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Urban God-Tier Ascender

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Chapter 4 I am determined to study diligently.

“We’re doomed, call an ambulance immediately!”

The onlookers shook their heads in disbelief.

One person taking on a whole gang? Especially when he’s just a high schooler.

Seeing his men charge forward, Qiang Ge wore a confident, almost smug expression.

“Zhou Wen, don’t be reckless!” Hui Yuming groaned weakly from the ground.

As a group approached, Zhou Wen felt a flicker of doubt. Though he had been in many fights before, he had never faced four or five opponents at once.

Yet, despite the odds, Zhou Wen refused to back down.

Suddenly, the lead thug threw a punch.

Zhou Wen instinctively raised his arm to block, then countered with a swift strike.

To his surprise, the thug staggered back several steps.

What?

Zhou Wen was taken aback—how had his strength increased so much?

More thugs rushed forward.

Zhou Wen landed a solid kick to one attacker’s abdomen.

With a loud thud, the thug collapsed, clutching his stomach, unable to rise again.

Zhou Wen was utterly stunned.

The astonishment wasn’t his alone; everyone present was shocked that a mere high school student could be so formidable.

Hui Yuming and Yang Ke, still on the ground, stared wide-eyed—since when had Zhou Wen become such a fierce fighter?

But Zhou Wen had no time to ponder. He simply knew he could overpower these men.

Fueled by newfound confidence, he clenched his fists and punched a lunging thug squarely in the face.

The thug’s nose instantly began to bleed profusely!

Unaware of the true extent of his strength, Zhou Wen unleashed his fists and feet relentlessly. Though he sustained minor injuries, they were inconsequential.

Moments later, the thugs lay sprawled on the floor, battered and bloodied.

Only Qiang Ge remained, dazed, standing frozen in a corner as if unable to comprehend the situation.

What… what’s going on?

Zhou Wen fixed a steely gaze on the ringleader and slowly approached, summoning every ounce of strength to deliver a resounding slap across Qiang Ge’s face.

“This slap is for my friends—consider it a warning not to bully anyone again!”

Smack!

Qiang Ge spat out several white teeth fragments, collapsing without resistance, knowing that fighting back would only bring harsher consequences.

Silence enveloped the room.

The sound of the slap seemed to echo throughout the internet café.

Everyone gingerly touched their own faces, still shaken.

A single slap that knocked out teeth—how much force had that taken?

Even Zhou Wen was astonished by his own strength.

Blood trickled from Qiang Ge’s mouth as he lay defeated—no one had anticipated this outcome.

Zhou Wen pressed a foot onto him, sneering coldly: “Want money or not?”

“No, no more,” Qiang Ge gasped, barely able to speak.

“Next time I catch you bullying someone, I won’t hold back.” Zhou Wen warned fiercely.

“Let’s go!”

Zhou Wen shot Qiang Ge a few sharp glances, then helped Yang Ke to his feet and called Hui Yuming to follow, calmly making their way out. He dared not linger, fearing other thugs might arrive—and he himself was still processing what had just happened.

The crowd quickly parted to clear a path.

“Wait!” the attendant called out.

“What is it?” Zhou Wen turned, his eyes icy cold.

The attendant hesitated, then glanced at the sprawled thugs on the ground and forced a smile: “Take care.”

As Zhou Wen departed, a venomous expression finally crossed Qiang Ge’s face.

He had memorized Zhou Wen—this matter was far from over.

Late into the night, few cars passed beneath the dim streetlights outside the internet café. Zhou Wen, Hui Yuming, and Yang Ke walked at a measured pace.

“Zhou Wen, how are you so strong now?” Hui Yuming exclaimed, amazed.

Zhou Wen smiled as he supported Yang Ke: “A few days ago, while training at home, I somehow opened my Ren and Du meridians. I just felt stronger.”

“Sounds like nonsense—people get hair loss when they get stronger, and you’ve still got all your hair.” Hui Yuming ruffled Zhou Wen’s hair but didn’t pull a single strand out.

“Alright, you should head home. Yang Ke and I live nearby; I’ll walk him back.” Zhou Wen chuckled.

“Good, with you around I feel safer. I’m off then.” Hui Yuming waved goodbye, though still puzzled.

As they walked, Yang Ke straightened up and suddenly spoke: “Zhou Wen, do you know why my family struggles so much?”

Tears welled in Yang Ke’s eyes.

“The Yiming Chemical Plant laid off workers, and my mom was among them. My dad has worked himself to exhaustion for years as a low-level supervisor. A few days ago, my mom was hit by a car while selling goods; the driver fled, and with no surveillance footage, the police haven’t caught him yet. I begged our relatives for money today just to pay hospital fees and look for a better hospital. But when I went to the restroom, those thugs tried to rob the money.”

Yang Ke broke free of Zhou Wen’s arm and crouched, sobbing.

“I wish my family were like Hui Yuming’s—he never lacks money and doesn’t even need to study hard, since he’ll go abroad and come back to run his dad’s company. I don’t want to study anymore. I want to work, to ease my parents’ burdens.”

Seeing his friend in such pain, Zhou Wen’s heart ached.

They had grown up together, and Zhou Wen knew Yang Ke’s pride was immense—he’d rather suffer alone than confide in others.

If not for the thugs, Zhou Wen might never have learned about Yang Ke’s mother’s accident, or that Yang Ke had begged relatives for money.

No matter what, Zhou Wen vowed never to let Yang Ke quit school and work.

Though Zhou Wen himself was a poor student, he could not bear to see his friend give up.

“Yang Ke, your parents work hard for your education. If you quit school, it will break their hearts the most.” Zhou Wen crouched down, embracing Yang Ke’s shoulders comfortingly.

Yang Ke wiped his tears and sighed deeply, slowly standing.

“Enough talk, let’s go.” He took Zhou Wen’s hand and calmly headed toward their neighborhood.

But the more composed Yang Ke appeared, the heavier the weight in Zhou Wen’s heart grew, and he didn’t know how to console him.

They walked in silence.

Zhou Wen’s neighborhood was a decades-old residential complex built for the Yiming Chemical Plant’s workers, worn and faded.

Both Zhou Wen’s and Yang Ke’s parents worked at the plant; though salaries were modest, they had housing provided—otherwise, with today’s sky-high prices, owning a home would be impossible.

After parting ways with Yang Ke, Zhou Wen felt a lingering heaviness inside. Yang Ke’s words haunted him, and memories surfaced.

He carefully unlocked his rusty old security door and pushed open the wooden door beyond, stepping inside.

The walls were yellowed, with patches of newspaper pasted here and there. Against the wall stood a green wardrobe, about as old as Zhou Wen himself.

On the dining table were two dishes—Zhou Wen’s favorites: braised chicken and cumin-spiced potatoes.

On the sofa, a middle-aged man dozed with his eyes closed.

Hearing the door open, the man awakened.

“Xiao Wen, back from evening study? Hungry? Your mom left some food for you.”

The man hurried to the table, glancing at the dishes.

“Looks like your mom forgot again; the food’s cold. I’ll warm it up.”

The clock on the wall read eleven o’clock.

This middle-aged man was Zhou Guangrui, Zhou Wen’s father, who had been waiting quietly for him all evening.

Watching Zhou Guangrui’s busy figure, Zhou Wen’s eyes grew moist.

The bedroom door opened, and Zhou Wen’s mother, Xu Hui, appeared. She looked aged and frail.

“Enough, you’re all thumbs. Let me handle it.” Xu Hui gently pushed Zhou Guangrui aside and began working in the kitchen.

Soon, the food was reheated.

Zhou Guangrui scooped rice from the cooker and placed it on the table.

Zhou Wen was indeed hungry—he hadn’t eaten since lunch before school.

He devoured the food quickly while Zhou Guangrui and Xu Hui watched silently.

“Xiao Wen, the college entrance exam is coming soon. You’ve been working hard. If you want anything, just ask us—we’ll make it for you.” Zhou Guangrui spoke softly.

“You’re all talk. You don’t cook—Mom does!” Xu Hui retorted good-naturedly.

“That’s because I care about my son.”

The meal was quickly finished. Zhou Wen considered heading straight to his room, but thoughts of Yang Ke stayed with him. He cleared the dishes and headed to the kitchen.

“Look at our son—so responsible, he even clears his own dishes.” Zhou Guangrui smiled proudly.

“Xiao Wen, leave it. I’ll wash.” Xu Hui followed him in.

Zhou Wen left the kitchen without a word.

Back in his bedroom, he sat on his bed staring at the wall, where several yellowed awards were posted.

“Zhou Wen, outstanding performance in first semester of Grade One, awarded ‘Three Good Student’ as encouragement.”

“Zhou Wen, excellent results in second grade finals, honored as ‘Model Student’.”

Memories flooded his mind.

“What? I’m not your biological child?”

“Where are my real parents?”

“My own parents don’t want me. I’m a child no one wants.”

“Xiao Wen, your parents don’t mean that. Don’t be angry.” Zhou Guangrui and Xu Hui said sadly.

“You’re not my parents! Stay out of my life! I won’t study anymore!” Zhou Wen threw his backpack down and stormed out.

That was early in his first year of high school.

He had accidentally discovered Zhou Guangrui and Xu Hui were his adoptive parents.

His biological parents were missing, and since then, Zhou Wen had completely fallen apart.

He spent his days gaming and idling, never studying.

Whenever Zhou Guangrui tried to intervene, Zhou Wen retorted that they had no right to control him.

The world outside grew quiet as Zhou Wen pushed aside those memories, rising to go to the restroom.

Passing his parents’ bedroom, he overheard raised voices.

“You must get treatment for your illness!” Xu Hui’s voice.

“It’s an old ailment. I’ll deal with it later. Treatment costs a fortune, and our son’s in his final year. After college expenses, where will we find the money?” Zhou Guangrui replied slowly.

“You’re just delaying. Xiao Xue is in her first year of high school now. She’ll be taking her exams soon, too. You can’t ignore it.” Xu Hui’s tone was reproachful.

Xiao Xue, Zhou Wen’s younger sister, was Zhou Guangrui’s biological daughter.

“There’s no money because the plant is laying off workers. With the government cracking down on pollution, the factory might close soon. We need to make as much as we can now—otherwise, no seed money to start a business.”

Two deep sighs echoed. Zhou Wen was lost in thought.

He had never cared about his family’s struggles and now learned his father was ill. What illness did he have?

The adjacent bedroom door was ajar. Zhou Wen peered in to see a ponytailed girl studying at her desk.

That was his sister, Zhou Xue.

Zhou Wen always treated Zhou Xue kindly. She studied at Yiming No. 2 High School and far outperformed him academically.

And here she was, still studying late into the night.

Zhou Wen felt a pang of sadness.

Back in his room, he sat at his desk beneath the dim lamp, deep in thought.

This time, his contemplation lasted long and hard.

Yang Ke’s plight struck Zhou Wen deeply. He had encouraged Yang Ke not to give up on school—but what about himself?

Now, with his adoptive father ill and unwilling to seek treatment to save money for Zhou Wen’s education, he felt a heavy guilt.

Yes, he was a child no one wanted—but without the Zhou family, he might have starved or ended up homeless. They had raised him selflessly all these years; why vent his anger on them?

Zhou Wen realized how foolish he had been these past years.

Thankfully, all could still be made right.

For this family, for his adoptive parents,

Zhou Wen resolved to begin anew—to study diligently and secure admission to a prestigious university.

Without hesitation, he opened his math workbook and began practicing problems.

In his final year, all foundational knowledge was covered; what remained was intensive practice.

Today, his mind felt unusually sharp; he even grasped some challenging concepts.

After completing ten multiple-choice questions and checking answers, he had gotten seven right.

Zhou Wen was astonished.

Before, he had only managed to answer two correctly at most.

The math teacher often joked that if he threw Zhou Wen’s paper on the ground and stomped on it, it would yield more correct answers.

Disbelieving, Zhou Wen tried another set of ten questions.