Two streams of tears kept flowing from his eyes, and gradually he began to sob. Although “men do not easily shed tears,” at this moment he could no longer hold back. His crying grew louder and louder, until it became wailing sobs that startled the doctors and nurses in the hospital, all of whom looked toward the little boy in the ward. But no one came in. They had heard about what had happened to William Thompson, and felt deep pity for him.

A few days later, aside from his injuries having mostly healed, William Thompson completed the discharge procedures.

For a whole month, right up until winter break, William Thompson remained in a dazed, soulless state, going to school like a walking corpse and returning home the same way. The classmates who used to bully him now treated him like a plague, no longer picking on him, just keeping their distance and isolating him even more.

As for Brian Clark and those few delinquent students, they hadn’t dared come to school for over a month. They were afraid of running into William Thompson, feeling fear in their hearts for the first time. Even though William Thompson had no ability to threaten them, they still trembled inside. The way Helen Carter died made them even more afraid of seeing William Thompson and recalling what happened.

Back at home, William Thompson learned from his parents that the police had, for some reason, hastily closed the case on Helen Carter’s death, ruling it as an accidental fall with no one else present at the scene. William Thompson’s injuries were determined to be self-inflicted from a fall, though he was also suspected of pushing Helen Carter off the cliff. At the same time, all evidence linking Brian Clark and the others to the incident had completely disappeared.

“This must have been done by Brian Clark’s old man. He’s the police chief. I will have my revenge.” William Thompson’s face gradually twisted with rage, his teeth grinding so hard they creaked, his palms splitting open without him even noticing. The honest, good-natured boy he once was had vanished, gone with Helen Carter. The murderous aura radiating from him made William Thompson’s parents feel as if the person before them was not their son, but a demon filled with hatred and violence.

Just as William Thompson’s parents, alarmed by their son’s drastic change, were about to cry out in shock, William Thompson’s vicious aura suddenly vanished, as if nothing had happened. Only a faint, cold smile remained at the corner of his mouth. He turned and went back to his room as if nothing had occurred, picked up his homework notebook, and, just like at this time on any other day, began to study seriously, as if Helen Carter’s death had nothing to do with him.

Suddenly, William Thompson’s parents felt that the boy before them, so focused on his studies under the desk lamp, was no longer their son. The silhouette cast by the lamp seemed to reveal the shadow of a demon, a stranger. Their son had died along with Helen Carter.

How pitiful are the hearts of parents everywhere. William Thompson’s parents were deeply pained by their son’s transformation. As an ordinary family with no power or influence, they couldn’t afford to offend anyone. The parents would have preferred for William Thompson to have a good cry and let it all out, but he didn’t. His tears had long since dried up.

At dawn, William Thompson’s mother discovered that her son was no longer in his room. The quilt was folded neatly, but its owner was nowhere to be found.

In the park, there weren’t many people out exercising yet. Only a chubby figure was doing push-ups, panting heavily in a secluded corner.

“…Four hundred ninety-seven, four hundred ninety-eight, four hundred ninety-nine, five hundred.” The voice was unmistakably William Thompson’s. He forced himself to reach five hundred push-ups, and by the time he counted to five hundred, he was utterly exhausted, collapsing on the ground, gasping desperately for air. This was the first time in a week that he had managed to do five hundred push-ups in a row. It was hard to imagine that the chubby boy who used to get winded after just two steps could now unleash such astonishing potential.

After regaining a bit of strength, he got up from the ground and began doing high-knee jumps in place, working hard to regulate his breathing.

William Thompson had reflected for a long time. He knew very well why he had always been bullied: he was too focused on studying, physically much weaker than others, and had put on a lot of fat. In these times, only those with the strongest fists are in charge. He needed to train harder and learn to fight, or else he would never be able to stand up to the much skinnier Brian Clark. That was the main reason he was always knocked to the ground by a few smaller kids.

No one knew where William Thompson had found so many military and sports books, but he had devised a set of physical training plans tailored to himself. Despite the limitations of his facilities and environment, the intensity was no less than that of special forces training. At this moment, he was focused solely on revenge. If he wasn’t afraid of death, why would he fear exhaustion?

Time and again, he pushed himself beyond what any ordinary student could endure. Vomiting, shortness of breath, chest tightness, and other symptoms of exceeding the human body’s limits left William Thompson covered in injuries. For the first time, he began to hate his own frail body. To maintain the effectiveness of his training, he kept increasing the amount of exercise.

Every day: 100 three-finger push-ups, 10,000 meters of cross-country running with a 50-kilogram load, 100 one-arm pull-ups, 200 squats, 400 rounds of wall punching and palm strikes… He forced himself to persist with sheer willpower, and his body, on the verge of collapse, miraculously endured step by step. Even though he had no athletic talent or potential, William Thompson gritted his teeth and completed each stage of training, unleashing a potential that even he found hard to believe.