Sparring Partner

Luo Yang stared at the man sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed for a long moment.

His father was Luo Changhe, a man whose titles alone were enough to intimidate most guests at a dinner party in the capital. In a place like the center of the Republic of Shenzhou, people were either in a meeting or on their way to one; jokingly, even the act of leaving the office building had to be scheduled in advance.

Yet here he was, sitting on Luo Yang’s sofa, blowing on the tea Yan Ya had brewed.

“...Dad, are you... skipping work?”

“What do you mean, skipping work?” Luo Changhe set his teacup down. “I took leave.”

Luo Yang raised an eyebrow.

“My old colleagues are easy enough to talk to,” Luo Changhe said, his tone softening slightly. “I told them something happened with my son, and if a father doesn't even show his face, they’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Luo Yang let out a short laugh and walked from the entryway into the living room. He sat down in the armchair next to his father, about half an arm’s length away.

Luo Changhe reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

His hand felt heavy. He didn't pull it back immediately, letting it rest there for a beat before slowly letting go.

“You’ve grown up.”

There was something in the depths of Luo Changhe’s eyes that Luo Yang could see but couldn't quite put into words.

It looked like relief, mixed with something else that wasn't nearly as light.

Luo Yang found himself at a loss for words.

When was the last time they had sat face-to-face like this? Luo Yang couldn't even remember clearly. Between then and now were six whole years of living in Yuanxing City, and a grandfather who had brought him south only to disappear himself.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, he only gave a single nod.

“Yeah.”

Over in the kitchen, the faucet was turned off.

Yan Ya emerged from around the corner carrying a shallow white porcelain plate. On it were neatly arranged slices of watermelon and apple. Yan Zhi followed half a step behind her, clutching a bottle of cola with the cap already loosened.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yan Ya said as she placed the plate on the coffee table, glancing at Luo Changhe. “The boy is perfectly fine. Look at that expression on your face.”

Only then did Luo Changhe fully withdraw his hand from Luo Yang’s shoulder.

He reached into a bag beneath the coffee table and pulled out a dark velvet pouch. He untied the silk drawstring, revealing two medals inside.

They had red ribbons and a gold base, with the emblem of the Yuanxing City Ability Bureau engraved right in the center.

Luo Changhe placed the two medals side-by-side on the coffee table in front of Luo Yang. The metal bases clinked against the glass surface with a sound that seemed heavier than the teacup from before.

“The battle in South City,” Luo Changhe said, “was noticed by those above.”

“I took it upon myself to apply for these on your behalf. There will also be material rewards processed through the official channels. Or, if there’s something specific you want, you can bring it up. As long as the value doesn't exceed the regulated limit, we can talk.”

Luo Yang blinked. He knew he hadn't done a bad job in that fight, but hearing his own father explicitly say the words “applied for medals” to his face felt a bit awkward.

“Uh...”

He was about to offer some polite formalities when Yan Ya spoke up from the side.

“Luo Yang,” she said, sitting on the armrest on the other side of Luo Changhe. She picked a piece of watermelon from the plate and handed it to Yan Zhi before looking back at him. “Don’t you have a friend who’s about to break through? You asked me for auxiliary materials before.”

Luo Yang froze for a beat. Yan Ya’s tone sounded casual, as if she were just mentioning it in passing.

“Why not take this opportunity,” she continued, “to trade your merit for some good items to give to them?”

Luo Yang frowned.

“Mom, didn't you already handle the arrangements for that?”

Yan Ya smiled. It was the kind of smile only a mother could have—half on her lips and half hidden in the fine lines at the corners of her eyes.

“Well, after all, it’s a gift for a girl.”

She drew out her words.

“Something that comes from your own hands feels different from something just taken from the family,” she said, her eyes curving. “The sentiment is different, you know?”

Luo Yang: “...”

The words sounded simple, but as he chewed on them, he realized the underlying meaning. He almost lost his composure.

Luo Changhe didn't interject. He just sat there holding his teacup, his gaze drifting between his son and his wife. He wasn't doing a very good job of hiding the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

Luo Yang quickly ran the numbers in his head.

First, he was currently at Clear Heart Level 4. He had no idea how long it would take to reach the next major realm, so his current merit was just sitting there; he might as well use it.

Second, he wasn't actually sure how much value he had created during that battle in South City. Judging by his father’s tone, it wasn't anything outrageously high. Trading it for some decent breakthrough materials seemed about right.

Third—

What Yan Ya said didn't seem entirely wrong, either.

He pursed his lips.

“...Fine.”

He agreed vaguely, offering no further explanation.

The smile in Luo Changhe’s eyes grew significantly. Without showing much on his face, he lowered his head and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen a few times to send out several messages.

At the other end of the coffee table, Yan Zhi was already putting a second piece of watermelon into her mouth.

Luo Yang also reached out and grabbed a piece. He had just taken a bite when the phone in his pocket vibrated.

He pulled it out with one hand. Two words were flashing on the screen.

Zhang Xian.

Luo Yang set the watermelon on the edge of the plate and swiped the screen. The moment the call connected, he brought it to his ear. The old man’s voice on the other end was anything but polite:

“Kid, get over to the academy. I have something to discuss with you.”

“Huh?” Luo Yang was still swallowing watermelon. “What is it? Can’t you just say it over the phone?”

“I can’t explain it clearly over the phone.”

Zhang Xian hung up as soon as he finished speaking. Luo Yang looked up to find three pairs of eyes watching him simultaneously.

The expressions on their faces were all roughly the same.

“What are you looking at?” Luo Yang stood up abruptly from the sofa. He kicked off his slippers at the entryway and pulled on his canvas shoes so fast it looked like he was being chased. “The principal wants me at the academy. I’m heading out.”

...

Academy training ground.

When Luo Yang pushed the doors open, the entire training ground was packed with people. On Field One, two students were sparring; the energy impacts made the perimeter railings rattle loudly. A crowd of onlookers had gathered around Field Two, where others were also dueling.

From Field Three and Four all the way to the training rooms at the far end of the facility, people were even sitting on benches in the hallways, panting as they wiped down their weapons.

Luo Yang did a rough estimate; there were at least fifty or sixty people.

And every single one of them was a familiar face—at least, they were all prominent figures he had seen on the academy forums or the Ladder Rankings.

On the bleachers not far away, Zhang Xian stood up from his seat. The old man’s hair was combed impeccably today, and a fox-like smile was plastered on his face.

This guy was definitely planning to take something from him.

“Ayo, Xiao Luo is here!”

Zhang Xian practically jogged down from the bleachers, moving at a speed that didn't match his age at all. He trotted over, reaching out to pat Luo Yang’s shoulder when he was still half a meter away.

Luo Yang instinctively took half a step back and raised an eyebrow. “What is all this?”

Zhang Xian immediately began dragging him toward the center of the training ground. “How’s your body? I heard you’re recovering quite fast. What’s your current status?”

Luo Yang was dragged along, his footsteps reluctant.

“Principal Zhang,” he interrupted the rapid-fire questions. “Just get to the point.”

Several gazes from both sides of the training ground were already swiveling toward him.

In his peripheral vision, Luo Yang spotted a familiar head of grayish-white hair. Qiu Shubai was standing by the railing of Field Two, holding a bottle of water while saying something to Tang Xuan. Hearing the commotion, she looked up and glanced his way.

Tang Xuan was blowing a bubble with her gum. She froze when she saw him, causing the bubble to pop with a loud “snap,” leaving the gum smeared across half her mouth.

Chu Zimo was leaning against a pillar further away with his hands in his pockets. He gave him a nod.

Li Qiang was standing next to Chu Zimo and gave him a wave.

Luo Yang clicked his tongue inwardly.

Quite the lineup.

“Xiao Luo.” Zhang Xian finally got to the point.

The old man dragged him to a relatively empty spot in the center of the training ground and came to a halt. Only then did he release his grip on Luo Yang’s arm.

“You know how things are with the academy league,” Zhang Xian said, gesturing toward the surrounding fields.

“The academy’s original plan was to go in batches. Each team would take turns sparring against each other, slowly honing their skills.”

As he spoke, Zhang Xian’s gaze swept over the students currently dueling in the distance.

“But during that battle in South City, just about everyone in our academy who was in the top hundred of the Ladder Rankings signed up for the front lines. Right now, nearly a third of them are still lying in the hospital. No matter how you look at it, they need to rest for a while before they can return to the training ground.”

Luo Yang finally began to catch the scent of what was going on.

“To put it simply,” Zhang Xian continued, “most of the remaining teams are incomplete. Very few are actually functional.”

As the old man spoke, the fawning smile on his face became even more obvious.

“And that’s why, Student Luo Yang—”

“Don’t act so friendly.” Luo Yang pulled his arm out of the old man’s grasp. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Zhang Xian paused.

“Be a sparring partner.”

The old man’s words were short and direct.

“These fifty or sixty people in the training ground—you will be their training opponent.”

Luo Yang’s eyelid twitched. He looked around the entire training ground again.

Fifty or sixty people. Every single one of them was in the top hundred of the Ladder Rankings. Every single one of them was one of the academy’s best fighters.

He had only been out of the hospital for a few days. He looked down at his hands; the wounds had mostly healed. If it came down to whether he could fight, he definitely could.

But that didn't mean he wanted to start round two just like that.

“Principal Zhang,” he said with a smile that was both polite and cold. “I only got out of the hospital a few days ago myself.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the meaning of giving me such a high-intensity workload?!”

“It is a bit sudden, but...”

“No.” Luo Yang cut him off directly. “I wouldn't do this job no matter how much you paid me. You should find someone else.”

He turned to leave, but Zhang Xian stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Hey, don't go, don't go.”

The old man’s voice was practically pleading.

“We’ve been teacher and student for a while now. Just consider it as me owing you a favor, okay?”

He leaned in closer to Luo Yang and lowered his voice.

“Listen to me. If you’re willing to be a sparring partner for the academy’s teams and help them get a decent result in the league, then from today until the day you graduate, you won’t have to take another Science exam!”

Luo Yang’s mouth twitched.

During his years at the academy, his reputation as a tail-ender was half due to his score-controlling and half because he truly struggled with Science.

Thinking back to the nonsensical scribbles he had written on last semester’s math test, he felt a bit frustrated.

He was a young master of the Luo family, after all. If word got out that he had to use his influence just to pass Science, where would his dignity be?

But if he framed Zhang Xian’s condition as a “reward for making an outstanding contribution to the academy,” then it seemed like a different matter. At least he could justify it to himself.

Luo Yang stared at Zhang Xian’s old face for several seconds. That fawning smile had already upgraded to one of intense eagerness.

“...Fine.”

Luo Yang squeezed the word out from between his teeth.

Zhang Xian’s eyes lit up instantly.

“When do we start?” Luo Yang didn't bother with further pleasantries and asked directly.

“Now.” Zhang Xian answered without hesitation.

Luo Yang took a deep breath.

The gazes of those dozens of people on both sides of the training ground converged on him all at once. The interior of the building grew even quieter than when he had first entered.

He adjusted his glasses.

“Then let’s begin.”