High Martial: I Grind Professions

「January 11th.」

「Early morning.」

Dawn had just broken. A faint light struggled to tear through the heavy curtain of the winter night, painting a thin layer of pale gray across the window lattice.

Li Wen’s eyes opened right on time.

The first semester of his senior year was officially over. Today was the first day of winter break.

He didn’t use the break as an excuse to be lazy. As always, he rose before his alarm clock, as if a biological clock, accurate down to the second, was etched into his very being.

He started with his usual morning stretch. His joints let out a soft CRACKLE, shaking off the sluggishness of sleep.

Then, his consciousness sank into his sea of awareness, skillfully calling forth the familiar virtual panel.

[Name: Li Wen]

[Age: 18]

[Realm: Unranked (Level 6.3)]

[Occupation: Scholar lv3 (256→268/400)]

[Skills: Bladework · Apex (Initiate 24→27/100)]

[Cultivation Technique: Splitting Blade Golden Killing Skill (Minor Achievement 50→70/100)]

Although his physical level remained firmly at 6.3, Li Wen could clearly feel a change. The past two days of final exams had been a frantic, almost masochistic period of cultivating his fundamental techniques.

That, combined with the baptism by fire from yesterday’s battle against the green-clad virtual figure with Minor Achievement in an apex technique, had been silently solidifying and transforming his body’s foundation.

The tearing pain that came with pushing his Cultivation Technique to its limits was subtly tempering his muscle fibers, steadily driving the activity of his qi and blood toward the threshold of Level 6.4.

He could feel it—that thin barrier was already showing signs of loosening.

Bladework, Cultivation Technique, knowledge... everything was climbing upward in an orderly fashion, following a difficult but incredibly clear path.

Hope, like the gradually brightening light outside the window, was scattering the gloom that weighed on his heart.

"Huu..." He let out a soft breath, ruffled his somewhat messy hair, threw back the covers, and got out of bed to open his door.

The familiar aroma of breakfast already filled the living room.

His father, Li Hong, was bustling between the kitchen and the dining table. His deliberately quiet movements and forcefully suppressed breathing pricked at Li Wen’s heart like fine needles.

"Dad, you need to get more rest, too."

Gazing at those eyes that couldn’t hide their exhaustion despite trying to feign energy, Li Wen walked to the kitchen doorway. The words rolled around in his throat a few times, but in the end, he swallowed all his worries and questions, leaving only a single, somewhat strained sentence of concern.

Li Hong froze for a moment, then turned around, forcing a smile onto his face. He waved his hand dismissively.

"It’s nothing! I’d just be idle at home anyway, and besides, I go to bed early."

His tone was light, as if the stifled coughing from last night had been nothing but Li Wen’s imagination.

"You go wash up. The sooner you eat, the sooner you can study. You can’t slack off just because it’s break time. The Feixing Class... that’s a big deal."

"Mmm." Li Wen gave his father a deep look but said no more. He just nodded and walked silently to the bathroom.

The cold water splashing on his face brought a jolt of sharp clarity.

Having lived with him for eighteen years, he knew this man’s personality like the back of his hand. It was a typical, stubborn, middle-aged machismo, as unshakeable as a mountain.

’He’s so devoted to providing for the family that he acts like he has to carry the weight of the world on his own shoulders, which aren’t even that broad anymore. He’d never dream of letting his wife and son share even the slightest bit of the burden, regardless of whether he can handle it.’

’For such a "foolish" yet incredibly great father,’ Li Wen knew, ’the only thing I can do right now—the only thing that can truly lessen his inner burden—is to study more fanatically, to cultivate more desperately, and to use tangible progress to support his hopes.’

The more anxiety and worry he showed about his father’s illness, the more Li Hong would blame himself, spiraling into the painful belief that he was a "useless father holding his son back." So, no matter how bitter it tasted, he had to swallow it. No matter how worried he was, he had to pretend not to know.

After washing up, he returned to the living room, and the father and son sat opposite each other for breakfast.

It was called "eating together," but in reality, it was mostly Li Hong constantly putting fried eggs, slices of meat, and vegetables into Li Wen’s bowl. Li Wen, in turn, silently accepted it all, wolfing down the food that was filled with both a father’s love and the energy his body needed.

Every bite felt like swallowing a heavy responsibility.

"By the way, Ah Wen," Li Hong said during the meal, pausing his chopsticks. His eyes held a hint of caution, yet also a fierce anticipation.

"You guys finished your final exams a couple of days ago. Have... have any of the results come out yet? Did you make any progress?"

For any parent, their child’s academic achievements are always the weightiest matter on their mind.

Li Wen forcefully swallowed the last mouthful of food, his throat bobbing. "Even if you hadn’t asked, I was going to tell you in a couple of days anyway."

He put down his bowl, a smile touching his face—a confident smile, backed by strength. "The academic scores haven’t been released, but the results for the Martial Dao skills assessment came out yesterday."

"Was it a big one?" Li Hong’s heart leaped into his throat. His chopsticks, holding a piece of pickled vegetable, hovered in mid-air. His voice was laced with an almost imperceptible tension.

He knew better than anyone how difficult Li Wen’s academic journey had been. Now, with the family’s sudden crisis, he was even more afraid his son would suffer a blow.

"So big you wouldn’t believe it," Li Wen said, his smile widening as he saw his father’s nervous expression. "That’s why I was originally planning to wait for the report card to come out. Showing you the black and white proof would have been more shocking."

"You little rascal, you’re not pulling my leg, are you?" Li Hong’s heart settled halfway back down. His words were skeptical, but a glimmer of hope ignited in his eyes.

He knew his own son, of course. Honesty was etched into his bones. Ever since he started school, his report cards had only ever shown a distinction between "failing" and "barely passing." Lying? He almost never did.

"Top ten in the class," Li Wen said, enunciating each word and carefully controlling the impact. "Should be no problem."

He didn’t dare mention his grade-level ranking, let alone the school-shaking battle against the green-clad figure. He was afraid too big of a surprise would be too much for his father to handle.

"Top ten in the class?!" CLATTER. Li Hong’s chopsticks fell onto the table. He momentarily forgot to chew, and the piece of pickled vegetable he had just picked up dropped back into his bowl.

He snapped his head up, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at Li Wen, as if seeing his son for the very first time.

’The kid who all his teachers said had no Martial Dao talent apart from "working hard"? My son, who was always at the bottom of the class, who struggled just to pass? He broke free from the mire of last place and shot into the top ten—a symbol of strength and potential?!’

The information rang in his head like a great bell, buzzing as he tried to process and confirm it.

"...Y-you’re not fooling me?" Li Hong’s voice trembled. The immense shock of the surprise made him feel a little dizzy.

"The report card should be out in a couple of days," Li Wen said as he picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth. He stood up, his voice calm but filled with power.

"You can see for yourself then." He didn’t plan to explain any further. It was better to let this surprise slowly build and bubble up in his father’s heart, hoping it would wash away some of the bitterness of his illness.