Chapter Sixteen: Take Action!

At six in the morning, Gao Wu awoke from deep slumber right on schedule.

The previous night had been busy—he spent half the evening settling the video collaboration, chatted long with Shang Qingjun, and capped it off with an injection of the Blood Dragon serum. The night life was, in every sense, fulfilling.

He swiftly dealt with his morning hygiene, dressed in his weighted vest, and stepped outside.

At the school gate, he waited for two minutes before Shen Yue arrived, riding his electric scooter.

Today, Shen Yue planned to film Gao Wu’s workout, turning it into a short video for upload. He had even prepared a small drone for the occasion.

The new camera, equipped with facial recognition, would lock onto Gao Wu’s face and automatically follow him, capturing every move.

“Is your scooter up for it?” Gao Wu cautioned, “It’s nearly twenty-five kilometers round trip.”

“Forty kilometers is nothing. Don’t worry,” Shen Yue patted the seat beneath him, his face brimming with confidence.

Battery wasn’t his concern; it was the biting cold of the early morning, riding dozens of kilometers on an electric scooter—a true hardship.

Shen Yue hung a sports camera on Gao Wu’s chest, while he himself wore a head-mounted version.

“Strive for self-improvement, forge a stronger self! Let’s do this!”

Gao Wu pointed at the camera, shouting with passion, then turned and broke into a brisk run.

This routine was borrowed from a popular influencer of his previous life, adjusted slightly in hopes of replicating that path to success in this world.

Small influencers could rise swiftly with mature commercial strategies, but becoming a major one was a kind of mystical art. No one could predict which point would hit the market’s nerve and bring in massive traffic. Sustaining that traffic was even more complex.

Gao Wu’s desire to be an influencer was mainly to accrue merit, though earning money from it would be highly desirable.

With money, he could buy all sorts of top-tier resources, ensuring his family a better life. Alas, making money in any world was never easy.

Here, martial artists were everywhere, and short workout videos abounded—a stark contrast to his previous life.

Fortunately, most martial artists focused on teaching techniques or flaunting their prowess and wealth, unaware of the true nature of short videos.

Few sought knowledge through these videos, nor did many wish to watch others show off; most only wanted emotional value, to please themselves.

In his view, emotion was the heart of short videos.

Saving lives evokes a strong positive emotion; turning the tide against adversity is another. Such videos, full of story and emotion, were rare.

His workout videos weren’t meant to teach others how to train, but to convey a positive, uplifting attitude.

In this, Gao Wu felt he had a distinct advantage. It suited his personality, requiring no contrived persona...

He wore lightweight sportswear, an eighty-kilogram weighted vest over it, yet his steps remained agile and powerful.

The drone followed him, hovering from an angle above, circling him occasionally.

Shen Yue trailed behind on the scooter. After a short run, Gao Wu was enveloped in white vapor, while Shen Yue’s face was blue from the cold, shivering all over.

Leaving the city, the wind was icy and unshielded by buildings. Shen Yue had prepared, but not for this level of cold.

Whether out of friendship or for the short video venture, he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

White Dragon Mountain wasn’t tall—seven or eight hundred meters—but Shen Yue lacked the strength to climb it. Thankfully, the drone could still follow Gao Wu.

Gao Wu spent half an hour atop the mountain, practicing the Nine Forms of the Dragon, then ran back to his dormitory.

Shen Yue’s nose ran from the cold, and he took the video footage home first. Gao Wu guessed he’d caught a cold.

Sure enough, Shen Yue missed class that morning.

By noon, Shen Yue contacted Gao Wu via FlyMessage, sending the edited video.

It opened with Gao Wu pointing at the camera and shouting, “Strive for self-improvement, forge a stronger self!”

Then came a rapid sequence of workout shots, set to stirring music, quick cuts, ending with Gao Wu singing four lines from “Hot-Blooded Youth.”

The video lasted only twenty seconds, but its imagery effectively conveyed emotion, with a well-executed finish and a vibrant, passionate energy.

Gao Wu was pleased—Shen Yue indeed had some talent for video production, fulfilling his vision perfectly.

“You linked yesterday’s comeback and rescue videos, drew in some traffic, and the likes have surpassed thirty thousand, with thousands of comments. It’s catching on,” Shen Yue said. “I checked the leaderboard—your ranking’s already in the top two hundred, rapid progress!”

“It’s still too far off,” Gao Wu shook his head. The high school martial arts league was halfway through; unless he won one-on-five every match, he couldn’t break into the top ten.

That was impossible.

There were more than ten advanced martial artists in Dongjiang High School’s league, mostly concentrated in elite schools like First and Third High.

Even if he managed to beat one, it was unlikely he’d lead his team to victory.

Martial arts points were half team-based; no matter how skilled, an individual couldn’t achieve a high ranking alone. This was meant to foster collective consciousness in youth.

For martial arts academy admissions, personal points weighed heavily.

As for the school’s recommendation quota, Huang Hai would never grant it to him.

Besides, such quotas only led to second-rate schools—he wouldn’t accept it even if offered.

Only by reaching the top ten on the leaderboard would he qualify for an interview at Anjing University, the top institution in North Province.

From the start, Gao Wu’s goal was Anjing University—not only to reunite with Shang Qingjun, but to access the best martial arts resources in North Province.

In this world, martial arts had developed alongside biotechnology for over a century, forming a complete system forged by countless minds.

The Infinite Merit Book was wondrous, but ultimately just an auxiliary tool.

To achieve greatness in martial arts, to become the strongest in the world, he had to fully integrate into the modern martial arts system.

He could no longer earn enough personal points in the high school league. Fortunately, there were other ways to amass martial arts points.

He wasn’t even an advanced martial artist yet; diligent cultivation would come too late, so he had to rely as much as possible on the Infinite Merit Book’s marvels.

If he could elevate the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Mantra or awaken another divine mantra, he’d have confidence in entering Anjing University.

He and Shen Yue discussed ways to boost the video’s traffic—like sharing links in the class group, asking classmates to help spread it.

This method was inefficient but cost almost nothing.

Or, they could connect with the school and the High School Martial Arts League Committee, asking them to help promote it.

These organizations had many channels, with at least some local influence.

“We’re insignificant—school authorities won’t care…” Shen Yue suggested, “Why not try the Song family? They’re loaded and have huge influence everywhere.”

“Forget it.”

Gao Wu shook his head. He could tell Song Yunhe wasn’t truly interested, though the man hid it well.

“For now, let’s stick to this. Short videos are a matter of luck. Let’s focus on solid content—maybe the right opportunity will bring viral success.”

That afternoon, Gao Wu trained with heavy weights.

At the martial artist stage, the main focus was forging bones and sinews, with weightlifting as the primary method.

High-intensity, heavy training was needed to unlock the body’s potential. After all, the body was the foundation of martial arts, the key to awakening source power.

When Huang Long entered the training hall, he saw Gao Wu in a vest, deadlifting.

He glanced at the thick barbell plates, his heart tightening—eight hundred fifty kilograms, heavier than what he usually used.

Gao Wu worked through his sets with a clang, ten sets of deadlifts in one breath, displaying extraordinary endurance.

The intense anaerobic exercise made his veins bulge, power radiating from his tall, lean frame.

Other martial arts team members watched silently. Lifting eight hundred fifty kilograms wasn’t the most shocking part; it was the ten consecutive sets that struck terror.

Last time, Gao Wu’s victory over Bai Xiang could be chalked up to the serum.

Now, with training intensity at this level, all the martial arts members felt tremendous pressure—especially Huang Long...

Even Huang Hai was surprised. The Blood Dragon serum could stimulate blood and strengthen bones and muscles, but the body had its limits.

Training like Gao Wu could easily ruin oneself.

Yet he didn’t stop him, instead publicly praised Gao Wu and encouraged others to learn from him.

During a break, Huang Long couldn’t help but quietly ask Huang Hai, “Uncle, is the Blood Dragon serum really that effective? I want to try it too…”

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