Chapter Two: The Privileges of a Prodigy (Part One)

Zhao Li had a secret he never dared to tell anyone. He was a genius. His cultivation progress in the Basic Body-Strengthening Technique was over three and a half times that of a normal person.

But this secret was so deeply hidden that not even his parents knew, let alone his classmates or friends. The reason lay in something his father had said once while drunk.

Zhao Li’s father was a researcher, long engaged in human engineering studies. When Zhao Li was very young, there came a rare occasion when his father returned home drunk, held him close, and—whether due to work pressure or something else—spoke to his son with serious, drunken sincerity: “Son, you must live an ordinary, healthy life. Never become a genius.”

The innocent Zhao Li had then asked, “Dad, isn’t being a genius good? Geniuses are amazing, aren’t they?”

His father replied, “I know. I work with geniuses every day—don’t you think I’d know?” As with most people under the influence, his father was unusually forthcoming, and much chattier than usual.

Zhao Li no longer remembered most of what was said that night. But one sentence had engraved itself on his memory, uttered with a hiccup and a breath reeking of alcohol: “Son, never become a genius. Geniuses are all lab rats.”

As a child, Zhao Li didn’t know what was special about lab rats, but he did know he was afraid of mice. Later, he had the chance to visit his father’s research institute, where he saw a real white mouse, and learned from his father and other adults about the purpose of those creatures. When he witnessed one unlucky white mouse being dissected before his eyes, he finally understood the meaning behind the comparison.

Geniuses are lab rats—it sounded frightening, but Zhao Li knew his father never spoke without reason. From the moment he grasped what the phrase meant, he understood it was true.

Society had advanced to such a point that improving the overall quality of humanity had become the goal of many scientists. And how did they hope to do so? By studying those whose qualities exceeded the average—the so-called geniuses.

Because of this, Zhao Li developed an almost instinctive fear of the word “genius,” equating it with lab rats. In Zhao Li’s mind, lab rats were creatures raised solely to be dissected. When he grew older and truly understood what being a lab rat entailed, he felt an extreme aversion to the very idea of being a genius.

Unfortunately, genius is what it is, unaffected by Zhao Li’s wishes. No matter how much he rejected it in his heart, no matter how unwilling he was, he remained exceptional. The first time he realized he was different was during the first Internal Energy class in his freshman year.

“Cultivation progress: 1.1. Normal. Looks like you didn’t waste your week. You’ve passed, kid!” The instructor for the Body-Strengthening Technique clapped Zhao Li heartily on the shoulder. “Alright, my entire class has passed.”

Zhao Li exhaled deeply, surreptitiously wiping the cold sweat from his brow. The first week’s assignment required two hours of practice every night, but Zhao Li had only managed to train on Wednesday and Thursday, just two days out of the week, the rest lost to other obligations.

He had barely scraped by, and relief flooded him—if he’d been caught, who knew what special attention the formidable instructor might have given him? Everyone at the school knew that “the Gorilla” was infamous for his strictness; anyone who failed his standards would be thoroughly put through the wringer.

“Hey, Zhao Li, did you hear?” His classmate Johnny clapped him on the back, his voice loud and exaggerated, eager to attract Zhao Li’s attention.

“What is it? What happened?” Zhao Li glanced around for a familiar face, but finding none, he turned to Johnny.

“No point looking—Li Mengdie isn’t here. And it’s not likely you’ll see her again.” Johnny, knowing exactly whom Zhao Li was searching for, delivered the blow without a hint of concern.

“Why? Did something happen to her? Did she transfer?” Panic shot through Zhao Li as he grabbed Johnny by the collar. “How do you know?”

“You weren’t here yesterday. Li Mengdie was directly recommended by the school to the military’s genius academy.” Johnny had come early to tell Zhao Li, knowing he’d missed school the day before. “Someone came for her right after morning classes, handled the paperwork, and she left that afternoon.”

“Genius academy? Military? Why?” Zhao Li was bewildered. This girl, his classmate for nearly ten years, seemed ordinary apart from being well-liked. What was so special about her to earn her a spot at the genius academy?

“You really didn’t know.” Johnny smirked, reveling in the knowledge Zhao Li lacked, waiting for him to beg.

“Forget it.” Zhao Li cared about Li Mengdie, but he could learn the reason from others if need be. He didn’t care to indulge Johnny’s smugness.

“That’s no fun. After all, she was your unrequited crush.” Johnny teased, but seeing Zhao Li’s darkening expression, quickly corrected himself, “Girlfriend, girlfriend then, alright?”

“So, what happened to her?” Zhao Li was too anxious to mind Johnny’s games. “Two brand-new comics—now talk.” Though he could find out elsewhere, Johnny was a childhood friend, and comic books were their usual bargaining chips.

“Yesterday’s cultivation progress tests—Li Mengdie hit 2.3. An unprecedented record, never seen before or since. Even City Hall was alarmed. The military arrived in less than an hour, offered her all sorts of conditions, and admitted her on the spot.” Satisfied with the deal, Johnny relayed the key information without delay.

“Cultivation progress 2.3?” Zhao Li let go of Johnny’s collar in a daze. For a moment, his mind went completely blank, a hollow emptiness settling in his heart. His face turned pale, and he stood rooted to the spot.

“Hey, are you alright? Your secret crush getting into the military’s genius academy is a good thing.” Johnny tried to comfort him, thinking Zhao Li was upset only because he wouldn’t see Li Mengdie anymore.

“I’m fine.” Zhao Li’s mind was a blank whirl as Johnny pulled him back to his seat.

“Don’t tell me you’re that sentimental.” Johnny looked at him with disdain. “I’ll find you someone even prettier than Li Mengdie. Hey, if you’re unhappy, you don’t have to get physical!” Putting on an exaggerated air, Johnny grinned mischievously and dashed away.