Chapter 42: Summoning the Spirits

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak... the sorrow of a man. He knew exactly how his opponent would move, yet his body simply couldn’t keep up. Forced interception and counterattack weren’t impossible, but his strength and speed were far inferior; the only outcome of resistance was to be subdued.

Xiao Cheng possessed a superhuman brain, but lacked a robust physique. Though his body was not frail, he was leagues behind Yang Ze, whose strength had been honed since childhood.

“Let’s stop here,” Tai Hu said, satisfied that he had learned what he needed. He separated the two, preparing to drag Yang Ze back to work, but Xiao Cheng blocked his path.

“Wait! Let me think!”

If he could analyze his opponent’s movements, discerning subtleties others missed, then surely he could dissect his own actions as well. With a superbrain, there was no reason he couldn’t control his body. Yang Ze was agile, but Xiao Cheng’s ability to anticipate could neutralize that advantage—he only needed to make his moves a touch faster, a shade fiercer.

Xiao Cheng calmed himself, focusing inward. The bustle of the outside world faded, replaced by a serene realm. The body never truly stands still; even at rest, one breathes, and if breath is held, the heart continues to beat. Every movement transmits information, though most is filtered out unconsciously.

In this personal world, Wen Xiaodao appeared behind Xiao Cheng, watching his actions with interest.

In the hush, every breath sounded like thunder, each powerful heartbeat pounding from recent exertion, like a drum whose every stroke sent blood surging through his veins, fueling his muscles. Blood coursing through vessels made its own sound. Raising a hand, signals flowed from his brain through nerves to muscles: trapezius, deltoid, pectorals, biceps, triceps, and more, all cooperating. Xiao Cheng shifted focus to each muscle, changing posture to sense their different responses. A simple punch broke down into the interplay of dozens of muscles. Strength was determined by muscle power; speed depended on coordination, which normally required years of training—but Xiao Cheng skipped that step.

“Brother Yang, try me again,” Xiao Cheng opened his eyes.

“You’ve practiced Tai Chi?” Tai Hu asked before Wang Yang could respond.

“Tai Chi? Never touched it,” Xiao Cheng was bewildered. Had he inadvertently performed a set of Tai Chi while sensing his body?

“Master, I still think his moves looked more like pole dancing…”

Tai Hu frowned, nodding thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I think so too.”

Pole dancing…

What had he done while meditating?

“Master Hu, may I hit him?” Xiao Cheng asked.

“Go ahead.”

The moment permission was granted, Xiao Cheng stepped forward, landing a punch squarely on Yang Ze’s nose. Wang Yang saw a massive fist before he could even react.

“What the—so fast? Again!” Unconvinced, Yang Ze retreated a step and threw a punch. This time, Xiao Cheng didn’t dodge; instead, he struck lightning-fast, hitting Yang Ze’s wrist and deflecting his fist, then swept across with his palm like a blade, stopping less than a centimeter from Yang Ze’s face—the gust flattened the fine hairs on his cheeks.

“Huh? I don’t believe it!” Yang Ze attacked once more, this time with utmost caution: probing with his left hand, feinting, then swinging a powerful right hook. Xiao Cheng sidestepped, used his body to bump Yang Ze’s arm, leveraged the force to slip behind him, and pulled a set of keys from Yang Ze’s pocket.

Wang Yang attacked repeatedly, but Xiao Cheng always responded after the fact, landing his fist or palm on Wang Yang’s face each time. The agile Yang Ze couldn’t even react. After a dozen exchanges, he realized his keys had vanished.

“Damn, are you cheating?”

Xiao Cheng couldn’t suppress his excitement. By coordinating his muscle groups this way, his movements were nearly twice as fast as before—his hand almost arrived before he even thought. The famously nimble Yang Ze had no chance. If a person were an army commanded by the brain, Xiao Cheng’s troops lacked training and couldn’t match Wang Yang’s, but his outstanding command brought out their best, overwhelming Wang Yang.

Yang Ze struggled to accept it—a boy four years his junior, previously relying on sly tricks to survive, in just half a minute, after a bout of pole dancing, suddenly transformed into Bruce Lee? Was this spirit possession? Should he wait for incense to burn before facing him again? Yang Ze had always been a tough guy, able to take down several at once. Today was strange: at first, he couldn’t catch the kid; when the kid stopped running, he still couldn’t land a hit; now, with Xiao Cheng’s sudden breakthrough, he was utterly outmatched. How bleak life felt!

“Master Hu, I can control my body now!”

Tai Hu had never seen such a display, but despite his surprise, he spotted Xiao Cheng’s weakness. A seasoned boxer’s movements bypass the brain, relying on muscle memory. Xiao Cheng, though quick, still coordinated through conscious effort, so he was no match for a professional in speed—and his physical strength was lacking. Speed he had, but power was insufficient.

“Yang Ze, don’t worry, no need to feel down. Xiao Cheng’s situation is unique. Just focus on your training,” Master Hu comforted Wang Yang, handed him a wrench, and sent him back to work. Turning to Xiao Cheng, he said, “Attack me.”

Xiao Cheng was eager, like a child with a new toy, impatient to try it out. “Master Hu, here I come,” he called, launching a straight punch at Tai Hu’s face.

The fist whistled through the air, a blow powered by all 639 of Xiao Cheng’s muscles—even the facial muscles strained with effort. Tai Hu stood unmoving until the fist was less than ten centimeters from his nose, then suddenly ducked and thrust forward, smashing his forehead into Xiao Cheng’s fist.

The forehead is the hardest bone in the human body; Xiao Cheng felt as though he’d punched a wall. Luckily, he had pulled back some force before contact, or else he’d have broken bones. Even so, the pain made him grimace and suck in cold air.

“Wait until summer break. In one vacation, I can make you a master!” Tai Hu’s eyes gleamed as he regarded this near-master bouncing with excitement.

“If not for that punch, I’d say I’m already a master,” Xiao Cheng grinned.

Master Hu laughed. “Almost there.”

——————

Apologies for the late chapter, but at least it made it in time.