The System Arrived Four Years Early, but the Anomaly Is Still a Juvenile - Chapter 101

If relentless training can push a person’s physique to two or even three times that of an ordinary human, then Deng Yuqi’s last strike had just unleashed triple the strength of an average person.

Every move was calculated, every action pushed to the limit.

Deng Yuqi was using Bajiquan—a Chinese martial art known for its explosive power.

Shen Ge felt his entire arm go numb from the impact, stumbling back several steps before barely steadying himself. But Deng Yuqi had no intention of letting up. She pressed the attack, her left arm hooking inward to pull Shen Ge into a clinch, followed by a ruthless elbow strike from her right arm.

“First, the upward elbow flips left and right; second, the embracing elbow follows with a step forward!” Section Chief Chen barked from the sidelines, his words both an explanation of Deng Yuqi’s techniques and a tacit encouragement for her to keep going.

Shen Ge attempted to counter with his special combat skills, but Deng Yuqi didn’t dodge—she met every strike head-on, forcing him into a defensive stance. Despite being a grown man, Shen Ge found himself grimacing under the pressure.

“Internalize the eight intents, externalize the eight forms, release power in eight directions. The eight intents: alarm, ferocity, ruthlessness, explosiveness, savagery, divinity, urgency… The eight forms: dragon, tiger, bear, monkey, swallow, dog, eagle, quail…” The faster Section Chief Chen recited, the fiercer Deng Yuqi’s assault became.

Shen Ge endured another elbow strike, then pivoted to wrap his arms around her, intending to execute a suplex. But before he could complete the move, Deng Yuqi countered with a bow-step “Iron Mountain Crash,” sending him flying backward. He landed hard on the ground, his breath ragged and blood surging.

Over the past two months, Shen Ge had sparred with plenty of people in the department—from instructors like Feng Chengxiu and Yu Tiexiong to elite operatives like Zhang Hu, Zhao Long, Wang Han, and Ma Chao. Even the most aggressive among them, the “Stallone No. 2” Feng Chengxiu, couldn’t match the sheer brutality of Deng Yuqi’s strikes.

This was absurd!

Deng Yuqi was tall and slender, with delicate-looking limbs. Who would’ve guessed her bones were practically as hard as stone? Here Shen Ge was, a full-grown man, and he was the one feeling the pain from their clashes.

“Intent guides qi, qi drives force,” Section Chief Chen said smugly, clearly pleased with the outcome. “The human body has its limits, but traditional martial arts exist to push those limits to perfection. No, you won’t be leaping over rooftops or flying through the air, but you can forge your body into a lethal weapon.”

Deng Yuqi walked over and offered Shen Ge a hand up, grinning. “Been sitting in the office too long—I’m a bit rusty. Three years ago, you’d have been carried out on a stretcher.”

Shen Ge coughed, rubbing his chest to ease the discomfort. “Damn, if you’re this strong, why do you even need us? Next time there’s a supernatural incident, you go first.”

“Sure thing,” Deng Yuqi replied with a laugh.

Lowering his voice, Shen Ge asked, “Did you learn all this from Section Chief Chen?”

“Mostly, but I studied Bajiquan with my shiniang (master’s wife). My shifu specializes in Tai Chi. He always said, ‘What’s a girl doing learning Bajiquan?’ and tried to get me to train in Tai Chi instead.”

“And then?” Shen Ge pressed, curious.

“Then Shifu got his ass kicked by Shiniang, and I ended up learning Bajiquan. Back then, some people at HQ looked down on female agents. So I beat up a dozen of them single-handedly. Someone like Feng Chengxiu? I could take three of him at once back in the day. How do you think I earned the nickname ‘Rakshasa’ of the Special Response Division?” Deng Yuqi said proudly.

“…”

Damn.

A new benchmark for combat prowess had been established in the Special Response Division. Shen Ge mentally calculated his own strength—without using his supernatural traits, he could probably take on half a Feng Chengxiu at best.

If Deng Yuqi went all out, she could probably handle six of him.

As Deng Yuqi and Shen Ge walked back to the sidelines, Section Chief Chen shot Shen Ge a triumphant look. “Well, Xiao Shen? Convinced yet? Must feel pretty rough getting your ass handed to you by a woman, huh? Train with me in Tai Chi, and one day, you’ll beat Xiao Qi and reclaim your pride!”

“…” Did I really lose that badly?

Sure, Deng Yuqi’s attacks were relentless, but Shen Ge had managed to deflect most of them with his special combat techniques. Even if she’d been holding back, at worst, it was a 40-60 split in her favor.

But the way Section Chief Chen made it sound, it was like Deng Yuqi had pinned him down and pummeled him until he cried uncle.

Shen Ge sighed, then ventured, “Traditional martial arts really are impressive. So… can I skip the middleman and just learn Bajiquan from your shiniang?”

“…”

Section Chief Chen’s face fell instantly, while Deng Yuqi burst out laughing.

But Shen Ge wasn’t entirely joking. During the spar, he’d seen the potential in traditional martial arts. No, they wouldn’t turn him into some mythical warrior capable of killing with a flick of the wrist, but they could maximize the human body’s potential far beyond what standard combat techniques offered.

Recognizing Shen Ge’s genuine interest, Deng Yuqi offered to arrange a meeting with her shiniang.

Section Chief Chen, meanwhile, was left sulking. He’d hoped to recruit a new disciple, only to end up playing matchmaker for someone else—someone he couldn’t even hope to defeat in a fight.

If I couldn’t beat her back then, I sure as hell can’t now.

After Deng Yuqi left, Section Chief Chen had Feng Chengxiu continue as Shen Ge’s sparring partner while he explained the fundamentals of Bajiquan.

Shen Ge wasn’t training to become some legendary martial artist—modern combat arts didn’t allow for that kind of fantasy. But there were still benefits: it accelerated his physical conditioning, sharpened his reflexes, and refined his combat mindset. After all, these were techniques honed over millennia.

By the end of the day’s training, Shen Ge was exhausted. He’d initially been on a reduced regimen due to his recent injuries, but the addition of specialized combat drills and martial arts had ramped up the intensity, leaving his body drained.

And that wasn’t even counting his other responsibilities—patrolling for supernatural threats, engaging in random incidents to boost rewards, and most importantly… testing his new abilities.

Testing his supernatural traits wasn’t easy. He couldn’t exactly experiment on his colleagues without raising suspicion. His secret identity was already hanging by a thread—doing that would be outright suicide.

Practicing at home only went so far. Without real feedback, it felt incomplete.

The next day

Shen Ge slept in until noon, only waking when Cheng Shengnan called to ask if he wanted to play tennis.

“Tennis?”

Shen Ge joked that he might stand a chance with a game controller, but with an actual racket? Maybe badminton—he’d once won a neighborhood tournament, after all.

His only real exposure to tennis was from an anime where the players could literally kill with their serves.

Wait. Killer tennis?

A thought struck him. What if he used his supernatural abilities to manipulate the ball’s trajectory, like in that anime? Wouldn’t that be perfect for refining his control?

Talk about perfect timing.

Cheng Shengnan’s invitation was like a gift from the heavens. Just as he was looking for a way to practice fine-tuning his abilities, she’d handed him the perfect opportunity.

After some back-and-forth, they settled on badminton at Tianchuan Sports Center.

…..

When Shen Ge arrived, Cheng Shengnan was already waiting, dressed in sportswear with her own racket in hand—not a rental.

“You look like a pro. Don’t tell me you’re actually good at this?” Shen Ge teased.

Cheng Shengnan, now wearing contact lenses, looked strikingly different in her athletic gear, her toned legs drawing appreciative glances from others nearby. Still adjusting to the contacts, she reflexively reached to adjust nonexistent glasses and smiled.

“I’m decent. I once played in an exhibition match at Wimbledon.”

“Well, I’ve won Wimbledon before.”

“Then I’ll be learning from you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

They started playing, and to Shen Ge’s surprise, Cheng Shengnan held her own against him. Despite his two months of intensive training, the match was evenly matched.

“You’re pretty good. Who’d you play against at Wimbledon?” Shen Ge asked between rallies.

Even though this was badminton, her athleticism was undeniable. He was silently relieved they hadn’t gone with tennis—that might’ve been embarrassing.

“Caroline Wozniacki. At her retirement exhibition.”

Who?

Before Shen Ge could process that, Cheng Shengnan added, “Since you’re a Wimbledon champion, why don’t we try tennis next?”

“Uh… well, actually, I meant I won the Wenjiang Supermarket Amateur Neighborhood Championship.” Shen Ge’s greatest strength was knowing when to fold.

No way was he stepping onto a tennis court against someone who’d shared the court with a former world No. 1. His tennis skills were strictly console-based, courtesy of Prince of Tennis’s Ryoma Echizen. Three missed serves in a row would be too humiliating.

As they played, a whistle cut through the air. A group of men approached, led by a well-dressed guy who looked Cheng Shengnan up and down.

“Hey, beautiful. Not bad form—though I can tell you’re used to tennis. Why not join us for a real game?”

“Yeah, badminton’s for kids. Tennis is where it’s at.”

“Our friend Zhang here booked the courts. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Zhang’s ranked nationally. Celebrities and influencers beg for a chance to play with him.”

Zhang, a tall guy with a muscular build, smirked. “I’ve got a court reserved. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

In Korea, his family’s status might’ve been intimidating. But this was China—no chaebols held sway here.

“No thanks,” Cheng Shengnan said coolly, returning her focus to the game.

The lack of response only provoked them further.

“You ignoring us? Do you even know who Zhang is?”

“Girls would kill for his attention. You’re lucky he’s interested.”

“Play with him, get a shoutout on Douyin, and you’ll gain millions of followers overnight. That’s money in your pocket.”

They stepped onto the court, deliberately disrupting the game.

Zhang sauntered up, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “I’ve booked a table at Azure Bar tonight. Join me for drinks?”

“No. I don’t go to bars.” Cheng Shengnan’s tone was icy.

“Bitch, you think you’re too good—OW!”

One of the lackeys clutched his head as a racket smacked into him.

Shen Ge stepped forward, grinning. “You know, I never understood why protagonists in novels always run into trouble just buying groceries. Then I realized—when the female lead’s this stunning, bees and flies come swarming. Problem is, some of you flies think you’re bees.”

He’d been testing his abilities during the badminton game but found it awkward. Now, these idiots had handed him the perfect opportunity.

Some people assumed guys like this didn’t exist in modern society. Then the Tangshan incident proved them wrong.

Given his position, Shen Ge normally wouldn’t bother with such clowns. But unfortunately, his temper wasn’t that forgiving.

The fact that he hadn’t set them on fire already was a testament to his restraint.

“You little shit! Do you even know who owns this place?” one thug snarled.

“Nope. Should I ask who owns the bathroom before I take a piss, too?” Shen Ge smirked. “You said badminton’s for kids. So if I go over there and wipe the floor with you in tennis, how embarrassed would you be?”

“You? Beat Zhang? Dream on!”

Shen Ge tapped his racket against his palm. “How about we make it interesting? Fifty thousand a game?”

Zhang scoffed. “You got fifty grand?”

“Actually…” Shen Ge feigned hesitation. “Fifty’s too low. Let’s make it five million. One game, winner takes all.”

“You’ve got five million?” Zhang sneered.

“In cash? Not on me.” Shen Ge turned to Cheng Shengnan. “Hey, Cheng, didn’t you say you’d pay me five million to spend the day with you? Mind if I use that to bet?”

The ultimate taunt.

Cheng Shengnan wasn’t at fault for attracting unwanted attention, but Shen Ge had zero tolerance for entitled brats who thought money and status let them trample over others.

If he turned a blind eye to this, he might as well reincarnate in ancient times and get castrated.

“Sure,” Cheng Shengnan said calmly.

The group froze.

Wait, this chick’s loaded?

What they’d assumed was a rich guy hitting on a beauty had just flipped into a sugar mommy and her boy toy. Even Zhang’s expression twisted in disbelief.

Cheng Shengnan pulled out her phone, made a call, and then showed Zhang her bank balance. “You know ‘Rong’an Law Firm,’ right? I’ve got a notary on standby. If you’re serious, I’ll transfer the escrow.”

“…”

Damn. This woman meant business.

Zhang was cornered. Five million wasn’t pocket change, even for him. But backing down now would be social suicide—his million followers would vanish overnight.

“Fine!”

After the formalities, they moved to the tennis courts, where a group of female influencers was waiting. Clearly, Zhang hadn’t come alone—he’d brought his own entourage.

“Want me to handle this?” Cheng Shengnan murmured to Shen Ge.

“And let me look bad? I am the Wimbledon champ, remember?”

“The Wenjiang Supermarket Amateur Neighborhood Champion, right. Got it.”

“You’re not worried about the five million, are you? Don’t be. If I lose, it’s on me. If I win, we split it.”

“It’s not the money. I’m just—”

“Relax. My master’s Ryoma Echizen. I’ve got this.”

“…”

That made it worse.

Shen Ge strode onto the court while Zhang took his position, swinging his racket with practiced ease. His lackeys hadn’t been lying—Zhang was a nationally ranked player with a real passion for the sport.

Shen Ge stood in the left service box, tapping his racket against his shoulder before beckoning Zhang with a finger.

Zhang’s eyes narrowed. He tossed the ball high and smashed it with a bullet-like serve, the speed breathtaking.

But just as the ball seemed destined to land untouched, it stuttered midair—as if frozen for a split second—before Shen Ge casually returned it with a flick of his wrist.

Against Cheng Shengnan, he’d held back out of courtesy.

Against Zhang?

There were only two outcomes:

Kill him, or be killed by him.

And Zhang wasn’t capable of the latter.

Zhang barely had time to react before the ball rolled along the top of the net, then dropped onto his side with a soft plink.

“Point!” the umpire called.

Zhang stared. A walk-the-tightrope shot?

This guy could pull off that kind of technique?

Impossible!

But for Shen Ge, nothing was impossible. He might not know killer tennis, but he was a master of trait tennis.

With precise control over his supernatural abilities, he could make the ball do anything—walk the net, vanish midair, or even curve like a boomerang.