen Anquan threw his head back, gazing up at the sky.

Such a challenge to the very limits of life was both torment and exhilaration.

He slowly calmed his breathing, adjusting his rate from around thirty-five breaths a minute downward.

Thirty.

Twenty-five.

Twenty.

Back to normal.

In the next instant, his legs exploded with power, propelling him forward like an African leopard pouncing on prey, springing into a full sprint.

Jogging was grueling, but he could push on through sheer willpower, training relentlessly.

Yet he wasn’t satisfied—he wanted something even more extreme.

Wearing four hundred jin of weight, he would sprint at full tilt along the rocky foothills, racing all the way to his limit.

Bang! Bang! Crack!

Each step he took left a ten-centimeter-deep imprint in the ground, stones beneath his feet shooting up with the impact.

Some of the thumb-sized stones even ricocheted off his own body!

Despite sprinting, his speed was only comparable to a woman who barely exercises, chasing after a purse-snatcher in a desperate dash.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

Chen Anquan’s heartbeat skyrocketed; by the end, he could even feel his throat pulsing.

After about three hundred meters, he couldn’t go any farther and was forced to stop.

"Hahaha!"

He gasped for breath, collapsing to the ground, thoroughly spent.

The next moment, his mind went blank, as if his very brain had been sucked out, and he fainted on the spot.

Ten minutes later, Chen Anquan finally opened his eyes, staring up at the white clouds. "I actually fainted!"

He was astonished—clearly, he’d pushed himself too far, forcing his body past its limits. Fainting, after all, was an evolutionary defense mechanism, protecting us from self-destruction.

"Better stick to jogging."

Slowly, Chen Anquan got to his feet and resumed jogging.

This time, to his surprise, it felt noticeably easier than before.

The difference was subtle, but as a seasoned practitioner, he could sense the change in his heart rate and breathing—he knew his body well.

He jogged on, all the way till dusk.

Whenever he tired, he’d rest for a few minutes atop a large stone.

The afterglow of sunset washed over his brow, a streak of orange light dazzling his eyes. Chen Anquan glanced at his phone. "It’s gotten this late already!"

Jogging all the way back, he returned to the basketball court.

Bang!

A basketball slammed hard against the backboard.

Several little boys stood beneath it, craning their necks to snatch the rebound.

The youngest, Chen Xinwu, jumped up, arms raised, ready to catch the falling ball.

But just then, a rotund figure soared into the air.

Like a high-flying acrobat, the plump man snatched the ball in midair, spun a full three-sixty, and dunked it with both hands.

All three boys were stunned.

The runny-nosed one blurted, "Whoa, who is that?"

Gap-toothed boy cried, "My god, how can a three-hundred-pound fatty move like that?"