For the next six months after joining kindergarten, my daily routine was set in stone.
I would wake up at 8 AM, attend kindergarten from 9 AM to 1 PM, and spend most of my time talking with Mo Fan, Mu Bai, and the other kids.
I naturally slipped into the role of a small leader among them.
Occasionally, I would ask them to bring any books they could find from their homes to kindergarten.
It was an easy way to increase the collection of knowledge stored in my mind using my eidetic memory.
After coming home and finishing lunch, I would meditate for one hour daily.
I don’t know exactly how, but the System was definitely helping me improve my spiritual strength when meditating.
I knew from the novels that having high spiritual strength meant I could spend more time in meditation and cast magic faster in the future.
So, I strictly meditated every day.
Even though the progress bar moved agonizingly slowly, it was still progress.
I also noticed that whenever I performed a repetitive action, the System’s progress bar would slowly inch forward.
I had tried looking for martial arts schools in Bo City to learn how to fight, but I couldn’t find any, so I eventually gave up the search.
When the clock struck 4 PM, Mo Fan would visit my home to play, and we would roam the streets of Bo City.
To him, it was just playing outside.
But for me, aided by my eidetic memory, I was actively building a cognitive map of the city in my mind.
I was charting escape routes just in case the disaster fell while I was still trapped here.
By 7 PM, I would head home, eat dinner, do some light exercise, wash up, and go to sleep.
This routine continued seamlessly for six months.
Then, one day, Mo Fan and I were strolling around the streets.
I had just stepped away to purchase some groceries for my mom when three nine year old boys approached Mo Fan.
They started fighting before I could even get back to him.
So, I did what any good friend would do: I dropped the groceries and jumped in.
Even though I was physically only five years old, I had done a massive amount of secret exercising.
As I neared one of the older kids who was lifting his leg to kick Mo Fan, I threw a straight punch right into his cheek.
The punch connected, breaking his momentum.
He stumbled over his own feet and fell hard to the ground.
Without pausing, I spun and kicked the second kid right in the side of his abdomen.
He screamed, clutching his stomach as he dropped.
The last kid, who looked like the leader of this small group, was still throwing punches at Mo Fan, completely ignoring me.
I didn’t hesitate; I delivered a ruthless kick straight to his balls.
He stumbled and groaned as his life had just ended.
Seeing them down, Mo Fan didn’t hold back.
Without caring about the consequences, he started kicking and throwing wild punches at the three boys groaning on the dirt.
I quickly grabbed my scattered groceries from the ground and started physically dragging Mo Fan away toward my house before things escalated further.
When we got home, my mom saw Mo Fan’s disheveled appearance.
She assumed we had just been playing too rough and thankfully didn’t ask any questions.
Once we were alone in my room, I finally asked, “What happened?
Why were you fighting with them?”
“They are my neighbors,” Mo Fan grumbled, wiping dirt off his face.
“They don’t like me because I always act as the leader of our neighborhood group, so they wanted to gang up on me.”
After hearing that, I finally understood why they had waited to ambush him exactly when I left to fetch the groceries.
It was a calculated strike.
We spent some time talking about the fight, bragging about how awesome we were, before Mo Fan tried to leave for his house.
Since his dad worked as a driver for the Mu family mansion, he always got home late.
After some quick thinking, I asked my mom to drop him off in our car to ensure those kids didn’t ambush him again, and she happily agreed.
After he left, I went back to my room and checked my System.
A new notification was hovering in the translucent blue window:
> [Martial Arts: Level 1]
Finally, it seemed I had started on the martial path.
I had never actually fought anyone in my entire previous life.
I was always the “good boy.” Even though I had gotten into some petty arguments back then, it had never ended in a physical brawl.
This was my very first real fight, and my first absolute win, even if my opponents were just three obnoxious nine year olds.
After the fight with the three kids, my life didn’t change much, but one new thing was added to my routine: I started practicing punches and kicks to improve my progress in the [Martial Arts] skill.
For three months, no major events took place.
But one day, while reading a newspaper published by the Magic Association, my mind suddenly went blank, and a massive headache spun inside my skull.
Plastered across the front page in massive headlines, alongside his picture, were the words: “Wen Tai, The Saint Son of the Parthenon, Executed.”
After reading the news, I realized I needed to mentally prepare for the arrival of Ye Chang Salan of the Black Vatican, who would be moving to Bo City in just a few months.
If I slipped up even slightly when I met her, I would end up as food for a Dark Beast Monster.
I couldn’t find the full story of what happened in the paper, but it stated that the “Holy Judgment Court” had accused Wen Tai of utilizing Forbidden Curses and colluding with the Dark Plane, and the judges had found him guilty.
When I finally calmed down, a System alert rang in my ears:
> [Spiritual Strength Level has leveled up: Lv.
2 —> Lv.
3]
Well, I guessed I could control my expressions better with improved spiritual strength.
It seemed that surviving traumatizing realizations and calming myself down was a valid way to improve it, according to the System.
Realizing the timeline of Wen Tai’s death reminded me exactly how much I needed to improve if I didn’t want to die halfway through this story.
One month passed.
The shockwaves of the execution faded from the daily news.
I doubled my efforts in grinding my skills, cutting my sleep schedule from ten hours down to eight hours daily.
I also turned six this year.
I tried asking my parents for a laptop as a birthday gift, which they rejected without batting an eye.
The cost of a magically powered laptop was higher than five months of my dad’s income combined.
The end of kindergarten was nearing.
On the final day, our parents were present to watch us receive our Kindergarten Diplomas.
I had no idea where anyone would ever use a kindergarten diploma or why they were even giving them out, but I had to be present to deliver a speech because I had taken first place in the course.
When the boring speeches by the guest speakers, none of whom were actual magicians, finally finished, I was called to the dais.
I hadn’t prepared anything, but for my parents’ sake, I walked up to the podium while all my henchmen…
no, friends, started clapping and shouting.
I took the microphone and started my speech.
“I know a lot of people are bored by all the speeches so far, so I don’t want to take up too much time.
The only thing I want to say is that today is a very special day because we are graduating.
Thank you to the teachers for helping us every day.
We are big kids now, and we are ready for first grade.
Thank you, and congratulations to my class!”
Delivering my brief speech and taking my diploma, I walked down the stage amid the roaring applause of my classmates.
And just like that, I completed my kindergarten education in this new magical world.
To be continued…