Chapter Two: Tempering

After obtaining the formula for physical growth, with clear evidence in hand, Xi Gu ran calculations on his own development that very day. His current bench press was 164 kilograms; assuming a daily growth rate of one percent, in theory, his strength would surpass 442 kilograms after one hundred days.

That was a figure approaching world record levels, but not yet shocking enough to be considered supernatural.

However, after two hundred days, Xi Gu’s strength would reach around 1200 kilograms, not far off from the weight of a Porsche 911. Before long, he would be the kind of superhuman who could lift a sports car with his bare hands.

By three hundred days, his strength would exceed 3243 kilograms, allowing him to directly challenge a light truck head-on.

Four hundred days in, his strength would near 9000 kilograms—easily enough to hoist a small passenger bus onto his shoulders and stroll away.

And if he extended the time frame to one thousand days—looking two years and a bit into the future—

3,437,301 kilograms.

3,437 tons.

That was the strength Xi Gu would one day possess.

Imagine stacking together eighty main battle tanks, or nineteen Boeing 747s, and then compressing all that power into a body just 178 centimeters tall.

Just picturing that scene was nearly suffocating.

More importantly, this was growth in all aspects of physical ability—not just strength, but speed, vision, smell, and every other metric advancing in tandem.

One could imagine that, by then, a single stomp from him would crack the pavement for dozens of meters, a casual wave of his hand would whip up a miniature storm, a sprint would trigger a sonic boom—and if he ran too fast, he might even break free from Earth’s gravity and shoot into space…

No, please—not an astronaut’s fate!

Xi Gu groaned in his heart.

...

From that day forward, Xi Gu completely overhauled his approach to life.

He no longer considered a career in athletics. Given his current rate of improvement, it wouldn’t be long before he could shatter every human sports record in history, but to avoid becoming a freak in the eyes of the world and upending the existing social order, caution was paramount.

He stopped displaying any special abilities, avoided competitive sports in gym class for fear of bursting a ball with a single touch, and went about his studies diligently, maintaining ordinary friendships—neither too close nor too distant—while making sure not to joke around too much, lest an overly familiar classmate try to prank him and provoke an instinctive, superhuman reaction.

But most crucially, he focused on control.

Training his control.

With his physical abilities increasing by one percent daily—strength and speed rising in lockstep—mastery over his own power became essential.

At first, the growth in strength was like adding a one-kilogram weight to a hammer each day; but in a few years, it would be like adding a new peak to the Himalayas daily.

Thus, control was the absolute core of his training.

From the moment he realized this, Xi Gu dedicated himself to mastering every ounce of his strength—feeling the flow of power from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his hair, modulating its intensity, until he could control it down to the kilogram, even the hundred-gram level.

But the next day, when Xi Gu awoke again, another one percent stronger, he needed a new round of training to adapt.

Even so, as this was a matter of life and death, he applied himself tirelessly to improving his control, determined to avoid one day accidentally crushing a school building underfoot.

As time passed, after more than a month of this routine, Xi Gu woke one morning to an unexpected and delightful discovery—

His control was growing in step with his physical abilities.

Despite exhausting himself the night before to keep his strength at the kilogram level, when he awoke, not only had his power grown, but his control had inexplicably improved as well.

At first, he could scarcely believe it, but after another ten days, though his strength had doubled again, he could now easily distinguish whether he applied a hundred grams or two hundred grams of force with a finger.

This revelation was a breakthrough—

“So, besides the natural growth of my physical traits, I can train and incorporate other aspects as well?

“Does that mean…my ‘ability’ is essentially conceptual in nature?”

Understanding this, Xi Gu began sneaking out every night to train his control over speed.

This was an urgent matter, as he often involuntarily displayed superhuman agility in daily life. Though he could barely restrain his running speed, his natural reflexes were hard to mask.

Moreover, he sensed that the tennis coach at school was already secretly observing him.

But what could he do? He could only sigh.

“No way, Teacher—if I played tennis, I wouldn’t become a Grand Slam champion like Federer, but a killer on the court!”

With such laments, Xi Gu trained in the shadows, step by careful step, mastering his speed and reflexes.

At first, he would accidentally run at speeds far beyond world records, enough to leave Bolt gaping in disbelief—

But soon, with persistent practice, within a few months, his control over speed and reflexes was also incorporated into his “talent tree,” growing at the same daily rate.

Step by step, cautiously hiding his true capabilities, Xi Gu navigated high school without incident. There were minor mishaps along the way, but overall, he kept a low profile.

Before long, the bench press equipment he’d bought became obsolete—after all, a thousand kilograms total was no more challenging than lifting a bar of soap.

So, he occasionally snuck out at night to the city’s bus depot to test his strength on the buses.

At first, he could only drag them; soon, he could lift them slightly; and by the next month, he could bear a multi-ton bus atop his head with ease.

With reality-bending strength and ever-growing control, Xi Gu grew cocky.

Those nights, cloaked in darkness, he would toss cars and buses around like toy models.

Until, one night, a passerby stumbled upon him. Just as the stranger’s eyes widened and mouth opened—before a scream escaped—Xi Gu, panic-stricken, dropped the ten-meter bus and dashed home at a speed that broke the sound barrier.

The next day, the news reported a bizarre story: “A Floating Bus at Midnight.” A pedestrian claimed to see a bus, more than ten meters long, hovering a meter off the ground and moving forward, only to drop to the street an instant later. The witness swore he saw a shadow, but it moved so fast, he thought he was imagining things…

The incident was explained as the work of car thieves—though no one could imagine why a gang would bother stealing a city bus, let alone risk so much for no profit. The authorities launched a major crackdown on vehicle theft, and for a time, the city’s law and order improved.

Unaware that his thoughtless actions had helped public safety, Xi Gu returned home that night in a cold sweat, reflecting for days and thoroughly examining his behavior.

He realized, deeply—

Despite telling himself he didn’t want attention, didn’t want to be dissected, as his strength grew, he couldn’t suppress the desire to perform, to bask in admiration.

To become a celebrity, a star, a hero of the people. To use his powers to catch the spotlight, make headlines, and become a national or even a global superhero.

Such childish fantasies suited his identity—a sixteen-year-old high school junior.

Not a sophomore, but a junior. Yes, he had advanced a grade since first gaining his abilities.

But after his first brush with exposure, and some serious soul-searching, Xi Gu began to think more realistically—“What would happen if my powers were revealed?”

First, he could never again attend school in peace. That didn’t trouble him much, but as a sixteen-year-old, leaving school meant there was nowhere else suitable for someone his age.

Second, exposure would shock the entire academic world—biologists, chemists, theoretical physicists, astrophysicists, and scholars of every kind would want to study him.

From saliva to hair to blood and urine, every part of his body would be priceless research material. To cooperate with examinations, he’d lose all freedom—no choice in movement, clothing, or even meals…

No matter how precious a lab mouse, it’s still a mouse; no one would volunteer for a cage unless they had nowhere else to go.

Third, from the perspective of public opinion, exposure would make Xi Gu the most influential figure in human history. But with that would come curiosity, scrutiny, suspicion, jealousy, and hatred.

His face would be everywhere, his expressions turned into memes. People would pick him apart and hurl abuse on every forum—

“Why him and not me?” “He doesn’t even look that special…” “If I were him, I’d…”

Just imagining such thoughtless comments made Xi Gu sick.

He knew he wasn’t ready, psychologically, to bear the gaze of a world that would see him as a freak.

And finally—the most important point—

His growth was simply too fast.

At this pace, in five to ten years, a full-strength blow could cause a disaster on the scale of a natural catastrophe. In a few decades, he might punch a black hole into existence.

By comparison, the progress of human technology was a baby’s tentative steps.

If exposed, faced with a world’s scrutiny and malice…

Xi Gu worried that one day, he might lose control and strike the Earth itself.

This thought weighed heavily on him.

Destruction was easy.

But after humanity was gone, where would he go?

So, for the sake of humanity’s future—and his own—

He had to safeguard his psychological well-being.

Xi Gu quietly resolved—

Never, under any circumstances, would he expose himself to the eyes of the world.