High Martial: I Grind Professions

How could he lift this infuriating time limit and achieve a state of continuous, 24-hour enlightenment? Li Wen had absolutely no idea.

’How powerful a physical foundation would that require? What terrifying level of Spiritual Power? And how many precious life-energy potions to sustain it? This path, I’m afraid, is far longer and more arduous than I ever imagined.’

After a short rest to recover some of his energy, Li Wen got to his feet and returned to the blade technique training area of the Martial Arts Room.

He wanted to test another key metric: now that his spiritual attribute had improved, exactly how much longer could he maintain a single activation of [Absolute Focus]?

Rainbow light flowed as his long blade danced. Li Wen deliberately slowed his pace, focusing more on sensing the rate at which his Spiritual Power drained.

Time slipped by quietly amid his focus and the drain on his stamina. The winter sunlight filtering through the high windows crept slowly across the floor.

When Li Wen felt the familiar pinprick sensation begin in his brain, his thoughts turning sluggish and the faint, protective premonition of a dizzy spell looming, he decisively stopped his movements and glanced at the electronic clock on the wall.

"One hour and forty minutes..." he muttered, quickly calculating in his head. ’That’s about ten minutes longer than my one-and-a-half-hour limit at LV3!’

His spirits soared at the result.

Though the increase wasn’t huge, its significance was profound—after all, upgrading [Scholar] to LV5 had resulted in a 50% boost to his enlightenment! The improvement was massive!

Typically, more powerful skill effects come at an exponentially higher cost.

Yet, with the powerful support of his spiritual attribute, his maximum duration hadn’t shortened; it had actually been extended!

The increased boost to his enlightenment hadn’t added to his physical burden; instead, he had gained a precious ten minutes of duration!

’The spiritual attribute from upgrading Scholar is the perfect complement to the [Absolute Focus] skill. It’s been an indispensable help!’ A sincere smile spread across Li Wen’s face.

’If I break up this one hour and forty minutes into several sessions throughout the day, with enough recovery time in between, I should be able to get a stable two hours of total activation time!’

This projected "uptime" was more than enough to support more structured and in-depth training.

The sun sank in the west. It was nearly six in the afternoon.

Li Wen looked at his final gains on the panel:

[Art: Top-Tier Blade Arts (Entry 29→38/100)]

A single afternoon, from 29 to 38—a full 9-point increase! This not only confirmed the incredible efficiency of the new level of [Absolute Focus], but also revealed the huge hidden benefits granted by his spiritual attribute.

"Not a bad haul!" Satisfied, Li Wen packed his bag and left the steamy top-tier technique area.

The lights in the Fire Hall’s second-floor cafeteria were on. It wasn’t noticeably more crowded than it had been at noon.

Li Wen quickly grabbed a high-energy meal, found a corner table, and began to dig in. After an afternoon of training, his body was sending out intense hunger signals.

He kept his head down, focused on devouring his food, until he happened to glance up and his attention was caught by the giant television screen on the cafeteria wall.

"...welcome to Qingshi Live News. It’s six P.M. This afternoon, our county’s leaders led a team to inspect the Qingmu Project site regarding its large-scale collapse... According to preliminary reports, the collapse has resulted in more than two hundred injuries, fifty-three deaths, and thirty-two missing persons. Rescue efforts are still underway..."

"The Qingmu Project?" Li Wen froze mid-chew. The food in his mouth suddenly lost all its flavor.

The name was all too familiar. He lifted his head, his gaze locked on the television screen.

The screen was playing aerial footage from the site: a familiar structural frame, but nearly half the area looked as if it had been gnawed away by a giant beast, collapsing into an enormous, bottomless black pit still wreathed in dust and smoke.

Rescue vehicles looked as tiny as ants, and the police cordon stretched far into the distance. The scene was horrifying.

’So it really is the Qingmu Project!’ Li Wen’s heart clenched. Before falling ill, his father, Li Hong, had been a veteran employee there, having worked on that project for many years.

He had often gone there to find his father as a child, and later, his bus to school always had to detour around the side of the massive construction site.

But now, the construction site on the television was completely unrecognizable. The bottomless crater emanated an indescribable sense of foreboding.

"No wonder there were so many casualties..." Li Wen murmured.

Since the revival of Spiritual Energy, the physical constitution of ordinary people had been subtly enhanced. It was rare for a typical natural disaster to cause such heavy casualties.

For those trapped inside, a collapse of this magnitude was almost certainly a death sentence.

A thought, tinged with absurdity and bitterness, flashed through his mind. ’In that case, did Dad actually...dodge a bullet because he was home sick?’

For a moment, he was overcome by a profound sense of absurdity.

His father’s severe illness was a great stone weighing on the whole family’s heart, the beginning of their financial shackles, and the most direct motivation for Li Wen’s desperate push to become stronger.

But now, this fatal disaster had, in a sense, become his father’s "talisman"? The unpredictable, dark humor of fate left him unsure whether to laugh or cry, and an indescribably complex emotion washed over him.

"Sigh..." In the end, all his thoughts dissolved into a heavy sigh. He lowered his head and went back to the food on his plate, but it now tasted bitter and acrid.

He returned home with a heavy heart. Pushing open the door, he saw his father, Li Hong, just as he had expected, staring at his phone screen with a grave expression.

The phone screen was lit up, displaying a chat app. Rows of avatars and chat bubbles showed numerous unread messages. Most of the profile pictures were of middle-aged men in work clothes and hard hats—faces Li Wen vaguely recognized as Li Hong’s coworkers.

"Sigh..." Li Hong looked up, his gaze meeting Li Wen as he walked in. He sighed before he even spoke, his face a mixture of shock, sorrow, and an unspeakable sense of relief.

"A blessing in disguise..." he said, his voice low and hoarse, laced with deep exhaustion.

"Little Wang... Old Zhang... and Old Man Liu... they’re all... on the list of the dead..."

His old foreman had posted a partial list of the confirmed victims in the group chat, and every familiar name struck his heart like a cold stone.

Was he happy? This broken body of his was in constant pain, but at least he was alive, able to sit here and watch his son come home.

But when he thought of those coworkers—who might have been laughing and joking just this morning, hauling concrete and steel frames together, only to be gone forever in the blink of an eye—how could the immense grief and sorrow for his own kind possibly allow him to feel "happy"?

Worried? He was keenly aware that the root of his illness lay deep in his lungs. The heavy financial pressure felt like a boulder on his shoulders, the future was uncertain, and watching his son rush about, he was consumed with worry.

Li Wen quietly walked to the stool beside his father and sat down. He didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say.

He had already silently experienced the same complex expression on his father’s face while he was eating alone in the cafeteria.

The cruel irony of fate presented itself in that moment to the silent father and son.

The room was plunged into silence, with only the cold north wind occasionally scraping past the window lattice, bringing with it a low, mournful sound.

The immense pressure, the strange sense of fortune, the helpless worry, and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily in the air, making the small living room feel especially oppressive.