Real Skill, Fake Tricks
After merging the two skills of "Skipping Stones" and "Throwing Darts," Chen Jue finally achieved a small goal he had recently set for himself.
Holding back the urge to spend skill points was, for him, even harder than not uttering a string of censored words.
He tried using stones as darts a few times, and only when his hunger became unbearable did he leave the park to find a breakfast shop and sit down for a meal.
He realized that the morning workout not only made him feel invigorated, but it also significantly increased his appetite.
Sweet soy milk, meat buns, and freshly fried dough sticks left him only half full, so he bought a pancake next door and munched on it as he walked.
"Thirty-five for breakfast—Hangzhou's prices are even more outrageous than my hidden weapon skills!" Chen Jue couldn't help but complain.
No wonder, since the city had just finished its sports festival, its image was on the rise, and prices were soaring right along with it.
For ordinary people earning minimum wage, living in Hangzhou would likely send their Engel coefficient soaring above eighty percent, barely earning enough just to fill their stomachs.
Fortunately, he had recently changed jobs, with his salary nearly doubled, and Chen Jue was now spending money with a freer hand.
As long as the food tasted good and was nutritious, he was willing to pay hundreds per meal without regret!
Of course, during breakfast, Chen Jue also took the opportunity to study the newly activated "Hidden Weapon Throwing" skill.
After reaching level five, the proficiency bar shot up to twenty thousand points.
At the current rate of improvement, it would probably take a year or two of practice to level up again.
But seeing the skill's "Master" rating on the panel, Chen Jue immediately thought of the "10,000 Hour Rule" he'd learned at work.
This rule, proposed by author Gladwell in his book "Outliers," states that to become a world-class master in any field, an ordinary person must devote ten thousand hours of practice.
If you work eight hours a day, five days a week, it takes at least five years to become a master in a field!
After graduating from college at twenty-one, Chen Jue had worked in risk control data roles, switching companies several times. Over eight years, counting overtime, he could already be considered a master in risk control data.
Yet this attribute panel had let him go from zero to hidden weapon master in just ten days.
Its efficiency and uncanny correction function were astonishing!
"If I started a hobby class or took on a few apprentices now, I bet plenty of people would sign up," Chen Jue thought with a cheerful smile.
With his skill improved, he hadn't forgotten about making money.
During a moment of leisure after breakfast, he remembered his online video account.
He checked the backend; the "Skill: Skipping Stones" video he uploaded yesterday already had thousands of views.
As for the comment and bullet screen sections, they finally had real people instead of bots.
But when he saw the comments, Chen Jue's face darkened.
"Is this it? And you call it a skill?" (Disdain)
"Didn't break the world record, yet you dare show off?" (Tsk tsk)
"Don't you know the average Bilibili user is a master?" (Dog head emoji)
"Hey, someone's showing off in front of you, @Shen the Skipping Stone Master"
"This skipping stone must be from your shop, @Shen the Skipping Stone Master"
"Wearing a mask and acting mysterious—isn't this guy from our group, @Shen the Skipping Stone Master"
Everyone in the comments was tagging the world record holder, and even he personally replied below: "Not bad, keep working hard! (Heart gesture)"—the tone unmistakably that of a veteran coaching a rookie.
Nevertheless, the world record holder sent Chen Jue a private message, inviting him to join the skipping stone hobby group.
Chen Jue didn't join, instead checking the group announcement.
The banner claimed it was a "Competitive Skipping Stone Practitioners Gathering," but below were several links to Taobao products for clay skipping stones.
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No wonder they made a business out of skipping stones—gather high-level enthusiasts and conveniently sell their own skipping stones, a perfect example of targeted marketing!
"You guys really have a head for business!"
Chen Jue gave them a thumbs-up in his mind.
…
After getting roasted on the video site, Chen Jue wanted to record another skipping stone video to retaliate against those self-important, snobbish keyboard warriors.
But after a few tries, using his newly synthesized level five "Hidden Weapon Throwing" technique with the petal-shaped clay skipping stones he'd bought, he still couldn't surpass the world record.
His highest streak was 250 skips, and the distance was about ninety meters—already master-level skipping.
Anything more could only mean breaking the world record.
"Skills are just technical application."
"The real key is strength!"
"I'll focus on hand strength training next. I refuse to believe that with improved strength, I can't skip a stone across the lake!" Chen Jue snorted, looking at the nearly two-hundred-meter-wide park lake, clearly dissatisfied.
But meals must be eaten one bite at a time, and skill must be built bit by bit.
No need to spar with those keyboard warriors.
…
Before noon, Chen Jue slipped out of the park.
Back at the talent apartment, he collected several packages—the darts and grip trainers he'd ordered online had arrived.
He bought a lot of darts this time for future videos, with plenty of variety.
With the "Hidden Weapon Throwing" technique, each new style felt intuitive to him; after a few tries, he could easily nail the foam in the delivery box and had mastered the best throwing method.
He tried throwing knives, short swords, iron chopsticks, steel needles, and meteor darts—though proficiency barely increased, Chen Jue was thoroughly enjoying himself.
After all, he’d spent several hundred on stainless steel darts; their feel and quality were excellent.
As a somewhat nerdy homebody, no one could resist such toys.
After testing the new darts, Chen Jue picked up the grip trainer recommended by Yu Jie and adjusted it according to the instructions.
After squeezing it a few times, he found that with his current strength attribute of 0.83, he could only squeeze it to a maximum force of fifty kilograms with one hand.
Any higher, and he couldn’t close it.
"The upper limit is a hundred kilograms—I’m still far off!" Chen Jue was dissatisfied.
After lunch downstairs, he began to squeeze the grip trainer furiously.
Luckily, it had an electronic counter on top; each squeeze added one, and after a few times it felt just as addictive as tracking steps on WeChat.
But as he kept squeezing, Chen Jue felt a burning fatigue in his fingers, wrists, and forearms.
Compared to "Hidden Weapon Throwing," the grip trainer clearly worked the arm muscles more efficiently.
He spent about half an hour, alternating hands.
After roughly two hundred squeezes, both arms were stiff as steel, and finally the panel popped up with a prompt:
——————
[Ding~]
[You’ve completed a round of mechanical anaerobic exercise. Your finger, wrist, and forearm muscles have been effectively trained; grip strength improved.]
[Strength attribute +0.01]
——————
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"I can't take it! I can't take it!"
"This is a hundred times more exhausting than playing League of Legends!"
Though he saw his strength attribute increase, this session left a lasting impression on Chen Jue.
The small grip trainer left him utterly exhausted, and after putting it down, he didn’t even want to lift a finger.
The worst part was that the aching, swollen feeling lasted from afternoon into evening, showing just how intense the workout was.
…
He began by icing his hands.
From researching lately, Chen Jue had learned that after intense exercise, hot compresses can make blood vessels brittle, damage capillaries, and even worsen muscle fatigue, causing all sorts of inflammation!
For example, many NBA players, after a fierce match, enter special liquid nitrogen chambers for low-temperature therapy.
After cooling down, they take a hot shower.
This method effectively prevents injury and prolongs their competitive state.
Chen Jue didn’t have the resources of NBA stars—he couldn’t afford multi-million liquid nitrogen therapy equipment—so he made do by mixing ice cubes from the fridge with tap water for cold compresses.
After icing, he soaked his hands in hot water in the bathroom.
Unexpectedly, this first attempt earned him a surprise from the panel!
——————
[Ding~]
[You've completed a proper round of low-temperature therapy. With the cold compress, your hand muscles cooled effectively; the hot soak reduced lactic acid build-up. Alternating hot and cold stimulation led to slight improvement in your hand muscles.]
[Constitution attribute +0.01]
——————
"As expected, top athletes and sports stars never do useless work."
"Learning recovery techniques from them outside of training really works!" Chen Jue looked at the panel's prompt and couldn't help but sigh.
Top athletes are worth billions, especially foreign stars, whose assets can reach several dozen or even over a hundred billion.
Only with such financial backing can they afford elite recovery teams.
Chen Jue was still at the starting line, and hadn’t yet found a profitable path, so he could only experiment with homemade methods.
His standards weren’t high—he just didn’t want to injure himself while training!
…
After finishing the hot-cold therapy, he sprayed his hands with Yunnan Baiyao and applied Tiger Balm pain relief patches.
He’d used a lot of these two medicines lately, and had already stockpiled two boxes online.
Even after this home-style recovery, his hands remained weak.
He couldn’t do the eye exercises, nor did he want to use his phone.
He thought about going to bed early, but to his surprise, Wu Fang, who hadn’t replied all day, finally sent a message!
"You want to practice real kung fu? (Surprised)"
"Isn’t your dart technique already real kung fu? (Sneaky smile)"
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