Human Core

Guo Shao and Yang Fan were both stunned as they looked at the @ messages in the group chat. They hadn’t expected that, aside from his unbelievable flying nail technique, Chen Jue was also a video creator.

“Jue, is this your ID?”

“You’ve got almost thirty thousand followers!”

Guo Shao clicked the link and browsed the homepage, especially those three jaw-dropping skill videos, which made his insides itch with excitement. He promptly followed Chen Jue’s account on both Bilibili and TikTok.

Yang Fan did the same, exclaiming “Whoa! Amazing!” after watching the homepage's videos, then rapidly hit the follow button.

“I always wear a mask in my videos. Just keep it secret for me, okay? I’m afraid of social death,” Chen Jue smiled, gently persuading the two college students.

The identity of the “Skill Master” would eventually be revealed, but Chen Jue wasn’t worried about a few outsiders knowing. Still, until he could rely on his side hustle to make a living, the fewer people who knew, the better—he didn’t want to risk a career-ending embarrassment.

...

He spent some time by the riverside with the two students, gaining over 900 proficiency points. The frequent bursts of flying nail throws also increased his strength attribute by 0.01.

Watching Chen Jue’s terrifying accuracy, Guo Shao and Yang Fan were dumbfounded. Nearly every rat was taken out with a single nail; few survived to see a second.

“Jue, you’re incredible!”

“After watching you use nails, my slingshot feels instantly lame!” Guo Shao said enviously.

He and Yang Fan were childhood friends from well-off families, not quite top-tier rich kids, but comfortably living as “demolition heirs” in Hangzhou. They owned several properties in major cities and their parents had bought them luxury cars. The first two years of college were spent partying and chasing girls at bars and clubs, but after the novelty wore off, it all felt pointless.

With outdoor activities trending, Guo Shao dragged his friend into the city hunter wild game outings. Whenever free, they’d scout new wild spots and share their results and techniques in the group.

But after meeting Chen Jue tonight, Guo Shao felt his horizons had been blown wide open. So this is another way to play wild game hunting? It was just too cool!

“Jue, I want to learn your flying nail technique, I’ll pay for lessons! Is that okay?” Guo Shao said, eager.

Yang Fan chimed in, “Coach, I want to learn this too!”

“Learn from me?”

“Are you sure?”

“My dart-throwing skills are the result of years of practice since childhood; it takes at least a decade to reach this level,” Chen Jue said, eyes open, spinning a tall tale.

His throwing technique was really the product of his panel forcibly correcting his motions and rapid muscle memory after upgrades. He had put in effort, but without the panel, he wouldn’t know how to teach others.

Still, the exaggerated claim of ten years wasn’t entirely false. To become a master in the art of throwing darts, at least ten thousand hours of hard work were required—about ten years.

The two twenty-year-old students were struck dumb by the number, and their enthusiasm faded. Spending a decade to master a skill that was mostly flashy and impractical? Only someone out of their mind would waste time on it. Even if they wanted to learn, their parents would never approve. Far better to enjoy slingshot hunting and outdoor activities in their spare time, which wouldn’t interfere with their studies.

...

After lingering by the riverside for over an hour, most of the rats in the drainage pipe were killed by nails and pellets. The survivors, seeing their dead kin, would likely avoid gathering there again.

Seeing it was almost curfew, Guo Shao and Yang Fan got into their Range Rover and headed back to campus. Before leaving, these thrill-seeking students invited Chen Jue to keep an eye on the group messages and not mute the Hangzhou Wild Game League chat.

The group was planning a large offline event to clean up several river areas suspected of harboring “cleaners”—a peculiar fish species resembling mutated aliens, enough to trigger anyone’s trypophobia (don’t look it up).

...

This fish species is an invasive alien species in China, notorious for devouring fish fry and eggs, and with their strong vitality and reproductive abilities, they devastate local river ecosystems wherever they go. Once found, it’s best to eradicate them quickly.

As for how these invaders ended up in Hangzhou’s waters, it generally traces back to misguided “merit-seeking” release rituals.

Hunting such invasive species is far more interesting than going after rats, so Chen Jue agreed to the invitation without hesitation.

...

Driving back to his apartment, Chen Jue felt quite pleased with the unexpected gain of two college fans that night.

After washing up and going to bed, he woke the next day to find his left hand fully healed.

He threw a few playing cards in the room and found his left hand as agile and powerful as his right, finally putting his mind at ease.

“Thankfully, forcing attribute points last time left no lasting side effects!”

“I can resume normal training now,” Chen Jue thought happily.

To him, having a healthy body was most important. The days with an injured left hand had seriously disrupted his training schedule.

He’d heard from Lin Ling about acquired left-handedness and hoped to train his left hand to perform complex movements as skillfully as his right, so he had high expectations for it.

With the sun just rising, he went up to the rooftop for his usual thirty minutes of red-light therapy and eye exercises. No more single-handed routines; after the full session, his constitution attribute increased by another 0.01.

A warm flow surged near his eyes, improving his vision by several degrees. Realizing his 300-degree glasses were now too strong, he switched to a pre-prepared pair at 200 degrees.

If his eyesight continued improving by about 100 degrees per week, he’d be able to ditch the glasses he’d worn for over a decade in another half month.

...

Heading out for morning exercise in the park, he didn’t see Wu Fang or the old man—likely because it was Sunday. No one could be expected to visit the park every day; people needed rest and relaxation.

Unlike Chen Jue, who wound himself up like a clockwork toy, pouring all his time into training and attribute grinding.

Without a panel, few could match his discipline. Human skill progress is slow and yields little reward, so motivation naturally falters.

Still, Zhao Jianguo’s tai chi class was running as usual. According to Teacher Zhao, as long as it wasn’t windy, raining, or a national holiday, he’d be there to lead practice.

After two hours of tai chi and the thirteen stances, Chen Jue gained some proficiency and 0.02 free attribute points. He saved them for emergencies—if another silver brick challenge for money came up, these points could help. Or, if he suffered an injury, he could use them to recover.

...

Missing Teacher Wu in the morning put a damper on Chen Jue’s motivation. After finishing tai chi with Zhao Jianguo, he left the park for breakfast and checked his Skill Master account’s video earnings.

Thanks to the hot search boost yesterday, all three uploaded videos had surged in views. The top one, “Skill: King Bomb,” had over 500,000 views, and the other two surpassed 100,000. Including the previous collaboration with Rainbow Studio, total earnings had exceeded 2,000 yuan.

“This money comes so easily!”

“Considering the filming tools only cost a few hundred and there’ll be ongoing income, this is remarkable,” Chen Jue marveled.

He hadn’t experienced the short video boom firsthand, but making two thousand from just three hastily produced skill videos was beyond what his former white-collar self could have imagined.

Seeing such tangible, withdrawable earnings, Chen Jue finally understood why so many people were desperate to become internet celebrities. Once you build up followers and those videos hit millions, you could just lie at home and count money.

...

The morning flew by. After lunch and a brief nap, Chen Jue spent the afternoon practicing horse stance and grip strength in his room, and browsing fitness tutorials and health tips related to human movement.

He’d taken half a step toward successful weight loss; his body fat and weight had dropped significantly. But he was still far from the eight-pack abs and “dog waist” physique he aspired to—something like Jie’s build.

...

“Once the fat on my arms, thighs, and waist drops,”

“I’ll need to start training the core Coach Li talked about!” Chen Jue recalled the fitness theory from a previous trial class.

The human core, from an anatomical perspective, is the central axis bones and all proximal soft tissues connected to it. This includes the muscle groups and fascia in the shoulders, neck, chest, abdomen, and pelvis.

The core’s function is to provide static support, stabilize the torso to prevent excessive spinal movement, and assist in transmitting force through the body’s kinetic chain.

To put it simply, imagine the body’s movements as a bicycle’s power system: if the limbs are the outer chain, then the core is the central, unmoving crankset—the chain can’t run without the crankset turning.

Chen Jue’s years of desk work, lack of exercise, and poor posture had led to lumbar disc herniation, anterior pelvic tilt, and even some spinal scoliosis. This combination had ruined his image and bearing.

Standing, he’d be belly-out, hunched back, craned neck—looking thoroughly unappealing.

Fortunately, with panel upgrades and efficient exercise, that awkward aura had greatly improved.

But he was still far from perfect.

To further improve his physical condition, besides daily limb-focused training, he needed to add core exercises.

Post standing and horse stance helped a bit, but they were static and their effect on core strength was minimal.

“Looks like climbing is the key!” Chen Jue reviewed fitness tutorials online and glanced at his panel—currently, the most suitable skill was the often neglected “Climbing.”

But how to train climbing specifically? He’d have to ask Jie.

Relying just on stair climbing at work wasn’t enough to significantly boost core strength.

“If nothing else, maybe I’ll join a climbing club or gym,” Chen Jue mused.

...

Sunday night, Chen Jue didn’t continue training; he relaxed online, played some games, and watched a popular film.

Always keeping himself wound tight felt just like the office rat race, something he wanted to avoid.

With plenty of time, he could use the panel to train at his own pace.

The next morning, Hangzhou’s weather had changed. A cold front had moved in, bringing light rain and damp chill even inside the apartment.

Unable to bask in sunrise, Chen Jue turned on his computer and used artificial red light for eye training.

Half an hour later, his constitution attribute rose by another 0.01. With time to spare before work, he practiced flying cards in his room.

With his left hand fully healed, Chen Jue trained both hands together, repeatedly aiming at a foam board hung in the room.

After two hours, the foam board was sliced in half by the cards and he finally stopped.

“Nice! ‘Projectile Weapon Throwing’ gained another 2,300 proficiency points!” Seeing his progress bar over halfway, Chen Jue was in high spirits.

He went downstairs for breakfast and drove to Hengtong Group.

Climbing the stairs to his office, he arrived ten minutes past nine.

This was Chen Jue’s second week on the job; the first week’s adaptation period was over, and from today, the office system would automatically assign clients.

But for Chen Jue, a risk control master, reviewing clients was hardly a challenge—as long as he rushed through them by the end of the day, most of his time could be spent slack off.

Just as he was about to start his usual grip training, his neighboring colleague, the chubby Shen Shikun, stumbled out of the restroom.

His face was pale, legs shaky—clearly numb from squatting too long.

Chen Jue looked at him, about to greet him.

Unexpectedly, Shen Shikun staggered forward, clutching his chest and supporting himself on the glass wall, breathing heavily.

“Shikun, are you okay?” Chen Jue noticed something was wrong and quickly asked with concern.

Before Shen could reply, he clutched his chest and collapsed heavily beside Chen Jue’s desk.

His fall sent all the coworkers chatting about weekend fun and online news into a panic.

“Quick!”

“Call for help!”