Chapter 053: Heart Rate Soars!

With a swift kick, Chen Jue broke through the surface of the water.

He was astonished to find that, after unleashing the hidden force in his legs, he could lift more than half his body out of the water, with only the tops of his thighs still immersed. Although he had yet to reach the legendary realm described by internet martial arts enthusiasts—where “the water rises no higher than the knees”—he was clearly approaching that level.

Placing one hand on the still-spinning boat, Chen Jue exerted himself and flipped nimbly onto its deck. Shaking the water from his body, he rowed to the shore, grabbed his weighted vest and bands for his hands and feet, and then dashed down the mountain at full speed.

After a hot shower and changing into clean clothes, he glanced at his status panel. To his surprise, it now required a whopping 2,000 proficiency points to advance his Level 3 Taiji Fist and Standing Practice even further—nearly double what he had anticipated!

Fortunately, with his underwater training, the blessing of Pure Yang Master Lü, and the realm of Small Success in Hidden Force, the three powers combined, Chen Jue felt no fear of this demanding threshold.

As for his free attribute points, he had accumulated an impressive 0.11 in just one night, setting a new personal record for attribute gains. Chen Jue surmised this was due to his Level 3 skills, the underwater environment, and the assistance of hidden force—all converging to produce such a windfall.

“A pity! I still haven’t fully mastered channeling the hidden force through my whole body—just a little more to go,” Chen Jue thought as he tore his gaze away from the panel and sat down to rest for half an hour.

He sensed that the energy from his evening meal had been entirely spent during his breakthrough, and soon his stomach felt empty once more.

“I might as well go out for a midnight snack!”

“With my current speed and leg strength, it won’t take me long to run to the night market in Panlong Town.” He grabbed his phone and set off without hesitation.

Now, with his martial arts greatly improved and his mind clear, every aspect of life—walking, sitting, eating, resting—was guided by spontaneous intent. Whatever he thought to do, he did immediately, no longer bound by the constraints of his former city life.

This was a transformation of body and soul—a true rebirth. The change was not physical alone; his spirit, too, shed its old framework and embraced a new attitude toward life.

...

The countryside at night was particularly tranquil. With summer giving way to autumn, the incessant cicadas that had plagued the sweltering days had fallen silent, though the faint chirping of crickets could still be heard along the rural paths.

Now and then, a frog or toad would croak in the darkness, perhaps making its final preparations for hibernation by venturing out to feed at night.

The mountain road to Panlong Town twisted and turned, but it was paved with cement, smooth and clean, with streetlights every hundred meters—nothing like the pitch-black nights of Chen Jue’s childhood.

He sprinted at top speed along the road, curious how long it would now take him to reach Panlong Town, even timing himself with his phone’s stopwatch.

Passing through Linjia Village, he often glimpsed villagers returning from the city in their cars, DJ music thumping so loudly it could be heard hundreds of meters away. Nearing home, these drivers were engrossed in the pulsing beats and paid no attention to the fleeting shadow of a figure in gray athletic wear who flashed past their car in a blur, vanishing around the next bend.

A few more alert drivers might have sensed someone passing, but in the darkness—and with their confidence on these mountain roads—they rarely slowed down, merely muttering to themselves, “Did someone just run by?”

Then they thought no more of it, heading home to rest.

Chen Jue, relieved of the seventy kilograms of added weight, ran like a cheetah across the African plains. The wind howled in his ears, the streetlights flicked past in rapid succession, and the countryside scenery rushed by in reverse. His pores closed, warm energy surged through his body—he was channeling the power he’d learned from training directly into his stride.

Village after village—Chen Family Village, Linjia Village, Shannan Primary School, Yanxia Village—flashed by. He darted past the new settlement near the highway, leaving behind each familiar rural landmark.

When he reached the national road, he took a shortcut that led straight to Panlong Town. Without stopping once, Chen Jue sprinted a total of six kilometers, finally slowing as the night market came into view. He stopped the stopwatch on his phone.

Standing in a dark, unlit corner, he performed a standing practice to dissipate the internal heat. Warmth poured from his open pores in a rush, shrouding him in a cloud of white vapor.

After several seconds, the steam dispersed. Chen Jue glanced down at his phone: “10 minutes, 9 seconds.”

“Not bad! Still room for improvement!” He smiled, then checked the heart-rate reading on his sports watch.

He was amazed at the strain he’d placed on his heart by sustaining a single breath for so long. His peak heart rate had soared to 220 beats per minute!

For reference, the highest recorded human heart rates peak at around 210 bpm. Chen Jue, simply by running out for a midnight snack, had easily surpassed that.

Even the app on his sports watch issued a bright red warning, urging him to seek medical attention or rest immediately.

But what could he do? The number was simply too high!

A heart rate above 200 bpm often leads to tissue hypoxia, heart failure, even sudden death in normal people. But Chen Jue was anything but normal. His heart had broken past conventional limits—both lower and upper thresholds. The faster his heart beat, the stronger its supply of blood and oxygen.

Judging by how easily he’d finished a six-kilometer sprint and still had energy left, 220 beats per minute might not even be his true limit.

“What a useless app,” he grumbled. “You can’t even adjust the normal heart rate range manually? Terrible.”

He took off his smart watch and slipped it into his pocket. Once his sweat had dried, he strolled leisurely toward the Panlong Town night market.

The night market lay along the riverbank behind Panlong Town. The river was called the Yun River, running through An County and emptying into the sea. The water was murky and silt-laden, but the river was wide, free of foul odors, and cooled by river breezes. The river’s curve embraced the town, and the enterprising locals had transformed this stretch into a bustling night market.

Several rustic restaurants lined the banks, their rowdy singing echoing like a riverside karaoke bar—a unique blend of food and music found only in the city’s outskirts. There were barbecue stalls with tables stretching along the embankment, and street vendors selling all manner of snacks: stinky tofu, fried skewers, spicy hot pot, braised dishes, fried chicken strips—all sourced from the surrounding countryside, with fresh fish and shrimp drawing in gourmets from the city.

Chen Jue wandered through the market, buying a heap of his favorite childhood snacks without a care for cleanliness. At a night market, one doesn’t fuss over such things.

Hands full, he found a seat at a riverside stall, ordered a plate of Pingyang fried rice noodles, a jug of ice-cold beer, a dish of peanuts and edamame, twenty grilled yellow croakers, lamb and beef skewers, vegetable skewers, and half a pound of Hulingshire ribs.

Leaning back in his plastic chair, looking out at the endlessly flowing Yun River, feeling the river breeze on his face, savoring good food and cold beer, Chen Jue felt utterly at ease.

Perhaps, this was the life he had always dreamed of.