Have you ever woken from one nightmare only to find yourself trapped in another?
For Chen Fan, that was his current reality.
“Chen Fan!”
A sharp voice cracked through the classroom, jolting him awake.
Chen Fan looked up, his face slack with the bewildered fog of a rude awakening.
On the podium, a middle-aged man adjusted his glasses, fixing Chen Fan with a furious glare.
“There are less than two hundred days until the college entrance exams, and you have the audacity to sleep in my class?”
“With your grades, you won’t even get a job on a construction site!”
“Do you have any idea what the minimum Blood Qi Value for a cement worker is these days?”
“0.8! Is your Blood Qi Value even at 0.8?!”
Chen Fan lowered his head, rubbing his throbbing temples and weathering the verbal storm.
A chubby boy to his left leaned over, whispering, “Another nightmare?”
Chen Fan nodded grimly. A wave of helplessness washed over him, too deep for words.
The same dream had plagued him for three nights running.
He couldn’t describe it, not really. Only fragments remained: a dilapidated, desolate landscape that bled all color from the world. He was always standing alone in a wasteland, surrounded by roaming monsters…
It was a nightmare. Of that, Chen Fan was certain.
Because the dream left him perpetually exhausted, his sleep utterly ravaged. Despite sleeping for more than a dozen hours a day, he felt as if he hadn’t slept at all.
The exhaustion had taken its toll. In the last three days, Chen Fan's Blood Qi Value had dropped by 0.02.
0.02…
How many pills, how many days of brutal training, would it take to earn that back?
Chen Fan’s mood was foul.
— — —
After the final bell, Chen Fan slung his bag over his shoulder and trudged out of the school building.
At that moment, a voice called his name from behind, and a moment later someone stepped into his path.
“Chen Fan, want to hit the net cafe?”
It was the chubby boy from class, Zhao Zhiyuan, one of Chen Fan’s few friends.
Chen Fan just shook his head. “No, I’m heading home.”
“Home so early? That’s not like you. Come on, I’ll cover everything today.” Zhao Zhiyuan declared, thumping his chest.
But Chen Fan shook his head again. “I’m just not feeling it. I need to go home and catch up on sleep.”
“You slept through class all day and you’re still sleepy?” Zhao Zhiyuan gaped at him in disbelief.
Chen Fan didn’t bother explaining. He just waved a hand and started walking away.
Zhao Zhiyuan opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off as several other boys jogged over.
“Zhao Zhiyuan, you coming or not?”
“Yeah, yeah, right there!”
Zhao Zhiyuan shot Chen Fan a final, questioning look before turning to run off with his other friends.
Chen Fan watched them go, a lone rock in a river of students. Floods of black and blue school uniforms streamed past him, rushing for the gates before scattering into the city's bustling streets.
Whew—
Chen Fan let out a slow breath, his thoughts beginning to swirl.
He’d been living in this world for nearly eighteen years, and sometimes, he almost forgot. The memories of his past life were faded now, like a dream he’d had over and over since childhood—not unlike the new nightmare that plagued him now.
“No home… no car… alone… a white coat… hiking… falling off a cliff… waking up…”
He murmured the fragments under his breath, his eyes growing distant and hollow as he reached the final word.
“Crossing…”
That’s right. Chen Fan had crossed over.
His previous world had no martial arts, no monsters clawing their way out of cracks in the earth. The evening news reported on politics and traffic, not monster attacks and martial arts duels. The greatest headache for a student wasn't their Blood Qi Value, Combat Power Index, or Practical Combat Class scores, but an endless barrage of math, science, and foreign language exams.
Sometimes Chen Fan missed that world. At least it was…
Quiet and peaceful.
Chen Fan pushed open the door to his home.
He found his father, Chen Jiang, lying shirtless and face-down on the sofa while his mother, Sun Lian, carefully applied a medicinal plaster to his back.
Chen Fan’s gaze fell on his father’s back, a patchwork of old and new injuries. A familiar ache tightened his chest. “I’m home,” he called out.
“Hungry? Grab an apple. Dinner will be ready soon,” Sun Lian said, pressing the plaster firmly against his father's skin.
Chen Fan shook his head and dragged his bag toward his room. He stopped midway, turning back to the sofa. “Maybe we should get one of those Qi massage devices?” he murmured. “They’re supposed to help stimulate Qi flow and relax the muscles. Good for injuries. My classmate’s family has one…”
“What injury? It's just a scratch. I'll be fine in a few days,” Chen Jiang grunted, struggling to turn his head to look at him. “Better to save that money for your cultivation pills.”
His father’s gaze sharpened. “How is your Blood Qi Value lately? Have you passed 0.85 yet? I saw on the news that the minimum for the undergraduate score line on this year's college entrance test went up by 0.01…”
“I know. I’m going to my room to practice now.”
The words made Chen Fan's stomach clench. He mumbled the excuse and beat a hasty retreat to his room.
He didn't have the nerve.
If Chen Jiang found out his Blood Qi Value hadn't just stalled but had actually dropped, he’d probably spring up from that sofa, injury and all, and beat him with a shoe.
— — —