Chapter Ninety-Seven: Fame Breeds Fear, Just as Pigs Fear Growing Fat!

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Lu Siyu walked briskly with her hands in the pockets of her work jacket. As she was about to disappear around the corner ahead, Tang Fei called out hastily, “Lu Siyu.”

Lu Siyu turned to look at Tang Fei, her face expressionless as she asked, “What is it?”

“I want to ask you something,” Tang Fei said carefully, choosing his words with caution.

What if she had no connection to that old man at all?

After all, Lu was a prominent surname on the New Star. There were many people who shared the same name or surname, not necessarily related.

“If you want to ask, then ask. Don’t waste my time,” Lu Siyu said impatiently, urging him to get to the point.

“Do you know someone named Lu Yu?” Tang Fei looked directly into Lu Siyu’s eyes and asked.

“No,” Lu Siyu replied coldly and without hesitation.

“Oh,” Tang Fei nodded and smiled, “Then there’s nothing more. That’s all I wanted to ask.”

Lu Siyu shot Tang Fei a cold glance and then turned to leave.

Watching her retreating figure, Tang Fei pondered the truthfulness of her answer.

If she didn’t know the old man, then why did she say, “Why did you guys come back?” earlier?

Was she deliberately hiding something? Or was she just putting on an act?

Or perhaps the old man’s real name wasn’t Lu Yu—maybe that was an alias?

Forget it, he decided not to dwell on things he couldn’t figure out.

He would wait for a chance to return to the Old Land and ask the old man face to face.

Suddenly, another thought crossed Tang Fei’s mind.

She said, “Why did you guys come back?” That phrase wasn’t directed at him and Xiaopang. If it were, she would have said, “Why are you coming?” rather than “Why did you come back?”

The “you guys” must have referred to the old man.

“Could it be that the old man has also returned to the New Star?”

Tang Fei shook his head.

If the old man had come back, he would have contacted them.

Even if he had done something wrong, neither he nor Xiaopang were the type to betray or snitch on others.

Tang Fei’s mind was a tangle of confusion, with countless threads entwined.

Returning to the classroom, the students were already dismantling a mechanical snake head.

Tang Fei temporarily set aside his distractions, calmed himself, and began observing and learning alongside them.

These students had entered school earlier and some had studied mechanical knowledge for years. Their hands-on skills and understanding of machinery far surpassed Tang Fei, who was just a novice. This was a crucial moment for him to absorb knowledge eagerly.

Watching Lu Siyu’s impressive performance, Tang Fei’s vague notion of “What exactly is machinery?” suddenly became clear.

Perhaps, one day, he could be like her.

“Classmate,” Tang Fei nudged a boy beside him and asked, “How is our class president so talented?”

“Because her surname is Lu,” the boy answered matter-of-factly.

—

Wherever there is machinery, there is the Gongshu Lu family.

Since the ancient founder Luban established the craft as a discipline thousands of years ago, it has been passed down and applied in every aspect of life through the efforts of his descendants.

The Gongshu family stands out among them. Though they usually keep a low profile, every major technological revolution has close ties to them.

From the earliest hoes and sickles to airplanes and cannons, and up to the massive mechanical revolution before the Great Catastrophe,

the emergence of starships and super star vessels enabled humanity to travel swiftly between planets.

Their silent toil and dedication are also behind various high-tech weapons and intelligent machines.

This industry touches everyone’s life, yet the Gongshu Lu family’s name rarely appears publicly.

They are so discreet as to seem almost mysterious.

This has been their survival principle for centuries.

Lu Siyu was a member of the Gongshu Lu family. After leaving class, she drove straight back to the Lu estate.

The Lu family home was an ancestral mansion on Luban Mountain, housing the legitimate descendants and core technology.

It was said Luban Mountain was heavily fortified, easy to defend but hard to conquer—even a hundred thousand troops could not breach it.

There was a saying: one family surpasses three armies.

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Lu Siyu parked her car in the courtyard and headed directly to a small house on the left.

She knocked on the door; the iron gate responded by sliding open.

The gate slowly retracted to both sides, seemingly capable of completely merging and overlapping.

Once Lu Siyu entered, the iron gate slid back into place, sealing the courtyard tightly.

A middle-aged man with a square face emerged from inside. Seeing Lu Siyu return, he smiled and asked, “Siyu, what brings you back today?”

“Has he come back?” Lu Siyu asked, looking at the man.

“You’re so vague. Who are you talking about? I don’t even know the name, how would I know if he’s back?” the man replied, confused.

Lu Siyu studied his facial expressions carefully, unwilling to miss a detail, and said, “You know who I mean.”

Lu Zhiyong looked at Lu Siyu and sighed softly. “Siyu, you should know, he’s been gone for many years. If he came back, could he really resist seeing you?”

“What is there that he can’t do?”

“Siyu.”

“I saw someone at school named Tang Fei using his ‘Heart of Uselessness.’ Only he knows that technique.”

“Heart of Uselessness? Didn’t he make that technique public? There are quite a few Lu family members who know it.”

“Why don’t you ask who Tang Fei is instead of trying to explain that many people know the technique?” Lu Siyu sneered.

“Siyu, why don’t you trust your second uncle? If I deceive others, could I deceive you?” Lu Zhiyong smiled bitterly.

Lu Siyu gave him a cold glance and turned away.

“That girl,”

After Lu Siyu walked away, Lu Zhiyong said, “Are you really not going to see him?”

An old man silently appeared behind him, his eyes greedy yet sorrowful as he stared at the tightly closed iron gate, as if he could still see some lingering shadow there.

If Tang Fei and Xiaopang saw this, they would surely exclaim in astonishment.

This was the old man they mistakenly thought was still on the Old Land—their godfather.

“No,” the old man shook his head and said solemnly, “What good would it do? What could change? Hatred will remain.”

“She came looking for you, asking about you. That means she still cares,” Lu Zhiyong comforted him. “You left without a word back then and disappeared suddenly. Siyu was just a little girl. It’s understandable she’s upset.”

“I understand. I don’t blame her at all. The one at fault is me. I owe her so much.”

“Then what will you do?”

“Let’s focus on the main matter,” the old man interrupted Lu Zhiyong. “I can’t reveal myself yet.”

“But Siyu is already suspicious,” Lu Zhiyong said. “If she targets Tang Fei, what will you do? Exposure is only a matter of time.”

“If I’m right, she’s already been noticed by Tang Fei. She can’t hide her emotions well; that kid has probably seen through her. That’s why Siyu came back so fiercely,” the old man frowned deeply. “From what I know about him, he must have already taken a step to probe. That’s why she ran back so aggressively.”

“Do you want to meet them?”

“Not yet. The timing isn’t right,” the old man shook his head. “His relationship with the princess is too close. The royal family won’t be at ease. There must be spies around him now; anyone who appears will be added to Chen Fenglei’s ‘blacklist.’”

“If Chen Fenglei’s old dog sniffs out anything suspicious, things will get messy. Many will be in danger, including you.”

“What danger am I afraid of?” Lu Zhiyong said boldly. “Since I dared to bring my eldest brother back from the Old Land, I’ve prepared for the worst.”

“Meaningless bloodshed is pointless,” the old man shook his head. “Give me more time.”

“What kind of time do you want? What are you waiting for?”

“Waiting for the right moment,” the old man said. “Sharpen the sword more, so it strikes faster when it cuts.”

“Whose hand holds that sword?”

“No one can control him,” the old man said firmly. “Only he can control himself.”

—

Tang Fei was training swordsmanship in the gravity chamber.

Each strike felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, nearly exhausting all his strength.

Xiaopang could swing a hammer under twenty times gravity; Tang Fei considered himself a cultivator and wanted to set an example for his younger brother.

So he started at twenty times gravity, striking one sword after another.

Soon, he felt breathless and stiff.

This wasn’t an exam or competition, so training inside the gravity chamber wasn’t broadcast publicly.

No one could see his current state, but he could.

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He needed to grow stronger—stronger and stronger.

Strength itself was a kind of madness.

Weakness itself was a kind of mistake.

Survival of the fittest held true everywhere, whether on the Old Land or New Star.

Tang Fei set a goal of a thousand sword strikes.

He had eight hundred to go.

When Tang Fei left the gravity chamber, he was exhausted, legs weak as if a gust of wind could knock him down.

His face was pale, sweat drenched his forehead, and he could barely hold his long sword.

His clothes were soaked with sweat, looking as if he had just been pulled from water.

Teacher Ran Ran rushed over, supporting Tang Fei’s arm and asking, “Tang Fei, are you alright? Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

“I just... have no strength left,” Tang Fei tried to smile but his facial muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

“You must control your training intensity. Don’t overdo it. Starting tomorrow, follow my training plan,” Ran Ran said seriously, concerned about Tang Fei. She feared he might injure himself for pushing too hard.

The ancient martial arts department had once had talented students who ruined themselves by overexertion. She didn’t want Tang Fei to suffer the same fate.

“It’s fine,” Tang Fei smiled, “If you don’t push yourself, you won’t know your limits.”

“That’s not the way to push,” Ran Ran said. “Come on, I’ll arrange a recovery pod for you. Rest inside for a while.”

Recovery pods help students restore body and mind quickly, but they were expensive, and the dojo only had three.

Teachers had to apply to use them—otherwise, if every student used one after training, there’d be no chance to get in.

“Thank you, teacher,” Tang Fei said gratefully.

With Ran Ran’s help, Tang Fei finally enjoyed the same treatment as Xiaopang—two hours resting in a recovery pod.

When Tang Fei emerged, it was dusk. Many were heading to the cafeteria for dinner.

“Brother, are you okay now?” Xiaopang had come out of the gravity chamber early and waited anxiously by the pod when he heard Tang Fei had trained to exhaustion.

“I’m fine,” Tang Fei smiled.

Ran Ran examined him carefully and said, “Looks like you’ve recovered well. Tang Fei, I seriously protest. You must not make such a mistake again. If you get injured, who will I appeal to?”

“Yes, I’ll follow your plan,” Tang Fei smiled.

He sensed that Ran Ran truly cared about him and his health.

That feeling of being cared for was wonderful.

“Train scientifically and use the right methods. That’s how you get twice the result with half the effort,” Ran Ran said, pleased with Tang Fei’s attitude. “I’m designing a training plan tailored to you. It will be ready tonight. Starting tomorrow, follow it.”

“Tang Fei, trust us in this—we’re professionals.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll listen to you, teacher.”

Just then, a loud voice echoed through the dojo hall:

“Tang Fei, where are you? Do you dare accept my challenge?”

Tang Fei glanced at Ran Ran and asked, “What’s going on? Students are allowed to fight? I suggest the school expel troublemakers like this.”

“This isn’t a fight,” Ran Ran explained. “We’re in the ancient martial arts department. This is the dojo. Any student can challenge their preferred opponent. The school doesn’t forbid it; some even encourage it.”

“So I’m their preferred opponent?” Tang Fei asked.

“You defeated Shen Qingping using mid-grade Qi control and are very popular in school. Plus, your forest combat video went viral. It’s normal for people to challenge you.”

“Only by defeating famous people can one quickly become famous. Many rise that way.”

“Fame is a double-edged sword,” Tang Fei sighed. “Can I refuse?”

“Of course,” Ran Ran nodded. “The match only counts if both sides sign a challenge letter. But refusing might affect your reputation—people might think you’re cowardly.”

“Oh,” Tang Fei nodded, “I refuse.”

...

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(End of chapter)