Victory

This minor conflict was soon forgotten by Zhong Yun. On his way home, he was delighted to find his parents had finally returned—their vehicles were parked in the courtyard. Unlocking the door, he saw his parents and Yang Siqing sitting in the living room, chatting.

“You’re back, Xiaoyun.” Yun Rong was overjoyed to see her beloved son return.

“What have you two been busy with these past few days? You haven’t even been home. If you’d stayed away any longer, I was about to call the police,” Zhong Yun complained, dropping his backpack.

“There’s a guest here, don’t be so cheeky,” Zhong Pingjiang chided him.

Zhong Yun made a face. “Mom, I’m going upstairs,” he said, and bounded up the stairs.

“This child,” Yun Rong’s face was full of indulgent smiles.

“Zhong Yun is a good kid,” Yang Siqing commented at just the right moment, making Yun Rong smile even more.

As they were speaking, Zhong Yun came thumping down the stairs again, holding a round box in his hand. “Dad, Mom, I’ve got something good for you.”

He picked up the teapot from the table, emptied the tea leaves, and opened the round box he’d brought.

Previously, if Zhong Yun had behaved so rudely in front of a guest, Zhong Pingjiang would have certainly scolded him. But ever since he learned that “Nine Stars Accompanying the Moon” was cultivated by his son, his perception of Zhong Yun had changed dramatically. He no longer saw him as a useless child needing constant care.

So, this time, he said nothing.

When the box was opened, Yang Siqing calculated something mentally and exclaimed happily, “‘Heart-cleansing Decoction’? I didn’t expect you to have such a fine thing.”

Zhong Yun smiled without answering. He scooped two teaspoons into the teapot, poured in hot water, and as steam billowed, a refreshing fragrance filled the air.

He poured a cup for each of them and made a gesture inviting them to try.

Yang Siqing was the first to raise his cup, drinking it down in one gulp, then closing his eyes, savoring the taste.

Seeing his exaggerated reaction, Zhong Yun couldn’t help but laugh.

Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong also took their cups, sipped lightly, their eyes lighting up as they too finished their drinks in one go.

“Dad, Mom, what have you been busy with lately?” Zhong Yun asked, adding more water to the teapot.

“We were just about to tell you,” Zhong Pingjiang said, setting down his cup. “Your mother and I have resigned from our old company.”

Zhong Yun was stunned for a moment, nearly spilling boiling water onto his hand. Both his parents had always valued their jobs more than their own son—how could they resign? But he knew his father would have more to say.

As expected, Zhong Pingjiang continued, “Your mother and I have started a company. We’ll be very busy from now on, so we’ll be home even less, and won’t have much time to spend with you.”

---

“You started a company?” Zhong Yun was a bit surprised, but didn’t much mind. He laughed, “Do you think I’m a three-year-old who still needs people around?”

“Go ahead and focus on your work, I’ll take good care of myself.”

Seeing his son so understanding, Zhong Pingjiang was full of relief. “Xiaoyun has grown up.”

“Xiaoyun, you’ve had a hard time,” Yun Rong said gently. Work was important, but for her, her son mattered even more.

“When the company is running smoothly, won’t you be able to spend more time with him?” Zhong Pingjiang consoled his wife.

“Oh, please.” Zhong Yun made a face, “I’m seventeen, not a three-year-old who needs his diaper changed.”

“Just focus on your work. Your son has grown up. Remember, I’ll always be your solid support.”

The Zhong couple were only able to spare a moment to see their son; there was a mountain of work waiting at the company. After seeing him, they were ready to leave.

Before they left, Zhong Yun pressed a whole box of “Heart-cleansing Decoction” into their hands, instructing them to drink it daily.

After they departed, Yang Siqing looked Zhong Yun up and down, his eyes shining with an inexplicable light. “You seem to have improved again overnight.”

Zhong Yun shot him a look of disdain. “Never met a genius before?” He turned to go upstairs. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

“Hey, do you have any more ‘Heart-cleansing Decoction’? Give me a box,” Yang Siqing called after him.

Zhong Yun shrugged. “No more, I gave it all to my parents.”

“Stingy,” the old man muttered under his breath.

Zhong Yun pretended not to hear. Back in his room, he logged onto his computer. A familiar, cold voice sounded: “Combat simulation training begins.”

It was as if a subtle current ran through his whole body. Zhong Yun became as alert as a prowling leopard, his senses sharpened to the extreme. Ahead, a tall figure appeared.

Strike first.

This time, Zhong Yun attacked first...

Ten minutes later, battered and covered in wounds, Zhong Yun collapsed in defeat, unwilling to give in.

Challenge failed, score: ninety.

Just one point short, Zhong Yun lay on the ground, his fists clenched tightly. Just one more moment, one more push…

“Again…”

Now, he and his opponent were well-matched, trading blows and counter-blows. Though Zhong Yun’s attacks were still somewhat reckless—each move leading to mutual injury—the two were equally matched.

---

The virtual opponent felt no pain. They traded punches and kicks, testing whose body was tougher, who could take more punishment.

A few minutes later, Zhong Yun was already wavering, one eye swollen shut and streaming tears, his vision doubled.

His opponent was not much better off—breaking Zhong Yun’s eye had cost him a dislocated wrist.

They faced off, neither daring to make a move.

Pain surged like a tide. Zhong Yun fought to control his ragged breathing, syncing it to the rhythm of the Kalana breathing technique, feeling his strength gather bit by bit within.

He moved, stepping forward, fist aimed at his opponent’s cheek, charged with unstoppable momentum.

Bang.

Their fists collided, a dull thud of flesh and bone. Both arms fell limp.

“Hey—”

Zhong Yun shouted, advancing instead of retreating, raising his left hand and striking fiercely at his opponent’s neck. Even with only one hand left, he would defeat him.

Crack.

A sharp snap like breaking sugarcane—under Zhong Yun’s full-force punch, the strongman’s neck bones all snapped, held together only by skin. His head sagged back, the broken bone pushing the skin up.

Zhong Yun didn’t escape unscathed—the strongman’s dying counterattack landed a kick on his thigh, sending him rolling several meters across the floor.

For a long moment, Zhong Yun endured the pain, struggling to his feet.

Boom.

His seemingly invincible opponent crashed to the ground.

“Challenge complete, score: one hundred.”

In an instant, all pain vanished without a trace. Zhong Yun looked up at the sky, a sense of unparalleled fulfillment swelling in his chest.

I did it.

In that moment, Zhong Yun felt capable of overcoming any difficulty.