Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups

Sunlight passed through the spotless glass window, casting bright and warm patches of light on the corner of the desk.

In the air, fine dust danced joyfully in the beam of light.

Finally, it quietly settled on Fang Cheng's focused profile, coating his chiseled, handsome features with a soft golden hue.

The bedroom was silent.

Only the rhythmic "swoosh" of the pen gliding across paper echoed.

Clear, and reassuring.

On Fang Cheng's desk, various books and materials were piled up like a mountain.

"Explanation of the Civil Code," "General Theory of Criminal Law," "Analysis of One Hundred Crime Psychology Cases"...

These heavy professional tomes almost buried him entirely.

Knock, knock.

A gentle knocking broke the tranquility of the room.

"Ah Cheng."

Li Biyun's voice was hushed, as if afraid of disturbing her son's concentration:

"Mom made you a bowl of gastrodia braised pig brain soup, drink it while it's hot, don't wait until it gets cold."

She carried a white porcelain bowl of soup, carefully opened the door, and entered, her footsteps extremely light.

"Mm, Mom, just put it on the table."

Fang Cheng didn't lift his head, his eyes remained fixed on the files before him, the pen in his hand didn't pause for a moment.

Li Biyun dared not say more, gently placing the bowl of soup on a vacant corner of the desk.

With a bit of distress and expectation in her eyes, she cast a complicated glance at her son.

Then, she quietly withdrew, thoughtfully closing the door behind her.

Fang Cheng continued to bury his head, writing swiftly, completely immersed in the question sea.

Time passed by, minute by minute, with the "swoosh" sound of the pen touching paper.

Until he finished writing the argument of the last material analysis question, and firmly placed the final period.

Only then did he let out a long breath.

Fang Cheng raised his head, stretching his slightly stiff neck.

It's been a long time since he studied so seriously.

So much so that now he felt that sitting at the desk reading books and doing exercises seemed to consume more energy than simply exercising the body.

Fang Cheng smiled and shook his head, glancing at the alarm clock beside him.

The hour and minute hands pointed exactly at 11:05.

From starting this mock exam that was expected to take two hours, only less than forty minutes had passed.

A row of illusory light screen information quietly appeared before his eyes.

[Concentration Experience +3]

[Concentration lv2 (327/500)]

[Speed Reading Experience +3]

[Speed Reading lv2 (104/500)]

"As expected, this extreme state of mock exams is indeed the best way to gain experience."

Fang Cheng sighed knowingly; this was perhaps the extra harvest brought by the recent intense review.

He then put away the panel, picked up another sheet with red-printed standard answers, and began to correct each question.

Out of 100 points, he scored 97.

The three points deducted came from errors in the last two essay questions and material analysis questions.

This was deducted by Fang Cheng himself based on the strictest standards, out of his own discretion.

After all, aiming for a perfect score on professional subject exams is essentially a fantasy, mixed with many subjective factors from the examiners.

Especially in the field of law, there are many controversial cases lacking clear legal support in reality.

Let alone on a test paper with theoretical questions.

As for the foreign language proficiency test,

Fang Cheng didn't waste a bit of time on it.

With his "All-Knowing Language" talent, his achievements in linguistics are at least comparable to a master.

Dealing with such an exam was simply a dimensional reduction attack.

The real test comes in the comprehensive aptitude interview session.

After all, no matter how high the written exam score, it's merely a ticket to the arena.

Thinking of this, Fang Cheng's gaze slightly flickered, looking past the towering stack of books, and out the window.

Outside was Old Factory Street, where he had lived for over a decade.

Familiar gray tones.

Low-rise buildings jumbled together, old wires woven like cobwebs between the constructions.

In stark contrast to the distant skyscraper, it seemed like two different worlds.

Here, there were no songs of birds or flowers' fragrances, only the coarse and real breath of life left from the industrial era.

Last week, the results of the preliminary graduate exams, national lines, and the school's self-set lines had all been announced.

He made it to the interview list for East Capital University's Law School without any suspense.

A week later would be the moment of decision.

Or to be accurate, in his mother's heart, it was an important exam concerning her son's future.

Fang Cheng was well aware.

When his mother saw him picking up his books again and studying day and night,

her eyes, often filled with worry, would always show a glimmer of relief.

And this light was a consolation he, as a son, must give to his mother.

It seemed his mother vaguely perceived something.

She never inquired, but Fang Cheng knew.

His day-and-night physical training, and occasionally exhibited extraordinary physique, couldn't escape her meticulous eyes.

No one knows a son better than his mother.

The more silent she became, the more intense her worry was.

It seemed she feared he would suddenly disappear one day, repeating his father's mistakes, stepping back into that mysterious world filled with blood and fire.

A ripple of complexity and helplessness arose in Fang Cheng's heart.

He indeed couldn't truly fulfill his mother's wish of becoming an ordinary person living peacefully.

Because he had long set foot on an Asura path that was destined to have no way back.

Even if at this moment, he was willing to give up everything, settle into the present, disguise himself as a harmless good citizen,

those enemies lurking in the shadows, whether the Noah Organization or other unknown peepers, would never let him go.