September 5th, the 23rd day of the summer vacation.
There was still about a month to go before the end of the summer break, and every cultivation high school's return date was brought forward. That was to say, even though school started on October 7th, students had to hand in their homework and take a new round of entrance tests on October 1st.
After half a year, Wang Ling still remembered the awkwardness he had felt when he had just entered No. 60 High School. The new entrance test wouldn't affect the class allocation, and would only assess each student's overall ability after half a year of study. There were improvements, but there were also those who dropped the ball … The key was the extent of the improvement.
And this was the new problem of "suppressing his score" that Wang Ling was now facing.
This test was much more difficult to suppress, because he had to clearly know the learning situation of everyone in his class, then calculate the extent of their improvement, and finally decide how much he had improved …
That was right, even if it was the extent of his improvement, Wang Ling had to keep his marks down and maintain his ranking among the progressives in class.
Wang Ling had never been a procrastinator when it came to summer homework; he wasn't like 99% of people who would choose to cram in a fast food restaurant in the last few days of the holiday.
When it came to homework, Wang Ling preferred to do it in an orderly manner. Furthermore, he didn't need to do some copying himself.
When it came to handwriting, he had already stored a database of all the fonts in the world in his brain, and it was fairly easy to use the Great Horse Healing Technique to imitate handwriting. Thus, even if he didn't practice writing, he didn't have to worry about his handwriting being ugly.
Every time he handed in his homework, including for exams, Teacher Pan always felt that Wang Ling's handwriting looked as if it had been printed out; each word was square and neat …
…
My last summer vacation is to write a report.
This was also the homework assigned by every homeroom teacher. It was something that must be completed, and it was also a bonus for graduation.
He actually didn't care whether he got extra points or not, but points would be deducted if he didn't write the report …
The topic of the report: My Classmate.
Requirements: After spending half a semester together, you must have gotten to know and understand your classmates. Please write an evaluation of at least 800 words for each of the five classmates you are most familiar with. Talk about how you got to know them and how you got to know them. (Don't make things up. The story must be true. You can complain, but don't use any insulting words.)
"…"
Hmm …
Wang Ling mentally searched through Teacher Pan's homework requirements, and unexpectedly felt a sense of melancholy that he hadn't felt in a long time.
An essay of 800 words wasn't much … but it was a bit much to write five essays!
The main point was that he couldn't let Pen and Eraser do this for him. These two gremlins wrote mechanically. Wang Ling remembered that when Pen had written an essay for him previously, the language teacher had commented at the bottom: Why didn't you copy out The Classic Collection of Good Words and Good Sentences?
Therefore, that assignment … the language teacher gave a low grade.
The drawback of mechanical writing is that what is written is devoid of emotion, and there are too many traces of selective copying of essays.
This time, he wanted to write a true story.
He felt that he needed to at least have a deeper understanding of these five people before he could start writing.
And when it came to the five people who had the deepest relationship with him in class …
Super Chen, Dopey Guo, Feather Lin, Little Peanut, as well as Lotus Sun, whom the author actually didn't know but whom she still hadn't forgotten …
Out of the five of them, he had put four of them on the "Be Wary" list at the beginning of the semester.
In the blink of an eye, half a semester had passed.
"Time really flies by …" Wang Ling couldn't help but murmur.
After writing more than nine hundred chapters, only half a semester had passed. In fact, Wang Ling didn't know how many chapters this author would have to finish writing before he graduated from high school … No, perhaps he should ask, how many days would it take for him to finish writing.
After all, this shameless and unprincipled author only updated one chapter a day.
…
Every time he thought of this, Wang Ling couldn't help taking a deep breath.
He calmed himself down, then opened his eyes. When the golden petals bloomed in his pupils, the power of the King's Eye had already been completely released.
A ray of light penetrated the void and opened up a piece of past history. He was searching through memories of Super Chen.
In the blink of an eye, Wang Ling had already moved from his desk to a sea of stars. This was the memory space that the King's Eye had penetrated, and at that moment, all around him were fragments of Super Chen's memories.
He stretched out his hand and grasped a fragment in his palm …
A memory that didn't belong to Wang Ling suddenly appeared in his mind.
All kinds of memories and scenes appeared vividly on the paper like old photos.
4383 years …
Super Chen could already remember things when he was three years old.
The Chen family ran a martial arts dojo, and Father Chen was the head of the dojo.
One night in late December, the weather in Songhai city suddenly turned cold, and a biting cold wind drifted down with snowflakes.
When Super Chen woke up, there was already a thick layer of snow outside.
The sky had just brightened, and the outside world was covered in pure white. The faint light from the clouds shone on the snowflakes, and Super Chen opened his eyes a little uncomfortably.
It was actually not even six o 'clock.
That night, Super Chen slept in his family's dojo.
When he opened his eyes, he could already hear the sound of wooden dummies being struck outside.
In the courtyard in front of the dojo, Father Chen had set up some martial arts training equipment.
Three-year-old Super Chen didn't fully understand how on earth they worked, but he knew that if he wanted to become stronger, he had to deal with them every day.
In the courtyard, Father Chen was bare-chested, revealing his firm muscles as he wrestled with the wooden dummies in the courtyard barefoot.
He stretched out his fist and then swiftly pulled it back. His movements were as swift and violent as a viper's, and Super Chen's eyes couldn't even catch the shadow of his fist.
Father Chen had deliberately let Super Chen live in the dojo. For generations, the Chen family had cultivated ancient body techniques, and in this era of national cultivation, body techniques were still indispensable.
But now, more and more children would rather become spellcasters who cast fireballs from the back than be men who used their exquisite physical skills to charge and break through enemy lines.
In Father Chen's view, a real man should charge forward! Instead of hiding in the back and casting spells.
Seeing that Super Chen had woken up, Father Chen knew that his time had come. He completely suppressed his aura and exhaled white air. The white air was as long as a flying dragon's breath, and it actually shot out over ten meters away. Super Chen's little mouth dropped open in astonishment.
"Do you want to learn, child?" Father Chen looked at Super Chen.
"Yes!" Super Chen was already infected.
"Good boy!" Father Chen rubbed Super Chen's round little head, picked him up from the inner room, and carried him to an old locust tree.
Father Chen: "Go on, child."
Super Chen: "???"
Father Chen: "If you want to practice martial arts, you have to rub trees first. From today onwards, use your hands to rub tree bark. Until the tree is bald. "
Super Chen: "???"
Wang Ling: "…"
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