Chapter 3: Physical Education

There wasn’t much time to dwell on emotions. Not long after Zhang Yu returned to the classroom, the math teacher—wearing black-rimmed glasses—walked in carrying a stack of graded exams.

“Today, we’ll go over the last test.”

“Pass out the papers.”

“Check your mistakes. I’ve told you a hundred times: if you don’t understand something, come ask me. Yesterday afternoon, I sat in my office for three hours—no one came.”

Just as the papers were finishing being handed out, the towering, muscular physical education teacher, Wang Hai, strode into the classroom. He glanced at the math teacher and said, “You’re sick.”

After dismissing the ill math teacher, Wang Hai turned to the students. “This class is now PE.”

“But don’t forget to review math on your own. The General Knowledge Course accounts for fifty points in the college entrance exam—every single point can make or break your ranking.”

“Speaking of that,” he added, “I’ve already spoken to your Chinese teacher. The next period will also be changed to PE. Combined with your regular PE class, the entire morning is now mine.”

The students followed Wang Hai to the indoor training hall, where they were greeted by a space as vast as a plaza, filled with a wide array of training equipment.

“Cultivation at the Qi Refining Realm—the first stage of Dao cultivation—is all about laying a solid foundation. How strong that foundation is in your first year will determine how high you can climb in your final two years.”

As Zhang Yu took in the familiar scene, fragments of memory surged forward from his mind.

Since the Ten Great Sects consolidated Dao cultivation into a systematic framework, the art of cultivation had become a vast, comprehensive discipline covering every aspect of Dao techniques—so intricate, it was like an endless ocean.

The most well-known part of this system was the Ten Dao Realms.

The key indicators determining which realm a cultivator could reach were Dao Heart Level and Mana Level.

For high school students, only those who had crossed the 10th level of Dao Heart and whose Mana exceeded 60 points could break through from the Qi Refining Realm into the Foundation Establishment Realm.

This high school PE class was designed to forge the body and temper the will.

After all, a strong physique not only boosted the efficiency of mana cultivation, but also strengthened the mental resilience needed for high Dao Heart Levels—and enhanced combat effectiveness in the Qi Refining Realm.

If Dao Heart and Mana were the foundation of Dao cultivation, then Physical Strength Level—the metric measured in PE—was the foundation of the foundation.

At that moment, waves of light swept across the students’ bodies, instantly displaying their Physical Strength Levels on a large screen nearby, ranked from highest to lowest.

1st: Qian Shen — Physical Strength Level 1.15

2nd: Bai Zhenzhen — Physical Strength Level 1.13

3rd: He Dayou — Physical Strength Level 1.12

…

Zhang Yu didn’t see his name until he reached 19th place.

19th: Zhang Yu — Physical Strength Level 0.82

In Kunxu, Dao techniques had evolved to the point where every metric was now finely quantified.

Physical Strength Level wasn’t just measured—it was retested every single PE class.

And like Dao Heart Level, this stat capped at 10 levels within the Qi Refining Realm.

Though Physical Strength Level wasn’t a decisive factor in breaking through to the next realm, it directly impacted cultivation efficiency and combat power—making it a cornerstone of Dao studies.

It accounted for 150 out of the 650 points in Dao subjects.

“Physical Strength Level down to 19th?” Zhang Yu stared at the screen, recalling how his progress had been steadily overtaken by others.

Around him, students were pulling out syringes and jabbing them into their arms, injecting various performance-enhancing supplements into their veins.

These supplements—offered by different brands—didn’t just strengthen muscles and bones. They boosted training efficiency by several to tenfold.

For high school students, these drugs were mandatory.

You could skip a day of training—but not a day without a shot.

Top students often injected eight or more times a day.

Zhang Yu watched as Bai Zhenzhen, a petite girl, quickly administered nine injections across her buttocks, arms, and thighs.

Yet, compared to the towering, muscular figures around her, she looked small. Zhang Yu remembered: their bodybuilding methods differed, which is why their physiques were so different.

Wang Hai, noticing Zhang Yu hadn’t injected yet, frowned and walked over. “Zhang Yu, how long has it been since your last performance enhancer?”

Zhang Yu didn’t dare admit he was broke.

At Songyang High School, being unable to afford supplements was as shameful as having poor grades.

Only someone he trusted—like Bai Zhenzhen—would ever hear such a truth.

And then, fragmented memories flooded back: the original Zhang Yu had pushed his body too hard with drugs. His internal organs and cardiovascular system were strained beyond limits, collapsing multiple times—nearly killing him.

So Zhang Yu mumbled, “I want to try going without drugs for a while.”

Wang Hai’s expression darkened instantly.

“Are you watching those influencers again—those ‘natural bodybuilding’ fakes who claim you can thrive without drugs? They’re all lies! How do you expect to keep up without them?”

“You’ve dropped so many ranks! If you keep this up, you’ll be kicked out of the Model Class during the next Monthly Exam.”

His voice thundered, frustrated. “Do you think I’m pushing you to take these drugs for my own benefit? I don’t gain any meat from it!”

He pointed sharply at a student in the distance. “Look at Qian Shen—twelve injections of Dragon-Elephant Preparation daily to build muscle and bone, two Painkiller shots to dull the agony of muscle growth, two Taotai Li injections to speed up metabolism and absorb Dao elements from food. He eats fifteen pounds of food a day to gain weight.”

“In just three months, his Physical Strength Level skyrocketed from 0.13 to 1.15—now the strongest body in the first year. You’d need twenty years of natural training to match that.”

As Wang Hai spoke, Zhang Yu remembered how Qian Shen had gone from under 1.7 meters and skinny to a two-meter-plus, 300-pound giant in just three months.

Wang Hai then pointed to another student. “And look at Zhao Tianxing—once worse than you. Just two days ago, he broke through to 1.00 level. Now his blood is like molten lead, arteries hardened like steel, heart tripled in size.”

He swept his gaze across the room. “Zhang Yu, I’m telling you this because you used to be in the top ten. Your talent’s solid, your tolerance to drugs is exceptional. That’s why I’m giving you this talk.”

Seeing the genuine concern in Wang Hai’s eyes, Zhang Yu felt a pang of guilt.

But money was out of the question. And his body—already pushed to the edge—wasn’t ready for more drugs.

Just as he struggled to find a way to explain, Wang Hai pulled a box of serum from his bag.

“Three parts training, seven parts nutrition—everything else depends on how hard you jab.”

“This is the latest release from the Jin Gang Sect: Divine Elephant Power Performance Enhancer. Top-tier quality, one shot equals ten ordinary ones.”

“I’ll be honest—this was still in the lab. I got it from a friend. You’re talented, so I’ll give you an 80% discount—ten bottles for 8,800.”

Seeing Wang Hai pitch the drug like a salesperson, Zhang Yu suddenly remembered: half the supplements used by students in the class came from him.

And this wasn’t unusual at Songyang High School.

After all, in this world, body and medicine were inseparable.

Every PE teacher was both a master of physical training and a skilled drug dealer—often backed by multiple pharmaceutical channels.

But Zhang Yu couldn’t afford it.

And worse, his body couldn’t handle it.

He tried to brush it off with excuses.

Wang Hai narrowed his eyes, snorted coldly, and slid the box back into his bag.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

Then he turned and walked away, already moving toward another student, offering guidance—and sales.

Zhang Yu sighed helplessly.

This place is ridiculous… even PE is this hard?

Just then, a quiet voice came from beside him.

“Wang Hai trying to sell you again?”

The boy looked clean-cut, like a kind neighbor’s son.

Memories surged in Zhang Yu’s mind.

Zhou Tianyi.

He’d met Zhou Tianyi on the first day of school—his dining and study partner.

For three months, they’d eaten together, studied side by side, and built a fragile friendship.

But as the memories returned, Zhang Yu’s first thought was about Zhou’s rank.

Grade 25. Good enough to sit at my table… Wait—why do I care about rankings now?

He realized, with a jolt, that the more memories merged, the more he was being shaped by this world—its obsession with scores, status, and performance.

Zhou Tianyi waited.

Zhang Yu nodded. “Yeah. Tried to sell me the Divine Elephant Power.”

“You didn’t buy?” Zhou’s eyes widened. “You’re gonna get punished.”

“Punished?” Zhang Yu frowned. “Just not buying drugs—how bad is it?”

Zhou shook his head. “You wanna hear a rumor about Wang Hai?”

“No,” Zhang Yu said flatly. “I don’t do gossip.”

He turned and walked toward the training equipment, wanting to get familiar with his body and the class.

But Zhou persisted. “There’s a story—some teacher complained Wang Hai was… doing it in the office next door. The noise was so loud it cracked the ceiling.”

Zhang Yu froze.

He wasn’t a gossipmonger—but this was ridiculous.

He had to see what it was really about.

Zhou Tianyi continued. “Wang Hai said he wasn’t doing anything. The banging? He was punishing misbehaving students.”

“I asked former students. Turns out, Wang Hai’s always punished underperformers—especially those who didn’t buy his supplements.”

“Last year, one kid broke down mentally after being targeted.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes narrowed. “So… he’s never gotten in trouble?”

Zhou shrugged. “His teaching results are legendary. He’s the school’s top PE teacher—has produced three students who ranked first in Physical Strength Level citywide during the college entrance exam.”

“Some say he has access to experimental drugs from the major sects.”

“Even if the school wanted to fire him, parents and students wouldn’t let it happen. They depend on him to get their kids stronger.”

He turned to Zhang Yu, serious. “If you keep refusing the drugs, and your grades don’t improve, you’ll be next.”

Zhang Yu frowned.

Zhou Tianyi tilted his head. “Wait… you used to inject a lot too. Why stop now? You broke? Need money? I can lend you some.”

Zhang Yu smiled, but it was hollow. “No. Really, I’m fine.”

“Seriously?” Zhou insisted. “How about you just take one from me today?”

Zhang Yu shook his head violently.

He was terrified.

He knew from memory that countless people had been crippled—or even killed—by drug overdoses.

Songyang High School had more than one student each year who suffered severe injuries from overuse.

Yet, students kept coming—desperate to boost their Physical Strength Level.

And the original Zhang Yu?

He’d already shown signs of collapse last week.

Thinking of the original Zhang Yu, who’d left behind a debt of seven hundred thousand, and this battered body—Zhang Yu sighed again.

Just as they whispered, a cold voice cut through the air.

“PE class is not time for gossip.”

Wang Hai’s gaze swept over them.

Zhang Yu and Zhou Tianyi snapped to attention, each turning to their own training.

Zhang Yu approached a massive iron ball, tensed his muscles, and with a sudden surge of strength, lifted the 100-kilogram weight.

Then, as his muscles contracted and expanded, the iron ball spun effortlessly through the air—rotating, flipping, moving around his body like a toy.

With each motion, blood surged through his veins. Heat spread through his limbs.

Warm-up…

The entire routine felt instinctive—etched into his flesh and bone.

He didn’t need to think.

He just moved.

As the drills continued, Zhang Yu’s control over his body deepened.

Memories resurfaced.

“The physical training of the Qi Refining Stage focuses on forging muscles and bones—breaking limits through repetition, gradually increasing Physical Strength Level.”

“The most popular method among high schoolers? The Jianti Thirty-Six Forms.”

The Jianti Thirty-Six Forms was a cultivation technique created by the Ten Great Sects specifically for high school training.

Thirty-six movements, paired with different equipment—designed to comprehensively develop the body and boost Physical Strength Level.

Under the Ten Sects’ framework, all martial arts and Dao techniques were ranked from 1 to 100.

Most students at Songyang High School could master the basics of Jianti Thirty-Six Forms within a week or two—reaching level 1.

But raising it beyond that was far harder.

In Zhang Yu’s memory, only Bai Zhenzhen had reached level 2 in three months.

That’s why she could maintain her second-place rank with nine injections a day—barely trailing Qian Shen, who injected sixteen.

“Your Jianti level affects how fast you gain Physical Strength—but the real determinant of strength, and your PE grade, is your Physical Strength Level itself.”

“Funny thing—my 0.82 level lets me toss around hundreds of pounds like toys. But in the Qi Refining Realm, the maximum is 10. After Foundation Establishment, it can go up to 20.”

“The gap between people? Massive.”

Zhang Yu had only meant to warm up—just get used to the class and his body.

But as he continued the forms, his focus sharpened.

Something deep within him urged him on—pushing, driving, demanding persistence.

Muscles tore. Bones absorbed shock.

With every repetition, his body was shattered—then, slowly, a warm current surged from within, repairing the damage.

That was his internal mana.

Just like in the past months of PE—his body was broken, then healed, then stronger.

Whoosh.

Two hours passed.

Zhang Yu exhaled deeply, his entire body aching, as if every fiber were ready to fall apart.

“Now I understand why they need painkillers…”

He glanced at Bai Zhenzhen, still sweating and grinding away.

And around him, others were pushing themselves to the brink.

A sense of urgency rose within him—driving him to push harder, to extract every ounce of strength.

If this were the old world, I’d have died from this kind of training.

But here… with Dao medicines and mana to heal me… I can endure. I’m getting stronger.

The pain, the fire in his veins, the insatiable hunger to grow—Zhang Yu couldn’t help but marvel at the original Zhang Yu’s obsession.

But as the training continued, that deep, primal drive began to fade.

The future—his future—was no longer written in the past.

It was his to choose.

When the morning PE class finally ended, Zhang Yu collapsed onto the floor.

Around him, students still leapt, ran, trained—unfazed, alive, relentless.

Zhang Yu stared at them.

This is the difference—between those who use drugs, and those who don’t.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the black mark on his palm.

The dark stain—still not fully filled—now covered less than a quarter of the surface.

(End of Chapter

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end