084 analyzed the situation, weighing it thoughtfully against the answer provided by the system interface.
Because he was injured that night, he had no choice but to visit the hospital, which inadvertently stirred up many painful memories from Chen Jue’s youth.
First among these was the long period his mother spent in the county hospital before succumbing to cancer. Originally, Chen Jue was a carefree child, much like any other from the countryside, but from the fourth or fifth grade onward, his life lost the happiness it once had. His mother’s worsening illness forced him to frequent hospitals, exposing him to wounds and diseases he could not comprehend, and to the constant worry etched on his family’s faces.
Cancer, a disease that even now, decades later, still evokes fear and dread across generations. It is worth mentioning that in his childhood, Chen Jue was famed as the village prodigy, effortlessly mastering mathematics, physics, and chemistry, winning awards in math competitions through elementary and middle school, his precocity renowned throughout the village.
From a young age, he was intelligent and considerate, praised by villagers and relatives alike, the very embodiment of the “child from someone else’s family” made famous online. Yet Chen Jue’s journey was hardly smooth; the successive deaths of his parents divided his attention from his studies, and his lack of linguistic talent meant his grades in English and Chinese suffered greatly.
As a result, he could never display his true intellectual capacity in standardized exams like the high school and college entrance tests. His story echoed the oft-repeated cautionary tale of “Lost Talent,” confirming the old saying: “Brilliance in youth does not guarantee greatness in adulthood.”
A scientist once hypothesized that every person is born a genius, endowed with incredible abilities by nature, but lacking a nurturing environment to awaken this potential, it inevitably fades. Chen Jue was one such prodigy, deprived of proper guidance and an educational environment, battered by the loss of his family, and shaped by the ridicule of relatives into a sensitive, self-effacing, introverted soul. Even suffering from mild social anxiety, he avoided conversation and feared dealing with strangers, having faced more hardships by twenty than many do in a lifetime.
In his pursuit of knowledge, he grew numb, lax, and distracted, unable to embark on a better path. Yet even with such a background, Chen Jue managed to enter a third-tier university, adapt quickly across various professions, often learning faster and advancing sooner than others.
However, with job competition intensifying, the economy declining, and his own personality flaws hindering his ability to take outward-facing roles, he was eventually dismissed. All these recollections flooded Chen Jue as he reviewed his life up to this point, leading to a sudden realization:
The initial panel attributes granted to him might not reflect his current state, but rather his body’s historical peak!
The intellect score of 1.24 was a peak value, not his present capacity. This explained why Chen Jue could master martial arts so swiftly—his learning ability still lingered, even at twenty-seven, enabling him to squeeze out the remnants of his youthful brilliance.
In a different environment, perhaps his peak intellect of 1.24 would have manifested more profoundly, maybe even persisted to this day. Though he might never reach the heights of a great scientist like Einstein, he could have attended a better university and gone much further in his academic pursuits.
The impact of upbringing and education is immense; a change in environment can utterly alter a person’s destiny. To use an analogy, imagine a fitness enthusiast who, after two or three years of training, achieves a strength attribute of “1,” but then lapses into neglect and indulgence, ceasing to exercise. After years of such neglect, could he still exert that level of strength? The answer is obviously no!
After years of idleness, his body no longer retains that peak strength. If he tried to deadlift hundreds of pounds again, he would only injure himself—the original “1” slowly dissipates and can only be regained through renewed training.
Just like Chen Jue now, injured yet with a panel still displaying a terrifying strength value of 2.77, but unable to fully realize it in his weakened state, unable to lift the 200kg dumbbell in his living room. You can see the number, but you cannot unleash its full potential.
The recent martial arts training had helped Chen Jue rediscover his body’s latent peak attributes, and through a series of enhancements and aggressive supplementation, he transformed into a state beyond ordinary humanity. Martial arts served as tools to develop and control these attributes, helping him regain his lost peaks and, through further enhancements, surpass them.
Alternatively, excessive training might lower his peak, only for nutrition and foundational exercises to restore it once more.
Reflecting on his childhood and educational years, Chen Jue recalled his robust health, rarely sick, unlike classmates who frequently took leave to visit hospitals. In PE, his endurance and recovery surpassed his peers. Only after entering the workforce did his original peak constitution of 0.98 begin to wane.
Intellect followed a similar pattern. With a panel displaying a peak of 1.24, how much of it could Chen Jue still wield today?
Yet Chen Jue felt there remained many mysteries regarding intellect, for it involved the most enigmatic part of the human body—the brain, the so-called forbidden domain of God. He realized that mere reflection and analysis would not unravel its secrets, so he abandoned further speculation for now.
Having understood these points, all his previous doubts and contradictions fell away. He sensed that this awakening panel was not merely for martial arts development, but was guiding his body’s metamorphosis, allowing him to fully master himself, harness his attributes to their fullest, and embark on a path unimaginable to those before him.
As these thoughts settled, he gazed again at the intellect attribute of 1.24. The once-clear panel began to distort and blur, leaving only a single line of text: [Updating, please wait patiently]
“Well then!” he muttered, “Another patch update?”
“This system really keeps up with the times.” Unable to resist, Chen Jue voiced his complaint, feeling as though some higher-dimensional being was observing him, and the warmth of his bed suddenly felt cold.
Even without the panel, he could sense his injured body slowly recovering, his stomach digesting the seafood porridge, and the taste of blood in his throat fading under the effects of medicine.
Clearly, even without the panel, Chen Jue could roughly gauge his physical condition, proving that his recent martial arts training wasn’t just a puppet show—he wasn’t dependent on the panel for survival.
“Time for some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep, and check again tomorrow.”