Punching Elixirs, Kicking Li Zhongwei

Friday was a happy day because the second-to-last class in the afternoon was P.E.

Lin Mo once again had to organize the lineup.

"Attention! Eyes right! Eyes front!"

"Count off!"

"Reporting, Class 8 of Grade 10—one student absent, the remaining 49 present."

Jiang Daming nodded.

"Next, run two laps. Then today, we'll review the 9th Set Radio Calisthenics. Are there any students who haven't learned this routine?"

The class instantly erupted in groans.

Most had learned the 9th Set Radio Calisthenics in middle school.

Who would’ve thought they’d still be doing it in high school?

Lin Mo had nearly forgotten the moves, but with his improved memory now, he could still recall the routine after some thought.

The rest of the class had muscle memory for it too.

"Stop whining. Starting next week, during the morning break, the seniors will do running exercises while you’ll be stuck with calisthenics. Got it?"

By senior year, students only had to run two laps before being dismissed, leaving the freshmen and sophomores to continue the exercises.

That was Guangba’s rule—every school had its own policies.

After two rounds of calisthenics, Jiang Daming finally released Class 8 for free time.

Most of the students gathered in groups anyway.

The reason? The last period was club activity time.

Freshmen and sophomores could join interest clubs—part of the school’s effort to develop students’ extracurricular skills.

Being a top-tier high school, it wasn’t just about academics; they also encouraged well-rounded growth.

There were academic clubs like the Recitation Society, Drama Club, Literature Club, and English Club.

Then there were hobby-based groups like Radio Direction-Finding and Debate Club.

And of course, sports clubs—basketball, soccer, badminton, table tennis—you name it.

Each category had its own niche, and the school provided dedicated spaces for them.

Over at the basketball court, the boys were hyped up, fantasizing about joining the team.

"With my skills, I’ll definitely rep our school and take the national championship!"

"Sorry, but I’m the ace of Shohoku!"

"Should I dye my hair red then?"

They bantered back and forth, unaware that these clubs weren’t open to just anyone. There were tryouts, and only those who met the standards could stay.

As for Lin Mo? In his past life, he’d been cut.

Rejected students had to return to their classrooms for self-study.

Just as Lin Mo took out the equipment, Jiang Yunlu came running over, clutching her badminton racket.

Today, she’d brought her own gear—a carbon-fiber racket with composite string, practically a legendary weapon in a high school setting.

"Lin Mo! Today, I’ll redeem myself!"

The girl’s inner chuunibyou flared up.

Lin Mo figured he had nothing better to do, so he grabbed one of the school’s heavy iron rackets.

Jiang Yunlu’s racket could be lifted with a single finger.

The school’s racket? Pure iron, edges slightly rusted, though the nylon strings were durable.

Against her "legendary blade," his might as well have been a wooden sword.

"Alright, bring it on."

Jiang Yunlu didn’t just use her premium racket—she also brought high-end shuttlecocks costing hundreds per tube.

Rich kids stayed rich kids.

But at this age, most didn’t pay much attention to such things.

Lin Mo played as usual, feeding her easy shots.

Jiang Yunlu, however, stopped going for smashes, and the two fell into a rally, exchanging hits evenly.

The pace quickened steadily.

A small crowd gathered to watch.

Most of the girls who weren’t into sports spectated from the sidelines.

Badminton was surprisingly intense—constant sprinting, jumping, and swinging made it a high-energy workout.

After just over ten minutes, Jiang Yunlu was exhausted.

She hadn’t scored a single point.

Lin Mo was like an unstoppable wall, returning every shot.

Her misses were all due to misjudgment.

"I can’t—I’m done," Jiang Yunlu gasped, racket drooping, cheeks flushed, sweat gluing strands of hair to her face.

"Ten minutes of this felt worse than four whole classes."

She plopped unceremoniously onto the flowerbed ledge, not caring if her pants got dirty.

Seeing this, Lin Mo set his racket down too.

It had been a decent warm-up.

Others, inspired by their intense match, wanted to try badminton next.

As she sat, Jiang Yunlu turned to Lin Mo.

"Are you joining the badminton team? You’d be amazing."

Truth was, Lin Mo knew he’d excel at any sport.

Beating the likes of Ling Dan or Li Zhongwei would be child’s play.

So he shook his head.

"Nah, I’m not going the sports route."

It was clear he could—but no one could force him.

Dissection was off the table, but a physical checkup? That was unavoidable.

Who knew what the results would reveal?

Lin Mo wasn’t willing to take that risk—at least not until he’d fully cultivated his abilities.

He doubted he could survive a nuke yet.

Laying low was the wise path.

Meanwhile, over at the basketball court, a few 3v3 games were still going.

But basketball involved physical contact, and since the players weren’t all that familiar, collisions sometimes sparked tension.

Su Mingzhao knocked a guy named Lin Ziye flat on the court.

Lin Ziye was on the shorter side but quick and agile.

Against Su Mingzhao’s bulk, though, he stood no chance.

One bump sent him flying.

That kind of charging foul was blatant.

Lin Ziye scrambled up, jabbing a finger at Su Mingzhao.

"Are you here to play ball or fight?"

Su Mingzhao cradled the ball, sneering. "Physical play’s part of the game. Can’t handle it? Go home and play with your Barbies."

Lin Ziye stepped forward. "You looking for a fight?!"

His teammates closed in—they’d been middle school buddies and had his back.

Su Mingzhao’s two temporary teammates, however, stayed out of it. They weren’t fans of his attitude anyway.

Unfazed, Su Mingzhao puffed his chest and shoved back.

Jiang Daming’s sharp eyes caught the commotion instantly.

Or rather, he’d been keeping a close watch on the basketball court.

Teenage testosterone was a recipe for disaster.

"Hey! What’s going on?!"

A single bark from him made the near-brawlers scatter.

Fighting wasn’t the issue—doing it in front of a teacher meant possible disciplinary action.

They backed off fast.

Lin Ziye shot Su Mingzhao a final glare.

"Watch yourself."