Chapter 10: Ability Assessment

"Fan, you didn’t go out today?”

Chen Fan steadied himself, realizing he was already seated at the dinner table. That nap had really lasted a while.

“No, Mom. The weather was too hot. I came back to sleep after playing for a bit.” Chen Fan didn’t dare look his parents in the eye, afraid they’d sense something amiss, and simply buried his head in his meal.

“Fan, you’re not a kid anymore. Now that you’re in college, there are some things you should start to experience—don’t just focus on your studies all the time.”

Hearing his father’s earnest tone, Chen Fan could already guess where this was going. Weren’t you the one who forbade early romances? And now you’re dropping hints left and right.

“Let it happen naturally. These things can’t be rushed.” Chen Fan lifted his head and saw his dad staring directly at him, so he quickly dropped his gaze again.

His father set down his chopsticks and said sternly, “When it comes to relationships, sometimes you have to take the initiative. University is your last stretch of youthful days, and often the purest kind of love is found there. Young people should cherish the opportunity.”

Glancing at his mother’s expression, Chen Fan pursed his lips and mumbled an acknowledgment.

“These two, acting in such silent agreement, are more anxious than I am.”

Back in his room, Chen Fan tidied up the Werewolf game cards he hadn’t put away last night, shoving them deep into an inconspicuous corner of the drawer. If his parents happened to find those while cleaning, it would be disastrous—enough to give them a heart attack.

He looked out the window. The sky was ablaze with red, and as the sun slowly sank below the horizon, Chen Fan felt his body growing hotter and hotter.

“At this rate, my body heat could probably cook an egg.” Sitting in the air-conditioned room, Chen Fan rubbed some water on his hands, only to watch it instantly vaporize into white mist.

“This is literally scorching.”

The sensation was as if he were soaking in a dry sauna, but Chen Fan didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Instead, he sensed a powerful energy surging inside him, almost to the point of overflowing.

“Might as well test my abilities—nothing else to do anyway.” He set down the water cup, now warm from his touch, and headed out alone.

There was a park right beside Chen Fan’s home, where people often jogged at night. He chose a straight stretch of concrete path to test his speed first.

“Should’ve worn sneakers,” he realized, glancing down to see he’d slipped on his sandals out of habit.

“Whatever, let’s just give it a try. Three, two, one… Go.” Chen Fan counted down in his mind, then shot forward in a blur.

At the finish, he stopped the timer: just over ten seconds for nearly a hundred meters.

“If I was properly trained and had the right gear, maybe I could easily beat Bolt—leave him eating my dust.”

Chen Fan was feeling smug. Just imagining himself, a young Chinese guy, dominating the track and field events at the next Olympics, sweeping all the golds, was exhilarating.

“Wait, no, the competitions are all during the day. My abilities wouldn’t work then.” The realization hit him, and his excitement deflated by half.

Next, he tried endurance. Normally, physically inept as he was, Chen Fan would be out of breath after 200 meters. But now, with the werewolf power boosting him, he ran three laps around the park’s outer loop without so much as a pant.

He stopped and put a hand over his heart; after all that exertion, his pulse was steady as a rock.

He looked at a nearby tree, raised his fists, and yelled, “Hallelujah!”

His iron fist struck out, then he followed up with a spinning back kick that landed on the tree with a loud crack. The gnarled old tree shed a rain of leaves and several dead branches, and the rebound nearly pushed Chen Fan back several steps.

“My strength’s improved too—not bad. I could play a gangster boss now, though I still need to work on my aura.” Chen Fan inspected himself, a surge of pride welling up inside.

“Dammit, which punk is making all this racket? That hurt!”

Chen Fan tensed, staring into the bushes. Someone was actually in there?

“Better run before they come out.” Without looking, he bolted in a random direction.

By the time his racing heart calmed, he found himself in the heart of the city—at least a kilometer from home.

“It’s summer, the grass is full of mosquitoes, what’s someone doing in there? Maybe a gardener? But they should’ve gone home by now.” Chen Fan couldn’t figure it out, but he kept walking away.

Compared to the new city center, the old district looked much shabbier. Street vendors hawked their wares everywhere, food stall tables spilled onto the sidewalks, cars were parked haphazardly, and the main landmark was a ten-year-old department store.

“Lamb skewers, beef skewers, chicken skewers—three yuan each, three for ten! Come and have a look!”

Smoke billowed thickly as Chen Fan pinched his nose and wandered the alleys. It was still early, so he decided to stroll a bit before heading home. He hadn’t brought any money, so all he could do was look.

“Achoo!” A sudden sneeze caught him off guard, and the bald man beside him was unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire.

Chen Fan shot a sideways glance, sensed trouble, and immediately took off running.

“Hey, come drink with us!”

The bald man was burly, wearing a white tank top and a gold chain around his neck—clearly a neighborhood boss. He downed his beer, foam and all, in one go.

“Is it raining?” The bald man reached up and touched his head. Wet.

“Boss, some punk sneezed on you and ran off,” reported one of his lackeys, having witnessed the whole thing.

The boss slammed down his plastic cup, grabbed an empty beer bottle, and shouted, “Find that guy! Don’t let him get away—I’ll teach him a lesson. You remember his face?”

“Of course, boss.” The lackey slapped a hundred-yuan bill under his bottle, called for the check, and led the crew in pursuit.

“If anyone’s to blame, it’s that barbecue vendor. Charcoal’s all ashen but he won’t add new—just lets it burn out.” Chen Fan jogged until he ducked into the department store to hide. With the crowds and the others still drinking, he figured he’d be safe.

He circled around and slipped out another exit, careful not to retrace his steps in case they were waiting.

“This smoke is toxic—my nose feels like a clown’s.” Chen Fan pinched his nose, staying alert to anything unusual around him.

He made his way back to the familiar park, taking the same path as before. There he saw a man and a woman, their unsteady steps making them look drunk—the woman in a long dress, the man fumbling to fasten his belt.

Curious, Chen Fan tried to get a better look, but as soon as they noticed someone approaching, their movements grew swift and efficient. The woman tidied her messy hair, the man yanked up his trousers, and Chen Fan faintly heard an “Ouch!” from a distance.

“How strange.”