Chapter 71: Young Man, Could You Teach Me? [Seeking Tips]

As Tang Shen glanced over the news, which analyzed everything with such apparent precision, he merely skimmed through it, then gave a faint, dismissive smile and closed the window. How ridiculous! Did they really believe that a heap of cold numbers could reveal the truth? Up to this point, only he had truly experienced the formidable nature of this holographic game. Just like gene warriors in the real world, as strength grows, all those statistics become nothing more than reference points. Even if one side holds the advantage on paper, real combat never unfolds according to those figures. This was merely the beginning—only the beginning.

After aimlessly browsing for a while, he shut down the computer, lay down on his bed, and this time, drifted straight into sleep. That night, he slept soundly and deeply. By the next day, though he had gone to bed late, his internal clock still woke him at precisely four thirty in the morning. He’d slept just over three hours, yet Tang Shen felt no trace of fatigue. With his current strength and mental state, he could go days without sleep and feel no ill effect.

He sprang from bed with a swift motion, darted into the bathroom to wash up, ate a tasteless, budget-friendly meal replacement, and reached for his gaming helmet, ready to log in. But once the helmet was on, he found himself staring into nothingness—the login screen didn’t appear, and there was no response. After five seconds of silence, he remembered: today, the system was undergoing a three-day update—a situation he himself had caused.

For a brief moment, he felt oddly unsettled. The meticulously regimented routine he’d followed for two months, as precise as a schedule written on paper, had suddenly been disrupted. It made his whole body feel ill at ease. He quietly removed the helmet, set it aside, and lay flat on the bed, wide awake and utterly alert, with not a hint of drowsiness. For a while, he simply didn’t know what to do.

Soon, he pushed open the door and stepped outside. For the first time since the launch of the holographic game, over two months ago, he went out. It was five o’clock. The sky was still shrouded in darkness, not a star in sight, only a great moon, round as a jade platter, hanging above. The sun had yet to rise, and the air still carried a trace of coolness. But Tang Shen felt nothing of it.

At this hour, both the neighborhood and the streets were deserted, with only the streetlights illuminating the empty world. He wandered without purpose, eventually entering a community square. Finding a quiet corner facing east, he slowly lowered himself into a horse stance. With nothing else to do, he might as well practice his posture. It was almost comical—after two months of virtual training, this was his first time holding the stance in real life. He sank his breath into his abdomen, let his energy settle downward. Instantly, it felt as if a force anchored his feet to the ground, and he became as motionless as a statue.

The sensation was both different from and similar to what he knew in the game; distracting thoughts gradually faded, his mind emptying. Time slipped by. As dawn broke and a crimson sun edged above the horizon, the city’s earliest risers—the street cleaners—emerged to begin their day. Yet, those cleaning the square discovered that someone had beaten them there. Had they not seen the rise and fall of his chest or heard his heavy breathing, they might have mistaken him for a sculpture.

Gradually, more people arrived—mostly elderly folks out for a morning stroll or exercise. Many cast curious glances at the solitary figure, so still and incongruous, who from afar seemed almost like a hill rising from the ground. People whispered and speculated among themselves; none recognized him. Some of the old-timers, daily visitors to the square, had never seen this young man before. One particularly spirited elder even tried to imitate his posture, only to fail—his form awkward, or else he toppled backward outright. It was impossible to hold steady; after all, their bodies were stiff and set with age.

Then, suddenly—clang! The motionless figure opened his eyes, facing the rising sun. For an instant, his gaze flashed with a brilliance like burning bulbs. Some thought they saw it; others weren’t sure, dazzled by the reflected sunlight in his eyes.

He exhaled a deep breath, and in the summer air, it condensed into a visible, slender white mist that lingered for a few seconds before dissolving. Tang Shen felt utterly refreshed, his body lightly perspiring but completely invigorated.

The onlookers were astonished.
“He opened his eyes!”
“So the young man really is alive.”
“Incredible! He held that position perfectly still for so long.”
“Old Wu, didn’t you want to ask about his stance? Go on, ask him!”
“Would he even be willing to teach?”

Tang Shen noticed the ring of people surrounding him and was momentarily surprised; he’d been so absorbed in his first real horse stance that he'd lost track of everything else. Though many seemed curious, thankfully, none had disturbed him—had they touched him, he would have opened his eyes immediately. He offered a faint smile, turned, and prepared to leave.

“Young man, wait!” A voice called out behind him. Tang Shen turned in surprise to see an old man, likely in his sixties, with a head of white hair but a vigorous demeanor and an air of authority that hinted at years spent in a high position.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?” Tang Shen asked politely. He had no recollection of this elder and was certain they’d never met, but he respected his elders as he always did.

The old man hesitated, then spoke: “Young man, what was that posture you just held? How could you stay so still for so long? Would you be willing to teach me?”

Tang Shen suddenly understood—the man had watched him hold the stance for so long and wanted to learn. He smiled gently and replied, “No.”

He turned and walked away, leaving the old man’s expression frozen in surprise. The look on the elder’s face was almost comical—it was clear he hadn’t expected such a blunt, decisive answer. Tang Shen gave him not the slightest opening, nor did he hesitate to leave, making it clear he had no interest in further conversation.

Initially, the old man had found Tang Shen polite, which is why he’d hesitated before asking. He certainly hadn’t expected such a direct refusal. Most people, even if unwilling to teach, would at least offer a reason! And that smile he gave beforehand—how glaring it was!

“What a character, that young man,” the old man muttered to himself. He could say nothing more, after all; he’d only wanted to learn something from another. It was only natural for someone to refuse.

When he looked up again, Tang Shen was already gone. Yet the young man’s distinctive answer and unique posture lingered in his memory.