Volume One, Chapter Four: Guiding Light

“Beep, beep... now we begin the warm-up before the short-distance sprint. When I call your student number, come over and line up, two in a group...” With a shrill whistle, the physical education teachers from each class began to organize the students in an orderly manner, marking the official start of the day-long monthly practical fitness test. Mo De, yawning and bleary-eyed, shuffled along with the crowd toward the testing track.

Practical physical training is now a major course that every university takes seriously. Except for those who can apply for exemption due to special circumstances, slogans urging everyone to exercise and strengthen their bodies hang prominently above every sports field. Survival is the ultimate goal. Every drop of sweat shed in practical fitness class may one day save your life. In today’s era where everyone prepares for battle, both physical strength and knowledge are crucial pillars of one's abilities. In this world, only the weak and the lucky can always remain protected by the rules.

“Bro... I don’t think I’ll live to see that beautiful holiday...” Wu Fatty sprawled on the grass, legs splayed, his body quivering with every breath, sweat soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Wu, the test hasn’t even started yet. Just the warm-up and you’re already down for the count?” Mo De teased, stretching as he sat next to Wu Fan, who was dripping with sweat.

“I’ve always preferred peace and quiet. As the Daoists say...” Wu Fan gasped, fanning himself by tugging at his collar.

“Enough with the nonsense. If you really can’t take it, call the school nurse. You’ve been eyeing those ladies for ages, and you’re built like an ox—no one would believe you’re sick enough for the infirmary.”

“You think... you think I’m like you, sick every other day? I just didn’t sleep well last night. Feeling a bit... weak...” Wu Fan took a few deep breaths and struggled to his feet with a hand on the ground. “Besides, how can I embarrass myself in front of the ladies... Help me up, will you?”

“If you don’t want to lose face, you’ll have to suffer for it.” Mo De hauled the big guy to his feet. “Come on, the first event is about to start, and I’m up early in the lineup. Move it!”

“Hey, hey, slow down!”

...

The setting sun cast its last rays, and the evening breeze stirred the dust. The day’s testing was no challenge for Mo De—he was naturally “healthy.” Half carrying, half supporting Wu Fan out of the school gates, he watched as the driver hurried over, took charge of his young master, and after a nod of thanks, slowly walked toward the parking lot.

After watching the driver stuff Wu into the car and drive away, Mo De stretched lazily, turned back toward his classroom, and sat at his desk. He picked up the sheets of results lying on the table and sighed.

Yesterday’s theoretical exam results were out, and as expected, he’d slipped a few ranks, barely clinging to the bottom of the middle tier, just above the passing line. The second sheet was today’s practical fitness scores. Ah, not bad—not bad at all. He’d managed it well this time, nothing out of the ordinary, all scores just behind the top tier. But when he flipped to the third sheet, Mo De scratched his face awkwardly. As always, utterly stable: his affinity with the Awakening Stone remained as cold as ever.

Admired from afar, never to be touched.

It was nothing unexpected. During the initial awakening phase, most notice a difference in themselves—a subtle, mysterious sense of disharmony, not illness or discomfort, but something else. This phase usually lasts from age twelve to sixteen, but experiencing it too early is not a good thing. Early awakening puts a great strain on an immature body, so most people focus on building theoretical knowledge and physical fitness during adolescence, gradually adapting without rushing to complete their first awakening.

Of course, that’s just “most people.” There are always exceptions. Those so-called prodigies aren’t bound by common rules. Before the school league introduced the twelve-year education system, many wanted to see if they were that one-in-a-million genius, only to be harshly slapped down by reality. Either their bodies collapsed under the pressure during awakening, or they couldn’t progress after awakening because their foundation wasn't solid enough.

Mo De, however, belonged neither to the majority nor to the rare geniuses. He simply... couldn’t awaken. His body was robust, he ate and slept well, and his innate survival instinct gave him a keen awareness of every detail and change in his physique. In all his years, Mo De had never felt even the slightest hint of that awakening disturbance, and every test since junior high had confirmed his intuition.

“At least this proves the Awakening Stone isn’t faulty...” Mo De muttered, finding solace in his disappointment.

He packed his bag, glanced at the clock hanging at the front of the classroom, walked over to the window, scanned the surroundings to make sure no one was around, then opened the window and leaped out.

It wasn’t that Mo De was reckless—the last bus was about to arrive.

“Damn Wu Fatty, always dragging his feet. I have to shuttle him around again.”

Like an eagle striking water, like a rabbit bounding through snow, the youth landed lightly and silently, then sprang toward the school gate. The wind pressed his uniform close to his not-so-slender frame. “I’d better get here early on Monday—or I’ll get scolded for leaving the window and door unlocked. Wait—driver, please, stop!”

The youth’s voice was free of burden.

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Mist veiled the mountain forest, the moon hung high in the sky. A solitary lamp shattered the silence of sleep, a shadow slipped across the mountain path. Before an unmarked gravestone the figure paused, gazing at the stone, weathered and smoothed by wind and rain, recalling that day when Changsheng entered the tide of life.

“Thanks for your care, everyone. I’m Li Changsheng—Li as in wood, Changsheng as in long-sighted and long-lived. I have no ambition, only the desire to survive; no great talent, only the ability to keep living. My only flaw is perhaps that I talk too much. Please forgive me...”

“It’s not just that you talk a bit too much—you’re a real chatterbox.” The woman in white, code-named “Tree,” lifted her veil and set it down on a nearby stone. “Back then, I didn’t know why you erected this unmarked gravestone. Turns out you’d planned your exit from the start.” She reached into her pocket for a pack of smoking cessation candies, took one out—a heavy silver lozenge. “Since you chose to leave this way, I suppose there won’t be another meeting. I’ve come to see you on their behalf, to say a formal goodbye.” Chewing slowly, the special candy flooded her body with silver particles, their excess temporarily calming her nerves.

“After this farewell, there will be no reunion.” Crushing the remaining candy and swallowing it, she set down her lantern, picked up her veil, and turned to leave. The surplus of silver particles dulled her senses, and her deep eyes reflected only moonlight and serenity. “Don’t worry about the child—he still has us.”

The night was cool as water, the autumn mist like gauze. Stars and moon hung together in the sky; below, a single lamp burned.

The lamp contained light.