The black SUVs were gone. The wail of their VIP sirens faded into the normal, midday city traffic. The show was over.
Chen Long's motorcade had vanished, but a vacuum of stunned, awkward silence remained. The crowd, which had been a roaring sea of adoration, was now a confused, muttering mass. They had just watched their "local hero" be publicly and utterly humiliated. They were dispersing, their phones full of footage, their minds full of pity.
Lin Hao was left alone on the steps, the epicenter of that pity.
Fatty Zhang, Su Yun, and Recruiter Han remained, a small, awkward island in the dispersing crowd.
Fatty was vibrating. His face was a blotchy, furious red, and his hands were clenched so tightly his thick knuckles were white.
"That... that bastard!" he finally exploded, the words ripping out of him in a low, furious roar. He kicked one of the concrete steps, a move he instantly regretted, letting out a sharp "Yow!" as he hopped on one foot. "An arrogant, silver-spooned, prick! I wanted to punch him! I swear to God, Lin Hao, I almost..."
Su Yun, on the other hand, just looked heartbroken. She wasn't angry; she was worried.
"Lin Hao, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "That... that was cruel. What he did, what he said... you're a hero. He had no right."
Recruiter Han just cleared his throat, adjusting his suddenly-too-tight collar. "Mr. Chen is... intense," he offered weakly. "His standards are... high. Please, Mr. Lin, don't be discouraged. The Academy would still be..."
Lin Hao wasn't listening.
He pulled the cheap, stapled booklet from his hoodie pocket. Chen Long's "gift." The "Iron Muscle Mantra."
He looked at the trashy, pulpy cover, then calmly, methodically, brushed the dust from it, the dust it had picked up from his feet.
Fatty Zhang saw the motion, and his rage peaked again. "Don't even look at that piece of trash! He was mocking you! He threw it on the ground!"
Lin Hao just smoothed the cover. "He's right, you know."
The words were quiet, almost a mumble, but they cut through Fatty's anger like ice.
Fatty froze, his mouth half-open. "What... what did you just say?"
Lin Hao looked up. His face, which had been hidden by his cap, was now visible. And it wasn't humiliated. It wasn't sad. It was cold, analytical, and had a seriousness that scared Fatty more than Chen Long's aura had.
"He's right," Lin Hao repeated, his voice low and serious. "I am weak."
Su Yun and Fatty were stunned into silence.
"Boss... no!" Fatty finally burst out, his voice cracking. "That's crazy talk! Weak? You saved our lives! I saw you! You killed ten of those... those things! You tore a steel railing out of the ground!"
"That was brute strength," Lin Hao said, his voice flat. "It was clumsy. It was luck. He," he tapped the booklet, "has a method. A foundation. I don't."
This was the "truth" he had decided to share. It was a perfect, calculated lie, wrapped in a core of absolute fact.
Su Yun looked like she wanted to argue, to offer comfort. But Lin Hao's cold, logical self-assessment offered no room for it.
Lin Hao turned to her. His expression softened, just a fraction. "Su Yun. Thank you for... this." He gestured to where she and Fatty had stood by his side. "But I need to go. I need to be alone. Can you...?"
She understood. He was the "humbled hero," and he needed to lick his wounds. "Of course," she said immediately. "Lin Hao, if you need anything... a place to stay, to talk..." "I'm fine," he said, cutting her off, but not unkindly. "I just need to think. I'll see you."
Su Yun hesitated, her heart aching for him. But she nodded, gave Fatty a worried look, and walked away, disappearing into the dispersing crowd.
Recruiter Han, seeing his "Hero Class" recruit in a state of emotional turmoil, also backed off. "Take your time, son. The offer stands," he said, before quickly walking away to manage the PR disaster.
In seconds, it was just Lin Hao and Fatty Zhang, alone on the steps.
The mood shifted. The public performance was over.
Lin Hao looked at Fatty. He looked at the big, loyal, simple, and furious friend who had been willing to yell at a "Prodigy" for him. Su Yun was smart, kind, and empathetic. She was also a civilian.
Fatty... Fatty was a soldier.
"I meant what I said, Fatty," Lin Hao said, his voice dropping, all "humiliation" gone, replaced by a cold, deadly seriousness. "He's Level 4. I'm a 'lucky' Level 2. He's right. I'm weak. And I hate it."
Fatty's face hardened, his own anger mirroring Lin Hao's. "So what do we do, Boss? You want me to find him? I'll... I'll slash his tires. I'll..."
"No," Lin Hao said. "I need to get stronger. A lot stronger. But I can't do it here. I can't do it at an Academy, with him and his 'Guardian Families' looking over my shoulder."
He paused, his gaze locking onto Fatty's. This was the moment.
"I need my own place. A private place. Somewhere... somewhere no one can find me. Somewhere I can train."
He was testing him. Testing the limits of his loyalty.
"Fatty," Lin Hao said, using his real name for the first time. "I'm not a hero. I'm just a guy who got lucky. But I'm going to get strong enough that I don't need luck. I need allies. I need people who won't ask questions. Can I trust you?"
Fatty Zhang stared at him. He saw the "trash" manual in Lin Hao's hand. He saw the cold, burning determination in his friend's eyes. He had been given a choice. He could be a normal student in a world of gods... or he could be the first man to follow the real hero.
This was the call to adventure. This was his purpose.
Fatty's eyes, which had been red with anger, now lit up with a fierce, burning loyalty.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't ask questions. He didn't offer a handshake.
He took one step forward and did the one thing that felt right. He bowed, a short, deep, martial-arts-movie bow.
"To the death, Boss!"