The following days were a blur of disbelief, adrenaline hangovers, and whispered conversations between Ye Chen and Mei. They tried to piece together the fragments of their harrowing experience in the Hidden World. The monstrous lizard, the strange plant, the flickering green portal – it all felt like a fever dream, yet the green mote on their apartment floor served as a constant reminder of its reality.
News of their disappearance had spread through their cramped apartment building like wildfire. Their worried neighbors bombarded them with questions upon their return, forcing them to concoct a story about being lost in a nearby park overnight. The lie felt heavy on Ye Chen's tongue, but revealing the truth wasn't an option. Not yet.
The biggest struggle was adapting to their normal routine after experiencing the raw power and terrifying creatures of the Hidden World. The monotony of the noodle factory felt unbearable, the endless churning of dough a stark contrast to the adrenaline rush of facing a giant lizard.
One evening, after another grueling day at the factory, Ye Chen slumped onto his rickety bed, staring at the green mote on his desk. He desperately wanted to understand its connection to the strange plant and the power it had given him. He had tried focusing on the mote, hoping to activate the plant's effect again, but nothing happened. Frustration gnawed at him.
"Maybe it was a one-time thing," Mei said softly, sensing his dejection.
He shook his head. "There has to be more to it. The plant, the glow, the way I could see around the corner… it all felt connected."
His sister, despite her young age, seemed to possess an uncanny maturity. Maybe it was the shared experience in the Hidden World, or maybe it was just her unwavering faith in him. Whatever it was, her words were a source of comfort.
"There's got to be a way to figure it out," she said, her eyes gleaming with determination. "We just need to be creative."
Creative. That was it. The forums weren't filled with only boasts and flashy pictures. Deep within the threads, hidden amongst the bravado, were nuggets of valuable information. Techniques for identifying Soul Hunters, for navigating the terrain of the Hidden World, and even some on the strange, often symbiotic, relationships between Soul Hunters and plants found within the realm.
Ye Chen spent the next few days devouring every scrap of information he could find. He learned about the different types of Soul Hunters – the brutes who relied on raw strength, the strategists who used traps and cunning, and the mystics who wielded strange, elemental powers.
More importantly, he discovered a sub-section dedicated to "Flora of the Hidden World." There were entries for plants with various properties – some provided healing properties, some could create illusions, and a few, incredibly rare, fostered a symbiotic connection with users, granting them temporary boosts in strength or awareness.
One entry in particular caught his eye. It spoke of a luminous plant found deep within the forests, known for its bioluminescent blue orbs. According to the forum post, when touched, the plant would briefly "awaken" a user's latent potential, granting them heightened senses and a limited form of precognition.
Excitement thrummed through Ye Chen. This was it! The plant he encountered perfectly matched the description. But the post also mentioned something else – the effect was temporary and could only be triggered once.
Disappointment washed over him. So much for a permanent power boost. Yet, even a temporary awakening could be incredibly useful. Maybe, just maybe, it could help him unlock a way to permanently tap into this ability.
He shared his discovery with Mei, a spark of hope igniting in their eyes. They needed a plan, a way to train himself in this newfound potential. But training in a cramped apartment was a logistical nightmare.
"We need someplace bigger, someplace with space to move," Ye Chen muttered, scratching his head in frustration.
A sly grin spread across Mei's face. "Remember Uncle Lin from the bakery downstairs?"
Ye Chen's eyes widened. Uncle Lin, a gruff but kind man, was a former martial arts instructor notorious for his unorthodox training methods. He wouldn't approve of Soul Hunters or the Hidden World, but maybe, just maybe, he could be convinced to help with basic training.
With a glimmer of hope, Ye Chen and Mei embarked on a mission of epic (yet slightly awkward) proportions – convincing Uncle Lin to train the young fry cook from the factory in "self-defense techniques."
After much stammering and nervous laughter, their story unfolded. Not the entirety of it, of course. They omitted the terrifying details of the Hidden World, the monstrous lizard, and the strange portal. But they emphasized the fear of walking through a dark park at night (a convenient lie fabricated for their concerned neighbors) and the need for basic self-defense skills.
Uncle Lin, a man with a thick, salt-and-pepper mustache and a perpetually furrowed brow, listened patiently, his skepticism evident in every wrinkle on his face. When they finished, a long silence stretched between them, broken only by the rhythmic whirring of the bakery's dough mixer.
Finally, Uncle Lin sighed, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Street fights are nothing to romanticize, young ones. Takes more than a few fancy kicks to defend yourself."
Ye Chen straightened his back, determination etched on his face. "We understand, sir. But any kind of training would be helpful. We can't always rely on others."
He glanced at Mei, who offered a small smile, her eyes pleading. The sincerity in their faces seemed to touch Uncle Lin. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the dough mixer momentarily forgotten.
"Alright," he conceded, surprising both of them. "But don't expect fancy moves. My methods are… practical."
A wave of relief washed over Ye Chen and Mei. Practical was exactly what they needed. They didn't need to be kung fu masters, just prepared for the unexpected – whether that meant a mugging in a dark alley or, more realistically, another encounter with a creature from the Hidden World.
Thus began their unorthodox training regimen. Before dawn, before the bakery doors even creaked open, Ye Chen found himself in a whirlwind of squats, lunges, and push-ups under Uncle Lin's watchful eye. The gruff ex-instructor may have scoffed at the concept of Soul Hunters, but he pushed Ye Chen to his limits, building his strength, stamina, and agility.
The cramped apartment became their makeshift dojo in the evenings. Uncle Lin, surprisingly flexible for his age, demonstrated basic self-defense techniques – blocks, dodges, and well-placed strikes. He emphasized using leverage and quick thinking over brute force, a strategy that resonated deeply with Ye Chen.
But the real challenge lay in honing his newfound ability from the Hidden World. Training this was much trickier. There wasn't a punching bag with a "precognition" setting.
Instead, Ye Chen resorted to creative exercises. He'd blindfold himself and have Mei move around the room, trying to anticipate her movements based on sound and subtle shifts in air pressure. He practiced catching flies in mid-air, not for the sadistic pleasure, but to hone his reflexes and heighten his awareness of his surroundings.
The progress was slow, frustrating at times. But with each passing day, Ye Chen felt a difference. He moved faster, reacted quicker, and occasionally, there were flashes – fleeting glimpses of Mei's movements before she even made them, or the creak of a floorboard a split second before someone stepped on it.
It wasn't perfect, and the flashes were inconsistent, but it was progress. And with each successful instance, Ye Chen's determination to unlock this potential grew stronger.
The training wasn't just about physical prowess – it was about discipline, focus, and pushing his limits. It was a way to channel the fear and uncertainty of the Hidden World into something useful, something that could help him survive, and maybe even thrive, in that extraordinary and dangerous world.