The classroom.
Fang Ping was completely at a loss, his heart unsettled.
Suppressing the urge to blurt out something that might expose him, he casually asked, "Been so busy preparing for the college entrance exam lately that I haven't really followed the news. What's been happening lately? Anything interesting?"
Chen Fan didn't think much of it. "Nothing new, really. Just the usual. Oh—well, there was one surprise: Martial Grandmaster Ma recently broke through to the Eighth Rank."
Chen Fan wasn't one for gossip. But Yang Jian, the burly boy in the front row destined for a bearded future, was far more talkative.
The bell hadn't rung yet, and hearing Fang Ping's question, Yang Jian turned around and whispered eagerly:
"Not too many confirmed big events lately, but I did catch some gossip online the other day. No idea if it's true or not.
They're saying that Master Ma—the one known as 'Ali's Martial Master'—might have just broken through to the Seventh Rank, stepping into the ranks of Grandmasters!
As for Grandmaster Li from Baidu, rumor has it he's gone into seclusion, aiming for the Eighth Rank. But honestly, his progress has lagged behind Ma's these past few years. Whether he'll make the breakthrough is anyone's guess.
Oh, and there's talk that Governor Zhang of Nanjiang might also break through to the Seventh Rank soon.
If he does, that's going to be huge. Nanjiang's been weak for years, with only a few elders holding the line. A Grandmaster of the Seventh Rank is enough to anchor a province. And Governor Zhang is still young—if he succeeds, his future prospects are limitless. It'd finally rid Nanjiang of that long-standing reputation for weakness.
Also, before this year's martial exam, I heard our school's invited a senior who got into Nanjiang Martial University last year to give us a speech…"
Yang Jian rattled off one tidbit after another, but to Fang Ping, it all sounded like an alien language.
Almost everything Yang Jian mentioned revolved around martial artists—who was about to break through, who had gone into seclusion.
Some names Fang Ping recognized, from the business world, the entertainment industry, even politics.
From Yang Jian's casual remarks, Fang Ping could tell one thing clearly: in this world, martial artists held an exalted status.
Anyone below the Seventh Rank was addressed with the honorific Master. Those of the Seventh Rank and above were revered as Grandmasters.
And judging from the examples, it seemed that anyone famous in this society was, in fact, a martial artist.
Or rather, if you weren't strong, you'd never become famous in the first place.
At one point, Fang Ping casually asked how powerful these martial artists really were.
Yang Jian didn't hesitate. "Even a random martial artist could beat us into mincemeat!"
When the bell rang and the teacher hadn't arrived yet, Yang Jian sighed. "If you can't pass the Martial Exam, you'll never become a martial artist. And if you're not a martial artist… well, this is it for your life.
In government, you'll never rise past a local official. In business, you'll always be overshadowed. For ordinary people, breaking out of mediocrity? Practically impossible!"
Those words left Fang Ping dumbstruck.
Even Chen Fan, who'd mostly kept quiet, seemed a little dejected. He whispered, "Martial artists are rare to begin with. For people like us, whether in politics or business, it's not realistic. No point caring too much about it."
From their conversation, Fang Ping picked up on something deeply unsettling.
No matter how you looked at it, this society reeked of hostility toward him.
If you weren't a martial artist, if you weren't strong—then even if you were a reborn man with a second chance at life—you'd still be stuck at the very bottom.
And the worst part? Fang Ping was beginning to doubt if this was even true rebirth.
Sure, his classmates' faces were familiar, their names unchanged. Even the big corporations and tycoons matched what he remembered.
But this strange "high-powered profession" suddenly existing… had things really been the same in his past life?
He wanted to ask more, but the teacher walked in, cutting off further questions.
Besides, from everyone else's attitude, this was common knowledge. If he kept pressing, people might start suspecting he had memory loss.
After thinking it over, Fang Ping seized a moment when the teacher's back was turned to quietly ask Chen Fan, "Hey… are there still any internet cafés near school?"
Chen Fan gave him a strange look. "Of course. Didn't you used to hang out at Blue Sky Internet Café all the time?"
"Whew."
Fang Ping exhaled in relief and nodded, saying no more. At least some things hadn't changed.
Like that ridiculously named internet café—it still existed. If the café was the same, maybe other things were too.
After class, he'd head there and dig up the truth.
Seeing Fang Ping visibly relax, Chen Fan reminded him kindly, "Even if we can't get into the Martial Exam, we can't give up. Do well on the liberal arts exam, and there's still a chance to make something of yourself. Maybe even a shot at becoming a martial artist later. College entrance exam's right around the corner—don't waste too much time in cafés…"
Fang Ping just smiled and nodded. As one half of the "Ordinary Duo," Chen Fan wasn't exactly chatty, but their circumstances were the same. He was at least a caring desk mate.
…
The morning classes dragged by, but once the final bell rang for lunch, Fang Ping bolted for the door.
His mind was overflowing with questions that needed answers.
Seeing him rush off, Chen Fan hesitated before jogging after him. "You going to eat, or to the café?"
"The café."
"Don't be late. First period this afternoon is with the homeroom teacher."
Fang Ping acknowledged the reminder. With both his parents working, he usually ate at a nearby fast food shop, no need to go home.
Right now, though, curiosity burned hotter than hunger. He could hardly wait another minute to investigate.
Striding quickly down the street, Fang Ping glanced around.
Nothing seemed out of place. Yangcheng No.1 High looked the same, the students and teachers all normal. No one was leaping across rooftops or walking on walls.
The only jarring difference was the school's banners and signs:
"Prepare for the College Entrance Exam—Martial Exam, Here I Come!"
"Fight With Your Life—Aim for the Martial Exam!"
"Want to ace the Martial Exam? Join Qingniao Martial Prep Classes, your best choice!"
"One Blood Qi Pill guarantees your spot in the Martial Exam!"
…
If not for these slogans being displayed openly on school grounds, Fang Ping would've sworn some quack martial sect and shady supplement peddlers had infiltrated the campus.
But seeing everyone take them for granted, he had to accept it.
This was not the world he remembered.
Just how different it was—he would only know after digging deeper.
…
Ten minutes later, Fang Ping arrived at Blue Sky Internet Café, not far from the school.
Same smell. Same sign.
Back then, this café had seemed glamorous. Now, it just looked run-down. The four characters "Blue Sky Internet Café" were nearly illegible.
Pushing inside, he saw the front desk still manned by that vaguely familiar young woman.
But looking at her again…
Fang Ping realized his teenage self must have had a skewed sense of beauty.
Of course, if she'd been drop-dead gorgeous, she wouldn't be working as an internet café attendant.
He gave her a cursory glance, uninterested. No mood for flirting—and besides, a woman of this level hardly suited a "glorious reborn man."
But the moment he thought of Grandmaster Ma, that sense of superiority collapsed instantly.
Sure, rebirth is lofty… if you land in the right damn world!
Shaking off the bitter thought, he walked straight up to the counter. "One computer. How much an hour?"
"Three yuan," she said crisply. Then added, "Are you a member? Not yet? Open one now—charge 50 yuan and get 10 free."
Fang Ping sneered inwardly.
Fifty just to get ten extra? Stingy.
Besides—did he look like someone who had fifty yuan on him?
After a whole morning of subtle probing, he'd already confirmed his net worth: 28 yuan in total.
And that included his lunch money. Where was he supposed to pull fifty from?
Ignoring her upsell, he fished out a crumpled five-yuan note and slapped it on the counter with an air of false pride.
The attendant couldn't care less. She tossed him a temporary card and went back to ignoring him.
Fang Ping wanted to shout, "Don't underestimate the poor youth!" But considering the "enemy" was just a café attendant, he saved the line for when he met a real big shot.
Grabbing the card, he headed for a corner seat.
…
Once logged in, he devoured information like a starving man.
The glow of the monitor cast eerie shadows across his face, flickering between grim, furious, and determined.
Occasionally, curses slipped from his lips. No one knew whether he was cursing fate—or something else.
An hour later, the machine shut off automatically. His time was up.
Fang Ping didn't bother topping up. He walked out of the café with a new clarity in his eyes.
The moment he stepped outside, his face hardened, jaw clenched. "The Martial Exam… I'm taking it."
And as if the words weren't enough, he repeated, each syllable like steel:
"I must take the Martial Exam!"
(End of Chapter)