Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1198 - 582: The Meaning of a Strongman, the Nation’s Trump Card

When it comes to passing a background check, Fang Cheng is remarkably unbothered. His decision to pursue graduate studies originally stemmed not from a genuine scholarly ambition, but as a convenient way to present himself as a member of the educated elite. By projecting the image of a refined intellectual, he hoped to dampen the suspicions of those around him. After all, he holds no illusion that his current power is sufficient to challenge the state infrastructure. He must maintain a ruse, keeping the identity of a professional murderer separate from that of a law-abiding citizen to sidestep unwanted attention. Furthermore, he requires a secure and consistent environment to foster his ongoing growth. In this light, joining the Special Search Team is a clever maneuver, effectively allowing him to reach his goals through a sanctioned path. By aligning himself with official law enforcement, he creates a shield against shadow organizations like the Ideal Land or the Xiao Family, who would surely hesitate to challenge a government entity. Instead of targeting him directly, their focus will be forced onto the monolith of the Special Search Team, leaving Fang Cheng to operate in the background as a modest civil servant. It is the classic strategy of standing in the shade of a great tree, using the government office as the ultimate training ground. Beyond these strategic motives, the practical rewards are what truly ignite Fang Cheng’s interest. As he follows the others, his eyes drift toward the semi-transparent panel hovering in his field of vision. [Bone Setting lv1 (91/250)] [Acupoint Stimulation lv0 (57/100)] [Tui Na lv0 (83/100)] [Qi Gong lv3 (45/1000)]. With his new status officially stamped by the Special Search Team, he plans to treat the sanatorium as an 'instance,' gaining proximity to a wealth of patients. Once there, his leveling speed for bone setting, acupoint stimulation, and Tui Na will surely skyrocket. Should these medical skills hit their prime, a breakthrough for his Qi Gong into the King Realm could be imminent. "Ah Cheng, quit lingering out there and come inside for a drink with your grandfather!" Li Zhenhua’s voice boomed from the residence, brimming with vigor. "Dad, you aren't fully healed; the doctor said you must cut down on the alcohol," Li Biyun countered, her voice laced with weary frustration. "Nonsense, I'm delighted today! Just this once, let it slide, just this once!" Fang Cheng heard the familiar domestic stirrings and felt a rare, genuine smile tug at his lips. "Coming," he replied, stepping over the threshold into the warmth of the home, his silhouette cast long against the interior by the fading daylight.

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The afternoon sun sat perfectly in the sky. Yulong Lake shimmered with a golden brilliance, its surface resembling a tapestry of silk caught in a breeze. A black sedan moved smoothly along the lakeside road, the green reflections of willow branches dancing across the glass windows. Inside, the air conditioning held the early summer heat at bay, maintaining a serene atmosphere. Driver Xiao Zhang steered with focused precision, eyes fixed on the road, while Wei Zheng sat in the passenger seat, visibly restless. He frequently glanced toward the backseat through the rearview mirror, his fingers reflexively rubbing the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of his growing agitation. "Speak your mind if you have something to say," a gentle voice drifted from the backseat. It was Shi Chengyi, the old minister, resting with his eyes closed as if he could perceive his disciple’s discomfort through his very skin. "You've been squirming since we left—is there a nail in your seat?" Wei Zheng chuckled nervously, finally turning around to voice his frustration: "Teacher, I simply cannot grasp it. The terms Fang Cheng requested—job freedom and the investigation of that cold case—those are reasonable. But... the fact that he requested to join as a Traditional Martial Artist but wants to remain exclusively within the Medical Team, avoiding any confrontation with our 'Technology Transformation Faction' enemies..." Wei Zheng gestured helplessly. "If we possess a blade this sharp and refuse to test it against the Ling family’s suppressors, where is the progress? Why go through such exertion, having you personally recruit him, if he is merely to serve as a glorified doctor for the team?" Shi Chengyi opened his eyes slowly, fixating on the glistening lake before offering a subtle, knowing smile. He gestured toward the fierce, radiant sun through the window. "Xiao Wei, look at that light. The sun emerges from the void; it does not explicitly choose to light the path for any specific individual. Yet, it burns with such intensity that it alters everything in its orbit. All life flourishes in its grace—not because the sun is kind, but because it possesses overwhelming power. It is powerful enough to warp the very fabric of space and influence the ecology of galaxies." Wei Zheng sat in silence, his expression softening as he processed the lesson. Shi Chengyi continued, his voice calm yet heavy with authority: "Fang Cheng is a sun yet to reach its zenith. He does not need to wave banners or scream slogans to lead our cause. We simply provide the soil and the sky. As long as he stays with the Special Search Team and continues his growth, the day will come when his martial prowess is enough to shatter their technological follies. Even if he remains still, his existence will become the beacon for every Martial Artist in existence. When that happens, the entire structure of the world will shift to accommodate his gravity. Compared to such a transformation, do his minor office preferences really matter? Always remember: at that level, the presence of a true master is a law unto itself." Wei Zheng took a deep breath, his admiration palpable. "I see it now... I was blinded by short-term gains, forgetting that his talent rivals even Chief Li’s. He is not merely a recruit; he is a pillar of our nation's future." Shi Chengyi closed his eyes, his smile fading into a look of quiet satisfaction. Wei Zheng straightened his back, eyes locked on the road ahead with newfound resolve and anticipation. The future of the East Capital was changing, and for the first time in an age, the Martial Artist forces had a future worth fighting for.

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A ferocious wind wailed across the expanse, carrying sand and grit into the leaden sky. This place felt untethered from the world, a forgotten, desolate corner of reality. Heavy clouds, dark as scorched iron, pressed down in suffocating layers, obscuring any hint of sunlight or life. Sharp gusts cut through the air like invisible blades, leaving the barren landscape void of vegetation or comfort. Only jagged black rock remained, scarred by aeons of fire. In the center of this wasteland stood an immense skyscraper of black stone, a spear-like structure piercing the iron clouds to reach into the chaotic void above. Constant purple lightning crackled around its summit, rumbling like the deep, rhythmic respiration of a hibernating deity. At the tower’s base, bronze doors of colossal height sat sealed shut. A man stood before them, dressed in a flowing white robe, his features as delicate as jade, his black hair tied back simply. The violent wind and gravel simply parted three feet from his person, unable to touch him. He was a silent monolith in a sea of turbulence. Tap, tap, tap. A heavy rhythmic sound broke the stillness. A burly figure emerged through the dust storm: a man with chiseled European features, wild red hair, and a chest mapped with ancient, jagged scars. As he moved closer, the freezing air warmed in his proximity, and the very ground vibrated as if disturbed by a dormant volcano. The man in white opened his eyes, his gaze chilling and devoid of warmth. "Halt." His voice was quiet, yet it carried clearly through the screaming wind. The red-haired man stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the lightning-drenched spire with a flicker of complex hesitation before returning his gaze to the robed guardian. "Is the master still in seclusion?"