The conversation in the yard stretched on for a long while — Hao Ming, briefly and without embellishment, told him about the ten years in the Rocky Mountains: the monsters, the hunger, the sea of blood, the rule against killing without need, learned through his own mistake.
Xiao Yu listened without interrupting, only nodding occasionally, and by the end of the story his face carried an incredibly complex expression — a whole spectrum of conflicting emotions he didn't even try to hide.
"Thanks for telling me," he finally said, standing up and brushing off his pants. "It's late — you can finish the food at home. The mosquitoes are going to eat us both alive otherwise, and dying from a bug bite the night before classes isn't exactly how I want to go."
Hao Ming looked at him silently, then at the tray of food.
"I'll sit a little longer."
Xiao Yu gave a final nod and headed home.
His house had its own kind of coziness — cluttered, but lived-in: clothes scattered around, a couple of forgotten reed stalks on the windowsill, daggers propped carelessly against the wall by the entrance.
He lay down on the bed in silence, staring at the ceiling.
Thoughts usually came to him quickly — he'd always been secretly proud of that, though he'd never admit it out loud: the ability to break down any situation into its parts in a split second, find an angle, figure out how to turn a conversation to his advantage. Information was his element, the way wind was his Spirit.
But right now, he wasn't in a hurry.
He replayed Hao Ming's story over and over in his head — his words, his expression, his voice, the tone he'd used to describe monstrous things as though reciting a shopping list. No tremor in his voice. No pause to steady himself against the memory. Just facts, laid out one after another, like stones.
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He tried to imagine himself in Hao Ming's place — even for a single day, even for a single hour in those mountains — and couldn't. Without any power of his own, he would have died the moment he ran into the first monster.
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"I wonder if Uncle Hu Cheng even fully understands this," Xiao Yu muttered, frowning into the darkness.
He lay there in silence a while longer, letting the thought settle, before it finally resolved into something more complete.
<
Xiao Yu kept staring at the ceiling for a long while, as if waiting for his own thoughts to hand him some excuse for a next step. Finally, a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips.
"Heh-heh. I actually envy his resilience."
<
His gaze drifted to the window, where the forest lay dark outside. Looking at the trees, he found himself unwillingly recalling his home planet — the scent of blooming gardens, the rustle of wind through the canopy, too similar to this place not to scratch at something inside him.
"I wonder how Yuanen Huihui's doing," he said aloud. "Though there's no point guessing. He probably hates me."
He sighed quietly, closed his eyes — and, against all expectation, fell asleep almost instantly, as though Hao Ming's story had somehow, that night, lightened his own burden too.
The next morning began more calmly than the last — without a single shout. Hu Cheng simply walked out into the yard and looked over all seven of them, already gathered before he'd even arrived.
"Right, yesterday I had to postpone the first lesson" — he nodded toward Hao Ming, Hui Mi, and Zhou Shengyang — "but now, happily, or unhappily for you, I can tell you: today's the real first lesson. I'll train each of you differently. Sometimes solo, sometimes in pairs, sometimes as a group."
He turned to Sheng Ming.
"Sheng Ming, your training will focus on endurance, evasion, and reaction speed. Your healing abilities are incredible. But even though you're a support-type, no one can protect you all the time — you'll also be target number one out there. You have a defensive Spirit Skill, but you can't rely on it constantly. So it's better for you to avoid getting hit in the first place. Leave things as they are, and in a prolonged fight, you'll become a liability instead of an asset."
Sheng Ming nodded eagerly.
"Right!"
Hu Cheng shifted his gaze to Hui Mi.
"Pup, you need control. Not over your lightning — over yourself. Your power's decent, but you use it on emotion instead of a clear head. As long as your feelings sit above your judgment, you'll never unlock your full potential."
Hui Mi frowned but didn't argue — for his own good.
"Zhou Shengyang," Hu Cheng gave him a more careful, appraising look than the others. "Your strength's fine, no arguing with that after yesterday. But your striking technique and footwork..." he shook his head. "You rely on raw power too much. And you're too arrogant besides. Remember: even the weakest can cause you a mountain of trouble if you underestimate them. Power alone doesn't decide everything. Technique is going to be the core of your training."
Zhou Shengyang said nothing, only his jaw tightening slightly — the criticism stung his pride more than he let on. But since the words came from Hu Cheng himself, a man he genuinely respected, there was nothing to do but accept them in silence.
"Xiao Yu," Hu Cheng turned to him, "you're lacking in offensive power. You've got speed, your evasions are excellent, your footwork's nearly flawless, and your read on a fight is solid too. But you've only got the one offensive Spirit Skill. You simply don't have enough real striking power."
Xiao Yu was well aware of this shortcoming himself — he'd just never had the talent or a teacher willing to take it seriously.
"Qin Ye..." Hu Cheng let his gaze rest on her for a moment. "Honestly, you're already close to perfect as it is. So for now, help train the others."
Qin Ye nodded.
Hu Cheng's gaze lingered on Jin Luo far longer than it had on the others.
"As for you," he said honestly, "I still don't know how to approach your training. Your power's too nonlinear for a standard method. But I can tell you one thing for certain: focus on the density of your spirit power. Right now it's spread far too thin. You don't feel it yet, but over time it'll get harder and harder to unlock your potential — and if you don't deal with it now, you might never reach godhood at all."
Jin Luo cracked one eye open, gave a lazy, indifferent nod, and closed it again.
"For now, think over what I've said," Hu Cheng concluded, sweeping his gaze across the group. "If anyone has their own thoughts, feel free to voice them."
Once he'd finished with the others, he waved a hand toward Hao Ming.
"You — with me."
They walked a short distance away from the group, to where the others' voices faded into indistinct murmur. Hu Cheng stopped, crossed his arms, and studied Hao Ming for a moment, as though deciding where to begin a conversation he'd clearly prepared in advance.
"How are you feeling?" he finally asked, without his usual carefree tone.
"Fine," Hao Ming answered.
"Wounds healed?"
"As you can see."
Hu Cheng nodded — the expected answer, but clearly not the one he'd pulled him aside for.
"Hao Ming," he paused, choosing his words carefully. "What happened to you during yesterday's fight? Where did your strength go? Your regeneration? Your reaction time? At first I thought you were holding back. But by the end of the fight, I realized you were actually getting weaker."
Hao Ming thought for a moment. He could feel it clearly on his own body — the weight of invisible chains, wrapped around every part of him, cinching something deeper than skin. Having broken one yesterday, he'd only regained a fraction of his former strength — if he was being honest, no more than twenty or thirty percent of what he used to have.
In his current state, he was far weaker than Hu Cheng. He wasn't even entirely sure he could have beaten the combined force of Hui Mi and Zhou Shengyang. Yesterday's victory had only come because both opponents had been pushed to their absolute limit by that point — not because he'd become who he used to be again.
"I don't know myself," he said finally, honestly, without trying to hide anything. "I feel like something's pressing down on me. My strength just seems to evaporate on its own. I can feel something like chains on my body — they showed up yesterday, or maybe earlier. I managed to break one of them. Right now I've got back around twenty percent."
Hu Cheng stayed silent longer than usual, weighing what he'd heard. His face, usually easy to read — cheerful one moment, irritated the next — now stayed unreadable, as though he were turning over a dozen theories at once and in no hurry to voice any of them.
"Chains, huh," he repeated quietly, more to himself than to Hao Ming. "Can you describe them more precisely? Can you see them? Can you touch them?"
Hao Ming shook his head.
"No, I can't see them. And I can't grab them either. If I could, I'd put everything into breaking them. But I can feel them wrapped around my arms, my legs, my neck. Judging by the feel, there are nine or ten of them."
Hu Cheng nodded slowly, clearly fitting this into something he already knew or suspected, though he wasn't in a hurry to share it out loud.
"Alright," he said at last, and for the first time his voice carried an unfamiliar gravity, without a trace of his usual joking. "I have some thoughts about what's happening to you. But before I tell you anything for certain, I need to discuss it with someone. I'm not going to throw out half-baked theories and confuse you."
Hao Ming nodded silently, waiting for him to continue.
"Until then," Hu Cheng's tone softened slightly, "try getting closer to your teammates. Not because it sounds nice — because you genuinely need it. They could end up meaning a lot more to you than you think right now."
He looked Hao Ming directly in the eyes.
"Let's go."
Hao Ming flinched, just for a moment.
<
"What are you standing around for, come on," Hu Cheng repeated.
Hao Ming nodded and started walking.