Chapter Two: The Sudden Outburst

The sun was setting in the west.

Chen Hongxu arrived at the vegetable stall outside his apartment complex. After skillfully bargaining with the vendor, he left carrying a bundle of greens whose leaves had already turned yellow.

When he reached the bottom of his building, he greeted a few elderly men playing chess, then hurried upstairs. He retrieved his key from the electric meter box outside his apartment and entered.

The apartment was spacious—a three-bedroom unit that looked especially empty with only a few pieces of wooden furniture scattered about.

Chen Hongxu, moving with practiced ease, brought the vegetables into the kitchen. After briefly placating his grumbling stomach, he entered the living room, stood before a small cabinet piled with odds and ends, and stared at the nearly empty bottle of bruise liniment, clenching his fists tightly.

“What’s wrong with me? Haven’t I already gotten used to this? Just bear with it, and it’ll be fine.”

He shook his head. Chen Hongxu, who had long grown accustomed to being bullied, who had resolved to endure it for just one more year until graduation, was now actually angry over a nearly empty bottle of liniment.

He chalked his reaction up to the strange events he’d witnessed earlier that day, laughing at himself for his abnormal behavior.

...

Midnight.

He was enveloped in darkness, the space around him seemingly small, as if trapped inside a sealed box. Looking about, Chen Hongxu couldn’t see a thing.

“Inheritor.”

The soft voice startled him. He turned around, and in the pitch-black emptiness behind him, a luminous woman appeared.

She was very tall, dressed in a long scarlet robe. That was the only detail he could make out; her face and features were shrouded in shadow, impossible to discern.

“Who are you?” Chen Hongxu asked in confusion. He was sure he’d been asleep in his own bed—how had he ended up here?

“You may call me the Guide, or the Spirit of War,” she replied with a faint smile.

Spirit of War...

“Wait, stop saying these bizarre things. What’s going on? Am I dreaming?” Chen Hongxu asked, frowning.

Without answering, the Spirit of War took a step forward and pinched his cheek hard.

“Ow, that hurts!” Chen Hongxu gasped, pushing away her clamp-like hand. “Why did you pinch me?”

“Dreams don’t hurt,” she explained, tilting her head. “I am a spirit, and I’ve always dwelled within the Vessel of War. Now, the vessel is within you, so I’m able to appear here, in your consciousness.”

“The Vessel of War is inside me? What is that?” Chen Hongxu exclaimed, examining his own body in shock.

She chuckled softly. “The Vessel of War is a kind of inheritance—something invisible. You can think of it as a seed that takes root and grows within you, improving your constitution. As for how it ended up inside you, that’s something you’d have to answer yourself.” She paused, glanced at him, and added, “Your constitution right now is terribly weak.”

Blinking, Chen Hongxu suddenly burst into laughter. “Sounds just like a story from a novel—the protagonist gets a miraculous encounter, masters peerless martial arts, and can defeat gods and demons alike. As for how I got it—who cares?”

“More or less,” the Spirit of War replied with a shadowy smile, then lowered her gaze and said quietly, “But the path of war is a perilous one. None of the inheritors throughout history have met a good end. That’s why I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether I should teach you the Way of the Warrior.”

“There’s that much risk?” Chen Hongxu was stunned. Didn’t mastering great martial arts always lead to fame and fortune? Was she just trying to frighten him?

He couldn’t make up his mind no matter how he thought it through. After all, his timid and forbearing nature wasn’t something formed overnight.

“Don’t rush your decision. This choice is once in a lifetime. I can wait. Once you’ve decided, simply call my name in your heart, and I’ll come. For now, I’ll send you back.” The Spirit of War seemed to understand the turmoil of this inheritor and didn’t force an immediate answer. With a wave of her hand, the narrow space was emptied, leaving only her behind, murmuring to herself:

“The Vessel of War changes more than just the body...”

Life went on as before. Chen Hongxu still went to school, ate, slept, and was bullied every day. He completely forgot about the Spirit of War.

Ring, ring... The shrill alarm sounded, jarring and relentless.

Six o’clock sharp. Accustomed to waking at this hour, Chen Hongxu had no complaints. He turned off the alarm, washed up drowsily, and headed out.

Though everyone at school shunned him, Chen Hongxu had a sacred and glorious task in his class—he was the key-holder, responsible for opening the classroom each day. This meant he always arrived earlier and left later than everyone else. If anything went missing in class, he was naturally the first suspect.

Just like today, Chen Hongxu arrived early as usual, cleaning the classroom meticulously. He refused to give anyone an excuse to pick on him; as for those who bullied without cause, there was nothing he could do. All he could manage was to minimize their reasons for targeting him.

At seven thirty, his classmates trickled in for the so-called morning reading session.

“My fountain pen is missing!” someone cried out.

The students, who likely didn’t even know what they were reciting, immediately perked up. Eager as “concerned citizens,” “young pioneers,” or “junior detectives,” they quickly deduced and imagined until their suspicions naturally landed on Chen Hongxu, the first to arrive.

A brief silence fell over the classroom. The students split into three groups: those who, having “learned the truth” from others, sneered and watched; those who, determined to unravel the “truth” themselves, were ready to play good Samaritan and recover the lost item; and finally, Chen Hongxu himself, lips bitten nearly to bleeding, face full of bitterness.

A burly boy, standing about six foot tall, strode over to the corner of the classroom—the rubbish heap—towered over Chen Hongxu, and slapped the desk with arrogance. “Thief! The eyes of the masses are sharp. Hand it over!”

“I didn’t steal it, Li Peng, don’t slander me.” Chen Hongxu protested, though he knew it was useless. The truth was the truth.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Li Peng sneered. He shifted slightly, stepped forward, and grabbed Chen Hongxu by the collar, lifting him off the ground. “You come early, so naturally we suspect you. It’s bad enough you’ve a poor character, but now you’re escalating and harming your own class. Are you even human? How did your parents give birth to such a worthless dog?”

“It wasn’t me! And you have no right to insult my parents!” Chen Hongxu, dangling in the air, kicked desperately, his face flushed, struggling to breathe.

Li Peng spat in his face, laughing scornfully. “You do wrong and can’t take criticism? Who do you think you are? Judging by you, your parents can’t be much better.”

“Don’t talk about my parents!” Chen Hongxu’s eyes blazed. Gritting his teeth, he instinctively drove his knee into Li Peng’s groin.

Usually as meek as a lamb, never resisting, Chen Hongxu’s sudden outburst caught everyone off guard.

Unprepared, Li Peng doubled over in pain, his grip failing instantly.

Both boys crashed to the floor. Li Peng curled up like a shrimp, whimpering, while Chen Hongxu, as he landed, snatched a ballpoint pen off the desk.

A collective gasp filled the classroom.

Chen Hongxu straddled Li Peng, lips curled, eyes narrowed, pen in hand, and whispered threateningly, “I didn’t steal it. Apologize.”

Li Peng, perhaps from pain or from the shock of Chen Hongxu’s transformation, just shivered, unable to respond.

“What do you think is tougher, your eyes or my pen?” Chen Hongxu snarled, his expression fierce, raising the pen as if to stab Li Peng’s eye.

“Wait!” a girl’s voice called out, stopping him.

Chen Hongxu glanced up. It was the girl who had reported her pen missing.

“Let him go. I didn’t really lose my pen,” she said, glancing at the crying Li Peng, hesitating.

Hearing this, Chen Hongxu needed no further explanation—someone had stirred up trouble without cause. He stood slowly, scanned the class, and with a cold laugh overturned his own desk. As he walked toward the door, passing the girl, he said icily, “I don’t hit women, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. Remember, don’t give me the chance.”

The class was stunned. No one understood why the gentle-natured Chen Hongxu had exploded. Only now did they realize how little they actually knew about him—his feelings, his family, even why they disliked him in the first place seemed suddenly unclear.

Chen Hongxu walked alone through the empty campus, a fire burning in his chest. Everyone has their bottom line, and his was his long-dead parents.

Had Li Peng not insulted them, he might have only struggled, not reacted so fiercely.

“Some things need to be settled. This can’t go on.”

He picked up a brick from a flowerbed and slipped it into his pocket, then headed to Xiao Fei’s classroom.

By now, his actions in his own class had already attracted the attention of teachers and students from other classes. A crowd trailed him at a distance—not out of fear he’d harm himself, but that he’d hurt someone else.

Ignoring the gathering behind him, Chen Hongxu entered Xiao Fei’s classroom, unmoved by the students’ astonishment, and strode to the podium. Pointing at Xiao Fei, he announced, “I’ve come to apologize.”

Both the students and the teachers rushing in to stop him were dumbfounded. All that commotion just for an apology?

Ignoring the laughter around him, Chen Hongxu lowered his head, a look of resolve passing through his eyes. He took out the brick, laid his other hand flat on the podium, looked toward Xiao Fei, and smiled. “It was this hand that touched you last time, wasn’t it?”

No sooner had he finished than a sharp crack sounded—the brick smashing down on his own hand.

“Is that enough?” Chen Hongxu, barely holding back the blinding pain, raised his bloody, mangled hand toward Xiao Fei. “If not, I can keep going, as long as you’re satisfied.”

Staring at the blood that dripped ceaselessly onto the podium, Xiao Fei’s face twisted in fright and confusion, her stomach churning. She could only nod repeatedly, desperate for this ruthless figure to vanish from her sight.

“Enough!” The head of discipline, his hair gray, couldn’t stand it any longer and stepped forward to stop him.

But Chen Hongxu’s cold gaze swept over him, and even this devilish figure among students paused, cowed by his presence.

“Is it enough?” Chen Hongxu turned back to Xiao Fei, repeating the question, this time with a roar.

Xiao Fei was utterly stunned. Who was this person? She had no idea what to do and could only nod again and again, the image of his mangled hand replaying in her mind, making her want to retch.

With a heavy sigh, Chen Hongxu finally felt the weight that had tormented him so long lift. He seemed to forget the pain, a genuine smile curving his lips as he cast his gaze at the crowd at the door.

“So, teachers, what now?” he asked quietly.