Chapter Ten: Beyond Expectations

“Can you obtain the formula for the gene serum? Is your ability to run a 30-kilometer marathon due to the gene serum? What does it feel like?”

“Liu Meng is a key figure. At this moment, her attitude toward you is like a child with a new toy—there’s a sense of fondness, which is very important. This is where we need to begin. Look over these words and gestures, and rehearse the scenarios as if it’s just the two of you. Memorize them. Yes, exactly, it’s the classic beauty trap. A scoundrel? No, no, you’re overthinking it. Absolutely not. You’re single now, aren’t you? It’s just a relationship. Relax—don’t put too much pressure on yourself. The most important thing between two people is to be genuine, with no ulterior motives. She’s a very clever person. If you’re too calculating, it’ll only backfire…”

“Is there any way to obtain some basic information? For example, your current location, the map, which country or power you belong to, and other fundamental details. Right now, we’re flying completely blind, which makes it very difficult for us to analyze and understand the situation…”

“Do you always return on your own? According to analysis, you enter the Daoran World whenever you fall asleep, so your mind is constantly active, never truly resting. That’s why you’re so exhausted. When you fainted, you didn’t return to Azure Star, which means you were finally able to rest. From now on, your only chance to rest will be in the Daoran World. This time, try not to return on your own for three days. We need to confirm whether you’re able to remain in the Daoran World continuously. Don’t worry about your physical body—we’ll take good care of it…”

“What should you do when facing someone physically stronger than you? Don’t believe any nonsense about evening the playing field—physical condition is no longer important for people like us. We’re often in a state of utter exhaustion. For instance, if we both do a hundred push-ups, I’ll still be stronger than you afterward, and I’m used to this level of fatigue. Pushing our bodies to the limit is a regular thing for us; in fact, we often perform better when exhausted. That’s the difference in our upper limits. So, don’t listen to Xiong Shan when he says he’ll match your physical state. That’s just a warm-up for him. What you need to do is be unpredictable, catch him off guard, seize the initiative. In a fight, whoever strikes first has the upper hand.”

“Joint locks are the best way for someone with inferior physical strength to defeat a stronger opponent. Catching your opponent off guard and gaining the initiative is the very essence of joint locks. Remember, the most crucial thing in joint locks is ruthlessness—be ruthless to your opponent, and even more so to yourself. When you’re locking someone, their resistance will be excruciating, but you can’t let go. Use all your strength to try to break them or hold them in place. As long as you hold on, you win.”

“This time, our aim isn’t victory. When you truly can’t hold on, you can concede. All we want is for him to see your ferocity. If both sides are left battered and bruised, then we’ve already won.”

“There are many kinds of joint locks, but we’re only going to teach you one sequence. Remember this one routine. We’ve already simulated every possible response from Xiong Shan in exhaustive detail. Watch closely—you’ll need to circle behind him to launch your surprise…”

Li Daoran felt as if he were back in his senior year of high school, enduring rote, force-fed lessons. The last two hours of combat instruction nearly drove him mad. He certainly wasn’t going to spar with anyone, but to give him the most authentic experience, every demonstration he watched was a real, no-holds-barred fight.

There were a hundred sparring pairs; after two hours, all sixty participants were sent to the hospital. With today’s medical technology, none would recover in less than three months—at the very least, every injury involved a broken bone. Watching their faces pale with pain, some with bones visibly protruding, bruises covering their chests, snapped ribs, and arms swollen and bent at impossible angles, Li Daoran’s eyes brimmed with tears. He begged them to stop, refusing to continue learning.

But all of them were volunteers. Ignoring whether Li Daoran was watching or not, their determined eyes unwavering, they continued demonstrating, pair after pair, until he mastered the moves. Even if he refused to watch, they would run through the same match repeatedly. As a man, tears shouldn’t fall easily, but Li Daoran truly couldn’t hold back. After a bout of wailing, he could only work harder to memorize every detail, hoping the current pair could get treated sooner, and to spare more people from injury—if he didn’t learn, the next pair would inevitably suffer as well. In the end, Li Daoran managed to learn all the key techniques after only thirty pairs had demonstrated.

Instead of returning to rest in the villa’s third-floor room, Li Daoran was brought to a large underground medical facility and connected to various machines monitoring his physiological state. He closed his eyes.

Around him, more than a dozen medical personnel operated machines. Li Daoran felt nervous, unable to sleep, and thus unable to enter the Daoran World.

Soon, an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and a measured dose of anesthetic was injected—this was also an experiment to see if they could forcibly induce entry into the Daoran World. The dosage was strictly controlled, the doctor’s hand trembling as he administered it, until Chen Ming brusquely pushed the doctor aside and injected the anesthetic himself.

Li Daoran was soon under; in less than three seconds, he lost consciousness and entered the Daoran World.

Once again, fragmented images pieced themselves together. Although this entry was induced by anesthesia, it was no different from entering via sleep—he remained fully conscious, not lost in a drugged stupor.

The familiar live feed appeared as usual, relieving everyone on Azure Star who knew about this experiment. But almost immediately, their nerves tensed again in worry.

Li Daoran stretched his heavy limbs, glanced at Xiong Shan, who was still doing high-knee exercises, and felt as though it had been ages. He took a deep breath and said, “Coach Xiong, that’s enough. Let’s begin.”

Before Xiong Shan could respond, Li Daoran quickly circled behind him, wrapped his legs around one of Xiong Shan’s, and clasped his arms tightly around Xiong Shan’s left upper arm, pulling backward with all his might, his entire body hanging off the man.

But Xiong Shan’s reaction deviated from every scenario they’d prepared, catching Li Daoran off guard.

“Stop, stop! That hurts—what are you doing? Let go, let go!” Sweat beaded on Xiong Shan’s forehead, his face contorted in pain, uncertain how to counter or even resist. He simply shouted at the top of his lungs.

Li Daoran wasn’t sure if this was a tactic or something else, but he didn’t dare relax his grip, though he didn’t add more force, sensing Xiong Shan wasn’t resisting at all.

He asked, “Didn’t you say we should spar? If you surrender, I’ll let go.”

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Xiong Shan blurted out without thinking, “I surrender, I surrender! Let go!”

Li Daoran released him at once, retreating a safe distance.

Xiong Shan grimaced, clutching his left shoulder with his right hand, gently massaging it. His left arm swung limply for a while before he finally spoke.