Dragon Slayer:The King’s Return

When Lin Nian left the internet cafe and headed home, it was already evening. After knocking on the door for a while and receiving no answer, he suddenly remembered that Lin Xian was working the night shift and wasn't home. He looked around, and after a moment of thought, retrieved the spare key from under the doormat and entered the house.

The small apartment, about 60 to 70 square meters, was empty. Lin Nian had forgotten to close the windows before leaving, and the cold air filled the room. He opened the fridge, took out the leftover preserved meat from lunch, and stir-fried it with chives and cold rice. After a quick fry, he managed to prepare a bowl of hot, mixed food, which served as his dinner.

Eating alone at the table was often the most efficient way to have a meal. There was no one to talk to, no distractions, just the sound of chewing and chopsticks clinking against the bowl. Within a short time, the large bowl of food was gone. After washing the dishes and the pan, he sat on the sofa in the living room, opened his textbook, and started studying.

Lin Nian read quickly, especially when it came to liberal arts textbooks. He flipped through the history book one page at a time, averaging about fifteen seconds per page. In less than ten minutes, he finished half of it. He then closed the textbook, placed it on the table, and closed his eyes to think for a few minutes. Afterward, he opened the book again and continued through the second half. Once done, he repeated the process again. Finally, after finishing the entire book, he opened his eyes, signaling that he had memorized the textbook.

Yes, Lin Nian's first step in studying was memorizing the textbooks. Whenever he could improve his score by memorizing, he would memorize entire books. If his exam results in a subject weren't up to par, he would buy extra study materials to memorize them, until his results were among the top.

This is why Lin Nian never really liked the traditional education system. For liberal arts, he memorized, and for science, he practiced problems. When he saw a classical Chinese text, his first thought was, "I've memorized this," and when he saw a math problem, his first reaction was, "I've solved this before." As for English, he recognized every word on the test, was familiar with all grammar tenses, and found it hard not to get high marks. His first-place score in the high school entrance exam was proof of this.

Lin Xian always knew that Lin Nian was a genius, but she also knew that being called a genius wouldn't necessarily bring pure success or pride to him. At least, on his path of growth, being a genius would make Lin Nian very lonely, even subject to rejection and malicious treatment. So, for all these years, Lin Xian had worried about him and done a lot for him.

From what it looked like now, those efforts weren't in vain. At least, until today, Lin Nian only seemed to be a little "independent," not showing signs of misanthropy or any worse tendencies.

Lin Nian didn't understand what others thought of him. But if anyone called him a genius, he would definitely deny it, because he didn't think of himself as one. He felt that geniuses were only something used to describe people.

After about three or four hours of studying, the sky outside had darkened, and the street lights reflected off the glass window. Lin Nian closed the book, went into his room, and took out a bokuto (wooden sword) used for practice in Kendo.

The bokuto was a meter and a half long, shaped like an oversized chicken leg, and wrapped tightly in plastic. Lin Nian easily lifted it with one hand, but what no one knew was that the bokuto, from the shaft to the weighted parts, was made entirely of iron, weighing a full 50 pounds.

Lin Nian stood in the living room, holding the bokuto with both hands, lifting it above his head and performing a standard swinging motion. His face showed no signs of strain. After repeating the motion dozens of times, he switched to using one hand, and it still felt effortless.

"Strength is increasing again," Lin Nian thought as he set the bokuto down.

If the Kendo instructor from the Youth Palace had seen this, he would probably have yelled at Lin Nian as a freak and cried while asking to take him as an apprentice.

A 16-year-old boy wielding a 50-pound bokuto with ease was certainly not an ordinary sight. It wasn't world-shattering, but "talent beyond compare" would not be an exaggeration. However, Lin Nian's talent didn't stop there.

After over a hundred repetitions with both hands, Lin Nian broke a slight sweat. He put the bokuto away, took a shower, changed into his pajamas, and then sat down at the living room table with a deck of cards.

Of course, he wasn't planning to play cards alone. That would be impossible. Lin Nian placed the deck on the table, gently pressed with his thumb, and made the cards bend slightly. His eyes locked on the deck as his thumb exerted a small amount of pressure. One by one, the suits at the front of the deck flipped over. When he reached the halfway point, he suddenly used his left hand to grab a card and pulled out a colorful Joker.

Lin Nian shuffled the cards, then repeated the process. After flipping through a third of the deck, he pulled out the Joker again.

This was Lin Nian's daily "routine."

Knowing that he was exceptionally gifted, Lin Nian naturally wanted to understand just how gifted he truly was. But with every day, he found that he was improving, whether it was in memory, reflexes, or speed.

Lin Nian didn't know if this was a good thing, but he understood that everything has its limits. A person ahead of their time is a genius. A person two steps ahead is a madman. Similarly, those who are a step, two steps, or even three steps ahead of normal people are exceptionally gifted. But if someone is more than ten steps ahead, they can only be considered a monster, locked up in a hospital for research.

Lin Nian had always been very restrained in using his abilities. But in recent years, for some reason, it seemed his talents had entered a period of explosive growth, becoming stronger each day. It was like water leaking from a tightly sealed dam. One day, the dam would no longer hold back the floodwaters. The flood might contain whales or monsters—no one knew what lay behind the dam until it burst.

If Lin Nian were alone, he wouldn't worry about this. Talent is always better when there's more of it. If it becomes impossible to control, he could always leave. But the problem was that his life wasn't just his own.

After finishing his daily routine, Lin Nian put the cards away, glanced at the clock on the wall, and went into the kitchen to search for leftover ingredients. He found only tomatoes and eggs. He took them out, started cooking, and after twenty minutes, he placed the finished dish into the rice cooker with the steamed rice, turned off the power, washed the pan, and then went to bed.

About two hours later, the door to the living room opened with a key.

Lin Xian, looking tired, stepped inside and changed into slippers. She walked into the living room, laid back on the sofa to rest for a while, then took a deep breath and stood up to get ready to wash up and sleep. She had an early shift the next day.

As she passed the dining table, Lin Xian noticed a note there, written in Lin Nian's handwriting.

[There's food in the rice cooker. Eat it, and thanks for your hard work.]

She walked into the kitchen, opened the rice cooker, and saw a plate of brightly colored scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Lin Xian sniffed, took the dish out, and served herself a bowl of rice. She sat at the table, eating the meal in large bites, finishing everything before stopping. Without saying a word, she washed the dishes, turned off the living room lights, and returned to her room.

The door slammed shut, and in the dark room next door, Lin Nian opened his eyes, staring for a while before closing them again, eventually falling into a deep sleep.

That night, he had an inexplicable dream. In the dream, he was in a frozen, snowy world, sitting in a fortress, gazing at the dark sky through iron bars, seemingly waiting for the dawn.

(End of Chapter)