Street Challenge

After lunch, the afternoon was free time.

In the final year of high school, aside from monthly holidays, weekends only offered half a day off in the afternoon.

Half a day was precious, and most students chose to relax.

Wang Xian left school, planning to go home and log into the solo arena to hone his Flowing Water Blade technique.

To be honest,

martial arts were incredibly addictive.

Especially the exhilaration of mastering power.

On top of that, Wang Xian could clearly sense his own progress and his deepening understanding of blade techniques.

It almost made him want to immerse himself in it endlessly.

However, just a few steps outside the school gates,

a crisp voice called out to him:

"Wang Xian!"

The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar.

Wang Xian turned slightly and saw a little girl standing by the roadside, gazing at him with bright eyes.

The girl wore a light blue wool coat, fluffy as if wrapped in clouds from the sky. Below, she had on a black pleated skirt, paired with black fleece leggings and ankle boots—a stylish and playful outfit that made it easy to overlook her age.

Especially since girls matured early, and with the boost from her shoes, she appeared to be around five feet tall.

Add to that her delicate face beneath a knitted beret, and it was hard not to glance her way.

"It's you?" Wang Xian took one look and immediately recognized her—the kid he'd rescued from the ruins when the Storm King Falcon attacked.

Wait.

A seven- or eight-year-old dressing like this already?

Wang Xian glanced down at his school uniform, then at the sea of blue-and-white around him, momentarily lost for words.

"Hehe…"

She skipped over, her snow-white face beaming. "I knew you wouldn’t forget me!"

"How do you know my name?" Wang Xian asked, looking down at the kid who barely reached his shoulders. He was puzzled—he didn’t recall giving his name that day.

"I asked around."

"?"

"I stood at your school gate and asked the seniors if there was a guy about six feet tall, good-looking but a bit sharp-tongued, with terrible grades."

"Someone said their class had one—named Wang Xian."

"I asked where he sat. They said by the window in the back row."

"Ha! I figured it had to be you."

"And when you walked out, I called your name, and you stopped!"

The girl chattered away. "See? Pretty clever, right?"

Too clever.

You’re way too fearless around strangers.

"How did you know my grades are bad?" Wang Xian said dryly.

"That day in the ruins, I could see your life force was really tiny at first," the girl said smugly. "Probably just 0.1 or 0.2."

"At your age, with that little life force, it means your innate potential is low—no future in martial arts, so your grades must be terrible too."

"……"

Wang Xian’s face was expressionless.

You’ve got me pegged.

"Hey… it’s fine! Small is cute too…" The girl patted his arm, offering generous consolation.

"You can see my life force?" Wang Xian asked.

Life force was usually only measurable with specialized equipment.

Or, like him, through vast experience in judging it.

"Yep, I can sense it," the girl nodded. "Everyone can kinda sense it, but not as numbers—more like colors, different shades…"

Here, she gave Wang Xian a strange look but didn’t elaborate.

"Did you awaken a martial talent naturally?" Wang Xian studied her, considering the possibility.

Back in the ruins, when she mentioned seeing the crowd outside, he’d suspected as much.

If true, she was something extraordinary.

"Shh!" The girl glanced around but didn’t answer.

Wang Xian didn’t press further.

Naturally awakened martial talents were rare, practically national treasures, but he’d met a few in his past life.

"Why’d you come find me today?"

"To play with you!"

The girl tilted her head up. "I know seniors get half a day off in the afternoon! Can you spend it with me?"

Wang Xian was about to refuse, but the hopeful glint in her eyes gave him pause.

"I’ve got things to do this afternoon—"

Before he could finish—

"Spend the afternoon with me, and I’ll give you a million."

"…It’s nothing that important." Wang Xian nodded immediately. "Fine."

The girl lit up with joy.

"Call me Little Xi!"

"Let’s go, let’s go!"

"Off we go!"

Little Xi grabbed Wang Xian’s hand and tugged him excitedly down the street.

On the other side of the road, inside a luxury car:

"Cheng Wu, is that the boy who saved Little Xi?"

A dignified woman peered through the window at the two retreating figures, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes."

Cheng Wu subtly wiped sweat from his brow, the tension in the car palpable.

His gaze flickered to the reluctant-looking boy.

"He seems… ordinary."

The woman gave a slight nod.

Cheng Wu exhaled in relief. "Absolutely. The kid acted purely out of courage."

"No ulterior motives. His background’s clean too—parents passed when he was young, and his legal guardian is his uncle…"

"Besides, there’s no way he could’ve known your daughter."

"Hm." The woman fell silent, then turned her gaze to the school gates. "If not for that, Old Bai wouldn’t have come here…"

The afternoon flew by.

This kid’s energy is insane…

Wang Xian was dragged all over the place—arcades, amusement parks, street food stalls.

And the girl could eat.

She munched nonstop, sampling every snack in sight: skewers, fried chicken, crispy pancakes, bubble tea. If it smelled good, she demanded it.

Didn’t matter if she finished it.

If she didn’t like a bite, she’d just shove it at Wang Xian.

Sure, he’d been to these places countless times and eaten all this before.

But Little Xi acted like it was her first.

Her excitement lasted a solid two to three hours.

"Wang Xian, Wang Xian! I want that!"

On the street, Little Xi—holding a spiral potato skewer—suddenly brightened at the sight of something.

Wang Xian, already stuffed, followed her gaze.

A stall.

On it, bold letters read:

[Extreme Challenge: 10 Attempts]

A crowd surrounded it, blocking the details, but Wang Xian could guess—it was probably one of those classic street challenges.

The kind that’s nearly impossible but offers great prizes.

Little Xi had her eyes on the reward display: an adorable snow leopard pendant.

Moving closer, they observed and quickly grasped the rules.

Simple:

Punch ten times.

The hard part? No martial talents allowed.

That was the stall owner’s rule.

For example, the stall owner demands that you hit with exactly 350 pounds of force—no more, no less.

If you get it right all ten times, you’ll win the grand prize.

The force gauge is a standard small-scale model.

“Seems a bit tricky…” Little Xi muttered with a frown, taking a bite of her potato chip.