A Step to Heaven, A Step to Hell

After much back-and-forth, Eric finally managed to get rid of little Amy.

In doing so, he once again found himself owing countless "promises" to his sister. He couldn't even remember how many things he had promised her by now.

...

The next day, April 8th.

Eric became the talk of the 12th grade, especially in Class 4.

Before he even arrived in the classroom, Joe Johnson was already there, and as soon as he entered, the class gossip masters—Chris and Mark—immediately started grilling him about what happened the day before.

Unable to contain his shock from yesterday's events, Joe leaned in with a mysterious air and said, "113 calories!"

He didn't mention the second test result of 108 calories, since Eric's physical state had declined by then, making the reading less accurate.

But even just saying "113 calories" was enough to send the entire class into a frenzy!

Suddenly, one of the two "average students" in Class 4—Eric—was no longer ordinary.

Just yesterday, everyone had been on the same playing field, worrying about the cultural exam. Eric's performance in cultural subjects wasn't particularly outstanding either. But today, with a blood vitality reading of 113 calories, he had leaped ahead of the pack.

One thing the students knew for sure: last year, the minimum blood vitality requirement for Columbus Knight University was 112 calories.

That meant Eric had already reached the threshold for entry into Knight Academy.

No wonder he was suddenly the center of attention.

Sitting in the front row, Joe Johnson was utterly stunned, mumbling, "This makes no sense. No way this is real! With that skinny frame of his, and he's higher than me?"

Even in this world, where martial artists' strength and blood vitality followed scientific principles, Eric was clearly an exception.

Joe kept repeating that it wasn't "scientific," while Chris, on the verge of losing it, was shaking with disbelief, muttering over and over, "This isn't fair!"

"113 calories!"

"I'm only at 108…"

Mark, sitting nearby, casually corrected him, "108? That's me. I remember you were at 107."

Chris, thoroughly embarrassed, snapped, "That was two weeks ago! I'm at 108 now!"

Mark just shrugged with a calm smile, "Alright, you're at 108, but Eric's at 113. The numbers don't lie."

Chris's face was filled with frustration, and he turned to Joe, asking, "Joe, please tell me you're joking, right?"

Joe, flipping through a book, replied nonchalantly, "Why would I joke about this? Besides, his score is lower than mine, so it doesn't really affect me."

"How can you say that?" Chris cried out in anguish. "Think about how miserable we've been! We're going to class, attending extra tutoring, working out every day. No fried food, no grilled meat, not even a single soda. We can't even have ice cream in the summer!"

"And Eric? He doesn't seem to have any dietary restrictions at all! Joe, aren't you even a little bit jealous?"

At this, Joe started to lose his composure a little.

Ordinary students might envy the perks that come with being a martial arts candidate, but what they didn't know was that martial arts students actually envied the carefree lifestyle of regular students.

In their preparation for the martial arts exam, Joe and the others had sacrificed a lot—choking down unpalatable supplements, strictly controlling their diets. And despite all that, there were no guarantees they would succeed. As Chris had pointed out, while they were nibbling on bland health foods, others were happily munching on grilled meat skewers and sipping cold drinks, a sight that filled them with bitterness.

Joe smiled weakly, "What can we do? Some people are just born with extraordinary talent."

"No way!" Chris gritted his teeth. "That guy doesn't even work out. I can accept his high blood vitality, but I can't stand it! Tonight, let's drag him to the gym, spar with him, and beat him up. That'll make me feel better!"

Joe raised an eyebrow, then laughed, "Come on, we're all classmates. No need for that."

"No way! I won't feel better until I give him a good beating!" Chris exclaimed, full of frustration.

Joe tried to reason with him, "Eric's only got a slightly higher blood vitality than you, his cultural scores are a bit better, and, sure, maybe he's a bit more handsome too. But come on, no need to get upset. Besides, if he makes it into Knight Academy, it'll reflect well on all of us."

"Joe, whose side are you on?" Chris fumed.

Joe, still flipping through his book, replied without looking up, "I'm on the side of studying."

Just as Chris was about to lose his temper, he felt a tap on his shoulder and heard Eric's voice from behind. "Chris, I think you're right. That guy needs a good beating. No point getting yourself all worked up over it."

Chris froze, turning around with a sheepish grin, "I was just kidding. We're best buds, right? I'd never do something like that."

Though he said this, Chris couldn't help but worry: If Eric really does get into Knight Academy one day, will I be the one he ends up beating?

Eric, however, didn't seem to care and just smiled, "Don't listen to Joe. There's no way I'm at 113 calories. At most—"

"At most, you're at 115," Chris interrupted, rolling his eyes and teasing.

Hearing this, the whole class groaned. Eric's attempt to downplay his score only made everyone even more envious.

Despite everything, Chris's curiosity wasn't satisfied. He asked, "Eric, do you have any secrets for training your blood vitality?"

"Of course not! If I had some magic trick, I'd already be a martial artist," Eric quickly denied. "If there really were such secrets, everyone would be a martial artist by now. We wouldn't even need to take these exams."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Chris sighed, looking dejected. "Aside from you, Joe, Mark, and Lisa, the rest of us are basically just here to make up the numbers. We've got a 99% chance of just being spectators."

Joe, who had been pretending to study, suddenly chimed in, "Not necessarily. This year, blood vitality levels seem higher across the board, and even I'm not sure how things will go. In our class alone, there are already four people with blood vitality over 110 calories. And there are plenty more in the other regular classes. I'd estimate there are at least 60 students in total. In the advanced classes, the numbers might be fewer, but at least 40 of them are over 110 calories."

Joe did some quick math, his expression growing more serious. "That means our school alone has nearly 100 students with blood vitality over 110."

Hearing this, the entire class fell silent.

The competition for martial arts students had always been fierce, and regular students were already at a disadvantage. Now, knowing how many strong contenders they were up against, the pressure felt even greater.

After a moment, Chris couldn't help but sigh, "Looks like it's going to be even tougher this year."

Eric silently calculated. If their school alone had this many students with blood vitality over 110, then just having 110 wouldn't be enough. He needed to raise his blood vitality even more to ensure he could pass the upcoming tests.

...

As the day went on, classes proceeded as usual. Everyone quieted down as the school day unfolded.

Eric alternated between reading his cultural textbooks and reviewing materials for the professional exams. Occasionally, classmates would strike up a conversation with him, but most of the time, they were busy with their own studies.

Chris, having been thoroughly rattled by the morning's revelations, buried himself in his work with renewed vigor. Except for bathroom breaks, he spent nearly the entire morning with his nose buried in his books.

When the morning classes finally ended and Eric was about to go to lunch, Joe called him over.

"Don't leave after lunch," Joe said, walking up to Eric. "The homeroom teacher wants a few of us to meet him in his office."

It wasn't just Eric—Joe, Mark, and Lisa had also been called to the office.

"William's coming to school tomorrow, and the school wants us to go meet him. The homeroom teacher pulled some strings and got us this opportunity. We'll be able to meet him early, and maybe he'll share some useful info," Joe explained.

Eric was surprised. "Why would they pick us to do this?"

Joe smiled and explained, "Did you forget? The homeroom teacher is good friends with the head of the school's academic office. It's a small favor for him to arrange something like this."

Hearing this, Eric understood. It was thanks to their homeroom teacher, Michael Wells, who had connections with the academic office head, that they had this chance to meet the senior student early.

...

That afternoon, as planned, the group headed to the homeroom teacher's office.

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