Lyth Equipment Mart.
Everyone's gaze lingered mostly between Andrew Han and Helen Han, their faces displaying dramatic and vivid expressions, unsure how to react.
Because this reversal was simply too abrupt.
The chairman they had nervously come to meet turned out to be the younger cousin of their classmate Helen Han. If they had learned this under normal circumstances, their eyes would have popped in shock.
But the problem was... all of this was set up by Kevin Wang.
If it weren’t for Kevin Wang’s actions as a backdrop, the scene before them wouldn’t be so theatrical, and their emotions wouldn’t be such a tangled mess.
Mostly, they felt awkward and embarrassed.
One girl’s face flushed bright red, her whole body trembling—not so much out of shock, but because the situation felt so bizarre and hilarious she could barely suppress her laughter.
It was funny.
It was just too funny!
Every confident word Kevin Wang had uttered now seemed like a boundless waterfall, pouring down over him and soaking him to the bone.
"Pfft."
She finally couldn’t hold it in and let out a low laugh.
The other classmates exchanged glances, as if they’d just watched a badly made TV drama.
Kevin Wang was stunned, but he wasn’t stupid. He immediately understood Andrew Han’s true status, his heart trembling with fear and bitterness.
Come on!
Helen Han, you have a cousin like this, but you introduced him as just a high-school senior back then. Was there ever any real classmate friendship?
Sigh.
Kevin Wang stood there like a drenched chicken, frozen in place, not daring to move or speak.
He had always thought Manager Shaw was already a formidable figure, striding like a dragon or tiger. But witnessing Manager Shaw’s exaggerated deference now, he understood just how extraordinary Andrew Han’s status really was, and couldn’t help but feel afraid.
The more you yearn for something, the more exaggerated your thoughts become.
For example, Kevin Wang was thinking, what if Andrew Han got angry and sent someone to kill him... All because he pursued Grace Chen and provoked Helen Han, which in turn annoyed Andrew Han—wouldn’t that be a truly senseless way to lose his life?
On the other side.
Helen Han couldn’t be bothered with Kevin Wang and just laughed, "Cousin, now that you’re the chairman, I hardly dare call you Little Dong anymore."
"Haha, then should you call me Big Dong?" Andrew Han replied cheerfully.
Back when he was short on money, it was his cousin Helen Han who lent him the funds.
Helen Han hadn’t asked many questions and had simply sent a WeChat transfer, even helping him keep it secret from Uncle George Han and her own parents.
Some relatives aren’t worth helping at all.
But relatives like Uncle George Han and cousin Helen Han are rare and precious—Andrew Han cherished them deeply.
...
Whoosh, whoosh.
The air conditioning in the equipment mart kept blowing out cold air.
Helen Han smiled as she discussed the sponsorship details with Manager Shaw, while the other classmates hovered nearby, sometimes exclaiming, sometimes praising—the atmosphere lively and harmonious.
After a while.
"Thank you for these proposals, Manager Shaw," Helen Han said. "Afterward, my classmates can work out the implementation details with you. I won’t participate further."
As she spoke,
she nudged forward the girl who had earlier whispered advice to her.
Manager Shaw nodded in surprise but didn’t say much more.
The other classmates looked at Helen Han in confusion, unable to understand. The sponsorship was already settled—why give up such a clear achievement and hand it over to someone else?
"Xiao Hui?" the girl called out, equally puzzled.
"It's nothing. I don't plan to stay in the student union anymore. What I want is fair and reasonable growth, not this," Helen Han said with a gentle sigh, her eyes firm.
In fact, she’d had this idea in her heart even before they set out.
Whoever secures the sponsorship gets to be the student union’s vice-president? She didn’t understand it. The student union was supposed to serve students—how had it become a miniature company or government office? A place like this was better left behind.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side.
Kevin Wang stood alone, trembling.
Gavin King stood nearby, smiling mildly. "Don’t worry. Mr. Han is a gentle and kind person. He just hopes you won’t clash with Miss Helen again."
With that,
he pulled up some information on his phone and handed it to Kevin Wang.
Huh?
Kevin Wang, puzzled, took it and looked closely. His face went pale in an instant, his heart skipping a beat: "Is this... my family's detailed profile?"
Gulp.
Kevin Wang pressed his lips together, his mind suddenly blank.
Gavin King narrowed his eyes, quietly pondering Andrew Han’s earlier instruction before leaving: handle it properly. That took some thought... If it had been 'clean it up,' he would have known exactly what to do.
——
Night fell at the Han home.
Darkness.
In the middle of the darkness, four bright candles suddenly flickered, illuminating Lucy Han’s round, chubby face and her big, sparkling eyes.
Hoo!
Lucy puffed hard, blowing out the candles with effort.
As the candles went out, the living room lights flicked on. Andrew Han smiled warmly, "Happy birthday."
William Han and Linda Chen joined in the birthday wishes.
At the same time, Miles Ning’s wrinkled, radiant face broke into a kindly, beaming smile.
"Wow!"
Lucy’s round eyes stared at the big cake in front of her.
This fruit cake was specially commissioned by Miles Ning from Victor Dong, with strict instructions: no preservatives allowed, fruit sliced fresh on site. The difficulty was extreme, and the cost at least several thousand yuan, not counting labor.
In this moment,
Linda Chen smiled, moved by a quiet sense of wonder. "This noble, upright Mr. Ning is truly thoughtful—he found out Lucy loves fruit and sent such a refined fruit cake."
But still—
This cake must be custom-made. It’s definitely not cheap.
How did she know? Just seeing the cake surface covered in fine strips of orange made her gasp in admiration, and tasting the pitted cherries inside left her stunned.
Mr. Ning... truly generous.
"Delicious, delicious!" Lucy said happily, her cheeks flushed.
"Haha, if it’s delicious, eat more!" William Han said lovingly, patting his daughter’s head, unable to stop smiling with satisfaction.
Yes, what more could one ask for?
His lifelong wish had been more than fulfilled—his son Andrew Han had been admitted to Southland University.
A university!
In the past, he’d never dared to imagine it. He would have been thrilled just for his son to enter a key university. But now, Andrew had apprenticed under Miles Ning, and had a future full of promise.
As for his daughter Lucy Han, she was growing up bit by bit.
William Han understood: when both his children spread their wings and fly, it would mark his own entry into old age.
"Little Dong really has grown up," William Han said, eating cake and watching Andrew Han and Lucy play together, his heart full of mixed emotions. "I hope... I hope Lucy can grow up a bit slower, not too fast."
In truth, he and Linda Chen felt the same.
Every time he thought of Andrew Han soon leaving home for Southland University, he felt reluctant, but deep down he was full of sincere blessings.
But still—
Recently, the local officials had planned to honor him as an outstanding individual merchant, but the news suddenly vanished. He hoped nothing troublesome had come up. William Han pondered for a while, then saw Miles Ning teaching Lucy about kindness and morality, and breathed a sigh of relief.
With Mr. Ning around, there should be no problem.
Still,
A flash of confusion crossed William Han’s eyes... First, why would someone with such a mysterious background as Miles Ning care so much about children’s education? Second, why did his son Andrew always look so odd whenever Mr. Ning visited, sometimes even twitching his mouth?
Every time Mr. Ning is here, this kid acts strange.
He seemed nervous, even speechless. But the lessons Mr. Ning taught Lucy about kindness were truly incisive and profound.
Thinking this,
he shook his head and swallowed a bite of cake.
——
Time quietly slipped by, like flowing water.
It was August 27th, just four days before Andrew Han would leave for Southland University.
In the bedroom.
With the curtains drawn, the room felt especially quiet.
Andrew Han, wearing a vest, sat on the edge of the bed, listening to Lucy’s steady breathing as she napped. Now and then she mumbled about tasty food, filling the moment with a warm atmosphere.
He listened for a while, then couldn’t help but smile.
In the Martial Arts World, listening through walls wasn’t unusual, but the key was that Andrew Han could hear Lucy’s faint breathing—something even most martial practitioners couldn’t manage.
Nothing else—
It’s simply that Andrew Han’s body is far too strong.
The Graywhite Aura hasn’t just granted Andrew extraordinary, robust internal power—it’s made his body stronger, endlessly, without pause.
And all this, Andrew has gradually begun to understand.
“Normally, even Martial Artists can’t punch open a stainless-steel safe. At minimum, you’d need to reach Martial General and manifest liquid Internal Power.”
“Liquid Internal Power can flow across the body’s surface, reinforcing your flesh.”
“As for the mist-like Internal Power of Martial Artists, it can only vaguely protect your body, preventing injury during fierce combat. But I don’t need to worry about that—just my body alone, even without condensed strength, probably rivals a First Rank practitioner.”
He pondered for a moment.
Andrew flexed his hand, letting out a gentle sigh. “Who can tell me… if my internal fusion reaches eighty or ninety percent, right before I break through to Martial Artist, just how strong will I be?”
Up to now, his fusion was less than twenty percent.
Even so, he already matched a Middle Martial Artist.
For a Peerless First Rank, true brilliance comes when fusion nears eighty or ninety percent. Inspiration-centered First Rank can suppress Middle Martial Artists; a First Rank with a transcendent technique can even rival Upper Martial Artists.
Crack, crack.
Andrew clenched his fist, his eyes resolute. “A transcendent technique—I will comprehend it!”
Just then, the phone on his desk buzzed. He walked over and glanced at it—it was a private QQ message from his high school classmate, Cathy Feng.
On the screen,
Cathy Feng sent an emoticon of a ‘bored corgi’: Andrew, check the class group chat—everyone’s about to explode.
Andrew replied, “What’s going on?”
Cathy responded instantly: It’s about Jason Jiang—everyone knows now.
Oh?
News of Jason Jiang’s death spread so slowly?
If this had happened before the college entrance exam, Andrew might have felt a pang of guilt. But now, after all this time, it’s hard to sympathize with someone who went looking for death.
He’d warned him again and again—he’d done his best.
Right after that,
He scrolled through the high school class group chat. Sure enough, everyone was talking, their words tinged with panic—the typical mindset of freshly graduated high schoolers.
He hadn’t planned to get involved, but after all, they were classmates.
Andrew tapped out a message: Please trust the official government report. There’s no need to get lost in pointless emotions.
The moment he sent it, the group chat fell dead silent.
It was as if a group of lively rabbits had suddenly turned into frozen statues; the heated discussion stopped instantly, and no one said a word.
Only Andrew’s message remained,
Sitting alone at the bottom of the chat window.
He waited one minute… two… three—and still, no one replied. Andrew looked in the mirror, speechless.
“I’m such a model youth—”
“If you won’t trust me, fine, but how could you not trust the government?” he sighed inwardly.
It was a heartfelt sigh—everything has two sides. Without the government, Sinovera would be a mess; ‘people can’t make a living’ wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Just look at some weaker countries abroad—war everywhere, people in rags, missing persons rates so high it’s horrifying… Ordinary citizens in Sinovera might not know the truth about monsters and ghosts, but you have to admit, the government does a solid job.
His eyes flashed.
With a decisive tap, Andrew steeled himself and sent out a red packet that made his heart ache—a QQ password-protected red packet: Trust the government!
Now that he was wealthy, he believed that if he was going to send a red packet, it should be generous—not stingy… and certainly not less than Louis Zheng, who only chats using WeChat red packets.
Moments later,
Cathy Feng claimed the red packet first, then exclaimed: "Two hundred and two yuan! Quick, grab it!"