Mu Lan and Beng Zeng trudged toward school, utterly exhausted. All they wanted was to slump into their desks and sleep through class—the only place they could rest without guilt.
They reached the school gates in just ten minutes. Glancing at the clock, they saw that Technical Botany started in five. Without stopping anywhere, they hurried straight to class.
Slipping into the classroom, they took their usual seats in the middle-back row, dropped their heads onto their desks, and closed their eyes. Beng Zeng was snoring within seconds.
Mu Lan, however, couldn't sleep—not yet. His eyes drifted to the girl sitting diagonally across from him: Xia Lei.
Her silver hair fell just past her shoulders. Framed by that pale cascade were two striking green eyes that seemed to glow with quiet intelligence. Her figure was the kind that haunted teenage boys' dreams.
Mu Lan had fallen for her at first sight in his past life—but he'd never dared speak to her. That silence had haunted him for years. This time, he vowed, he wouldn't repeat that mistake.
But not today.
Just seeing her—alive, real, here—was enough for now. With a soft sigh, Mu Lan finally let exhaustion pull him under.
—
The teacher entered, greeted the class, and began the lesson.
About thirty minutes later, a sharp shout jolt Mu Lan awake.
"What happened?" he mumbled, blinking up at the furious instructor.
The entire class froze. No one spoke to Teacher Li like that. Who did this kid think he was?
Whispers rippled through the room. Some students pitied him. Others braced for impact.
"How dare you sleep in my class!" the teacher barked.
Mu Lan yawned lazily. "Your lecture isn't exactly thrilling. And we're exhausted. Just let us sleep. You can teach the others."
The teacher's eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'll allow it—but only if you prove you deserve that privilege. Answer my question correctly, and you—and your friend—can sleep through my class for the rest of the semester. Fail, and I'll call your parents and have you both expelled."
Mu Lan smirked. He'd seen this before. Last time, another student had dozed off—and the teacher had pulled the exact same stunt. It was his favorite game. After all, no one ever knew the answers… and a gambler who never loses has nothing to fear.
"Go ahead," Mu Lan said. "Ask your question."
The teacher leaned forward, confident he'd won. "Since we haven't covered this yet—answer this: What is the most important breakthrough in Technical Botany? Get it right, and sleep all you want."
Mu Lan didn't hesitate. "The core of Technical Botany is genetic fusion—merging plants or fruits to create entirely new species. For example, fusing a banana and an orange to produce a single fruit that carries the taste of both. Imagine an apple that tastes like banana and orange—doesn't that sound incredible? That's the pinnacle of the field. Beyond flavor, it's also about maximizing yield, resilience, and nutritional value through hybridization."
Silence.
The teacher stared. The class gaped. No one—not even the top students—knew that. How could Mu Lan, the quiet, scrawny kid in the back, know something not yet taught?
Mu Lan sat up slightly. "If there are no more questions… I'm going back to sleep. Don't disturb us until lunch."
He laid his head down again. Beside him, Beng Zeng puffed out his chest proudly before flopping back onto the desk—now officially entitled to nap.
—
They slept soundly until lunchtime.
Starving from their morning run and training, they headed straight to the cafeteria. Their bodies demanded fuel—and lots of it.
They grabbed one tray each… then a second… then a third.
By the fifth tray, they finally felt their energy returning.
The cafeteria buzzed with whispers. Students snapped photos. Beng Zeng eating five plates? Fine—he's built like a tank. But Mu Lan? The skinny kid? No one saw that coming.
Full at last, they left the cafeteria and made their way to the school rooftop—their secret training ground. With afternoon classes still an hour away, they had time to condition their bodies further. The more they trained now, the stronger they'd be when the game launched.
For thirty minutes, they drilled—stances, strikes, footwork—applying everything from Old Martial Arts and Ten Thousand Kicks in One Strike. They even exchanged light sparring blows. After all, the best way to train the body was through controlled combat.
When the bell rang, they returned to class, finished their last two lessons without incident, and headed home.
The countdown to Defying the God's full launch had begun—and until then, every second would be spent forging their bodies into weapons.
Back at their apartment, they resumed training where they'd left off. Sweat, sore muscles, and laughter filled the room.
This life was different.
This time, they wouldn't waste a single moment.