Carl Mountain.
This mountain range wasn't well-known, but it stretched across two provinces. The branch near the town wasn't steep, with mostly gentle slopes. At the moment, William King was trekking through this range, holding a military-grade machete in his hand.
He swung the blade to cut through the thorns blocking his path, his brow furrowed in concentration. Glancing down at his rugged military phone, he asked, "Chief Frank, are you sure the target really entered the mountain?"
On the other end, Frank, a middle-aged man, responded with a mix of impatience and caution, "We've already confirmed it. After Jackson shook off our surveillance, he took a cab to entry point number 3 at Carl Mountain. According to the taxi company, the driver saw him enter the mountain trail, and he was carrying a backpack with plenty of food and water."
"He's stocked up on food and water, and yet you still haven't acted?" William was a little annoyed. Carl Mountain wasn't large, but it was still big enough for Jackson to hide, especially without clear leads. Finding him wouldn't be easy. If the town's police had kept him contained for a while longer until William arrived, the situation might have been simpler.
Frank, however, remained calm and explained, "For the town's safety, we can't make any rash moves. Jackson is a second-tier martial artist and is attempting to break through to the third tier. If we act and fail, he could cause irreversible damage to the town."
William King had no patience for more excuses. Taking a deep breath, he suppressed his anger, "I've already scoured the area near the entry point but found no trace. Jackson is a second-tier fighter—it's easy for him to cover his tracks, especially in a place with so much foot traffic. I'll keep searching deeper, but you need to station some people at the other entry points. Three days—if I don't find him in three days, I'll have to abandon the mission."
William wasn't interested in wasting time here. His martial arts exam finals were coming up, and while they wouldn't be difficult for him, his real goal was to come first and secure more resources.
Frank agreed readily, "Alright, we'll notify you if we get any leads. If you can't find him, then we'll just have to report the situation to the state authorities and let them handle it."
Despite his casual tone, Frank felt a tinge of disappointment. Catching a second-tier martial artist involved in crimes would bring significant credit. Frank was well aware of Jackson's danger, but for the sake of caution, he had held back from acting earlier.
After a few more brief exchanges, William ended the call and continued hiking deeper into the mountain. He had set himself a limit of three days, but it might not even take that long for Jackson to slip out of town. Even if William did catch him, there was no guarantee the reward would still be on the table.
...
Back in town, at Jinghu Garden Complex.
Unlike the past few days, today Eric wasn't holed up indoors. Earlier, he had felt discomfort from the surge in his vitality, realizing that his body wasn't yet strong enough to handle the increased blood vitality. He decided he needed to strengthen his physical conditioning, so after dinner, he headed to the backyard to train.
The old residential complex didn't have a gym, and the small parks had long been claimed by the town's elderly. Eric had no desire to become the butt of their jokes. Fortunately, his family had a small backyard, which was enough for basic workouts.
Without any equipment, Eric could only perform simple exercises. Push-ups, sit-ups, and squats were the main workouts he could do.
After a bit of training, he glanced around at the still-spacious backyard and decided to ask his father to set up a wooden bar tomorrow so he could do pull-ups.
Thanks to his increased vitality, the results were immediate. In his previous life, doing thirty push-ups might have left Eric exhausted, but now, after fifty in a row, he didn't feel as tired. He figured he could easily do a hundred each time. With regular morning and evening training, his body would soon adapt to his current vitality level.
As he continued his workout, Eric glanced up at the upstairs apartment, noticing the lights were still on. He thought to himself that the new tenant upstairs was quite quiet—it almost felt like no one lived there.
He took a quick look and then went back to his training.
...
Upstairs.
Jackson stood by the window, watching Eric as he trained in the backyard. Hidden behind the curtains, Jackson appeared cautious. He watched the boy diligently exercising below, a faint, complex smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Once upon a time, he had been just like Eric, full of dreams, hoping to make it into knight school through hard work and become a knight. However, fate hadn't been kind to him. Reality was harsh—not only was the threshold for knight school impossibly high, but even regular academic universities had been out of his reach.
After graduating, he had no choice but to take a regular job at a state-owned factory. After years of hard work, he finally saved enough money to enroll in a martial arts training course. Fortunately, in the training course, he did learn some practical martial arts skills.
Over the years, after spending a lot of time and money, he finally entered the first tier of martial arts at the age of 30. At that time, he was full of hope, thinking that he could finally live a life above ordinary people.
But reality struck him down again.
Since he had come up through unconventional means, he was always seen as inferior compared to those who graduated from prestigious knight schools. At 30, he had barely managed to break into the first tier, while those knight school graduates were already far beyond him by that age.
Even so, as a martial artist, his life was better than most. But his growing ambition left him dissatisfied with his current situation. He wanted to continue advancing in strength, but the resources needed for further breakthroughs far exceeded what he could afford.
Training required vast amounts of money. Equipment, medicine, pills—everything was prohibitively expensive. No matter how hard he worked, the money he earned was never enough.
When he finally reached the second tier, he found himself trapped in a financial bind again. To break through to the third tier, he needed millions in resources. Those rare resources weren't even available on the regular market.
In his desperation for a breakthrough, he considered joining official organizations or large corporations. With his second-tier strength, finding a job wouldn't have been difficult. But he refused to go through the various screenings and investigations, believing they would only slow his progress.
In the end, he turned to crime.
His first heist had easily netted him over a million in resources. It gave him a taste of effortless gain, and he soon spiraled into a life of crime. A series of successful robberies allowed him to amass wealth quickly, but it also landed him on the most-wanted list.
Watching the boy training below, Jackson let out a cold chuckle. "Another kid chasing a hopeless dream," he muttered.
Was getting into knight school really that easy? If Eric failed, and if he couldn't let go of his dream, only misery would await him. The boy below reminded Jackson too much of his younger self. Living in an old apartment complex like this, his family probably wasn't well-off either. With such conditions, how could he expect to make it as a knight?
"This world is so unfair!" Jackson cursed under his breath, his heart full of resentment and anger.
Why were some people born into wealth, where millions were nothing more than pocket change? Why was he still inferior even after becoming a martial artist? Take the town's police chief, Frank, for example. Jackson could easily defeat him in ten minutes, yet Frank was the town's top law enforcement officer. Meanwhile, Jackson was reduced to running and hiding.
"This world will never be fair to me."
Shaking his head, Jackson turned and walked back into his apartment. As for the boy's future, he didn't care. He only hoped that Eric wouldn't end up as hopeless as he had.
...
Eric, however, had no reason to feel hopeless. He firmly believed that he would get into knight school.
He hadn't noticed any movement upstairs. Even though his mental strength was slightly higher than that of an ordinary person, Jackson was still a second-tier martial artist, and Eric had no way of sensing his presence.
After training in the backyard for over an hour, Eric worried that overexertion might backfire, so he stopped his workout. Returning inside, he washed up and headed to his room to continue reviewing his studies.
Upstairs, the apartment remained as quiet as ever, as if no one lived there at all.
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