Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1181 - 573_2

With the booze fueling his words, Ma Donghe's mouth became a nonstop fountain, chattering away without pause:

"Yeah, in the current slang, this goes by... sports rehabilitation, I think, far more useful than those showy Western medicine tricks."

"Consider it, the guys in the Action Department scrap and tussle daily, getting knocked around, with muscle tears and bone issues happening all the time. If I get the hang of genuine bone-setting and massage skills, I could manage on-the-spot crises and ease up those hurts, and that'd be hugely sought after."

"Then, those squad leaders and bosses would hold me in high regard, wouldn't they?"

Ma Donghe grew more fired up as he talked, like he was already picturing his shining path ahead in the squad:

"Ah Cheng, let me tell you, from the close of last month, I've been picking up tips from Master Lin, and Huiyi has shared some solid knowledge with me too."

"I sense my bone-setting skills are starting to take shape now, just like Master Lin mentions, I'm in the early phase, and with ten more days or maybe half a month of honing, I wouldn't stack up to you, but I'm confident I'll pass with flying colors."

Fang Cheng heard Ma Donghe's boasting and gave a gentle smile.

He then grabbed his cup and toasted Ma Donghe's:

"So I can cheer you on ahead of time, Mr. Ma."

"Haha, appreciate the kind words."

Ma Donghe chuckled loudly and tossed back his drink all at once.

He licked his lips, as though relishing the beer's sharp bite, but the thrill on his face faded abruptly, replaced by a heavy breath.

"Sigh, honestly, Ah Cheng,"

Ma Donghe set his cup aside, a touch of admiration flickering in his eyes:

"Watching you fix bones for those thugs earlier today, I got what real expertise looks like, what it means to possess mighty abilities."

"I've been grinding away at learning for a full month, yet I probably can't touch your effortless grip. If only I had your knack, this test would be no sweat!"

"Even if I left the written part empty, just this talent would have the judges pleading for me to ace it. Snagging top spot would be easy!"

Once he vented, it hit him that he'd overstepped, so he hurriedly shook his hands to clarify:

"I didn't intend it that way, I simply... I simply believe your talents deserve to sparkle, not go to waste!"

Fang Cheng's munching eased up, and he lifted his eyes toward him.

His look stayed steady and profound, like it could pierce straight into one's secrets.

"Heh heh."

Under that stare, Ma Donghe shifted uncomfortably and let out a nervous chuckle.

At last, he threw up his hands in defeat, dropping the pretense:

"Fine, I'll be straight with you."

"Truth is, it's my family elder's suggestion, he hopes you'll join this Special Search Team test as well."

Fang Cheng stayed quiet, merely taking another skewer of grilled chicken gizzards and chewing deliberately, apparently letting him go on.

Ma Donghe gathered his resolve, sat up straight in a flash, and locked eyes with Fang Cheng, his face more earnest than usual:

"Ah Cheng, I get your concerns, you're scared of rough treatment within, tangled in those complicated power plays, and even more worried your abilities get revealed and you're poked at like some oddity."

"But my dad points out, you don't need to sign up for the Action Department or the Intelligence one, you can lean on your outstanding healing prowess and head straight for the Medical Team."

"What's the Medical Team? It's under the support branch, the ideal spot for regular folks, a haven for Immortals!"

Ma Donghe bent closer, hushed his tone to dodge eavesdroppers:

"Normally, you'd hang back, patch up the wounded comrades, and at worst, after fights wrap up, hit the scene to tend to the barely alive and wrap their wounds."

"No need to rush the front lines, the dangers are way less than our frontline clashes."

"Plus, Elder Shi heads the support department, with his support, who'd mess with you?"

"You'd be treated like a pro there, just punching the clock, sipping tea, flipping through papers, living the easy life."

"And perks like cultivation aids, insider intel, family safeguards, you'd get them all. Wouldn't that beat going lone wolf on the streets?"

Ma Donghe wrapped up his pitch swiftly, eyes fixed on Fang Cheng, eager for a reply.

Truth be told, tension knotted in his gut.

This elaborate pitch came from his father Ma Jianguo's careful coaching at home, every phrase drilled in over days.

The elder genuinely spots promise in Fang Cheng, feeling it's a shame for such a fighting prodigy to linger in the shadows of the alleys.

He's also wary of his lone-wolf ways, lacking any network, lest he veer off path one day and dive into grave misdeeds.

That'd be an enormous loss.

So the elder linked up with Shi Chengyi, brainstorming as a pair.

In the end, they devised this smart 'backdoor entry' plan, guiding him into the fold as a 'skilled specialist,' hitting two birds with one stone.

"Medical Team?"

Fang Cheng set aside the skewer, cleaned his hands on a napkin, appearing to mull it over deeply:

"It does sound appealing, so why not just sign up for it yourself?"

"Me?"

Ma Donghe flushed and rubbed his head, a tad sheepish as he replied:

"I'd love to, but that spot demands genuine expertise."

"They pick only top-tier med school grads. With my average chops, even if I slipped in, I'd just fill a seat and squander supplies."

"You're a whole other story, Ah Cheng!"

Ma Donghe pressed on with zeal:

"Your bone-setting and massage prowess, I'd bet no student at East Capital Medical College comes close."

"For you, the exam would be a breeze!"

Fang Cheng eyed his eager expression and offered a vague grin.

He then raised his glass, finished the last of his beer, and drawled out:

"No hurry here; I'll ponder it further."

Noting Fang Cheng hadn't shot it down flat, Ma Donghe eased up a notch.

He sensed a chance!

If Ah Cheng was open to thinking it over, based on the elder's read, success seemed likely.

Should they both make it into the Special Search Team, they'd have each other's backs, and he might even gain from it.

Moreover, a powerhouse like Fang Cheng as a teammate would sure bring comfort on upcoming ops!

"Excellent! Excellent! Mull it as long as you need, but aim to settle by next Monday, or the signup deadline slips away."

Ma Donghe beamed with delight, snatching up another tray of skewers and shoving it his way eagerly:

"Here, Brother Cheng, don't stick to drinks, dig into these. It's all on me today, stuff yourself!"

Fang Cheng gave a mild smile and accepted the tray.

The pair kept at the drinking and skewer-munching.

The barbecue spot stayed noisy with chatter, the coals glowing hot.

The faint lamps lit up the evening on Old Factory Street, brimming with energy and buzz.

.........

"Click."

A soft noise echoed as the worn security door swung open and shut loosely once more.

The space lay shrouded in shadow and quiet.

Fang Cheng skipped the lights.

Long used to the dark, he didn't need illumination.

He slipped into house shoes by the door and padded quietly to the living area.

Crossing the room's middle, his stride hit a brief halt.

Moonbeams slipped in via the bare window, spilling a chilly silver sheen across the ground.

Within that gleam, a web of cracks stood out sharp.

It was the dent from his kick in that earlier clash with Ah Le, still unfixed.

Fang Cheng's eyes rested on the split for under a second before shifting elsewhere.

Treating it like any regular floor mark.

He stepped into the bath and twisted the tap.

Icy water gushed forth.

He scooped up handfuls to scrub his face and palms thoroughly, washing off the oily residue and booze scent.

Droplets trailed along his sharp jawline, glinting faintly in the low light.

After a quick rinse, Fang Cheng headed to the sleeping quarters.

His attention landed on the bag atop the bed, holding there briefly.

After a short pause, he leaned in to undo the zipper, pulling out two objects and setting them softly on the desk bathed in moonlight.

They were a pair of contrasting masks, positioned apart.

One was stark white, face contorted in rage, radiating wild malice from the eyes—the Evil Ghost Mask.

The other featured a vivid red base with a bold black grin, a tear dangling at the eye's edge—the funny Clown Mask.

Fang Cheng dragged over a seat and settled in, folding his arms, staring wordlessly at the masks before him.

Moonlight poured in, hitting the masks' smooth faces and casting a spooky shimmer.

His gaze remained still as a pond, undisturbed, like he was just eyeing a couple of everyday artworks.