A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

The old man didn't say anything.

The flower girl stopped and looked over.

A morning breeze rustled the leaves of the plane trees lining the Bund Avenue, and one leaf swirled down to Chen Che's feet.

"Just kidding with Dad, nothing more." Chen Che put the bowl down, took out a few coins and placed them on the table. "The taste was so-so, but the price was reasonable. I'm leaving."

He glanced at the flower girl beside him, turned around and walked back, his steps leisurely, as if he had just casually chatted about everyday things.

Behind him, he could feel some gazes like fine needles, gently but firmly pricking his back, until they disappeared as he walked through the revolving door.

Chen Che stood in the lobby, looking out through the glass door.

The old man bent down to tidy up the dishes, while the white orchids in the flower girl's bamboo basket trembled slightly in the morning light, just as they had before.

Chen Che memorized the faces of these people and got on the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened, Chen San was standing at the door, looking rather unwell.

"Young Master, why didn't you wake me up this morning?" He lowered his voice. "I just glanced out the window and saw a few new faces downstairs these past few days. They're probably keeping watch."

"I saw it." Chen Che walked past him and went into the room. "Third Brother, do me a favor."

"Please speak."

Chen Che walked to the window, pulled the curtains open a crack, and looked at the small figures downstairs: "Go find Manager Zhao and check who usually manages these stalls in front of the restaurant. Find out and come back to tell me."

Chen San nodded and was about to turn around when Chen Che called him back.

"Also," Chen Che turned around, a cryptic smile in his eyes, "investigate that old man who sells tofu pudding, find out who else is in his family. Ideally, find out if he owes anyone any debts, or if any of his sons or daughters work for someone else."

Chen San immediately understood, nodded, and quickly went out the door.

The room fell silent.

Chen Che stood by the window, watching the sky over the Bund gradually brighten and the number of ships increasing on the Huangpu River.

A river breeze blew by, carrying the coolness of early autumn and the fishy smell of the water.

He suddenly remembered the faint unease he felt last night by the river, looking at the fragmented moonlight and the unfathomable depths of the river.

But so what?

The dock banquet is in four days, and almost all the necessary arrangements have been completed.

Chen Che was alone in the room. He picked up the phone and asked the operator to connect him to a number:

"It's me. I've had a few more people watching me these past few days, were you one of them?"

......

"I understand. Everything has been arranged for your wife and children; they will be temporarily sent to Southeast Asia tomorrow."

......

"What? He's not coming?"

......

"Where?"

......

"that's all!"

Chen Che hung up the phone, carefully sorted out his thoughts in his mind, then changed into his workout clothes and went into the gym.

Chen Che took off his shirt and walked first toward the adjustable Olympic barbell set.

Last time, 200 kilograms was more than enough, but this time, after breaking through the "marrow cleansing" stage, Chen Che directly added weight to 400 kilograms, which is 800 jin.

Take a deep breath, grip the barbell tightly with both hands, tense up, feel your back and waist like steel plates, and firmly plant your lower body in the Yin-Yang stance.

With a deep exhale, the barbell was lifted steadily off the ground and overhead. When it was lowered, a dull, solid "thump" echoed across the floor.

Feeling a bit strained, Chen Che didn't want to push himself too hard, so he put down the barbell and went to the squat rack.

His basic martial art is the "Wind God's Guidance," and he is very confident in the strength and stability of his lower limbs, so he directly increased it to 500 kilograms.

The heaviest cast iron plates weighed forty kilograms each, and Chen Che added more than ten of them. The heavy lumps of iron hung at both ends, causing even the all-metal squat rack to bend slightly.

Chen Che looked straight at himself in the mirror, bent his hips and squatted down like a squatting stance. When his lower legs formed a right angle with the ground, he pushed off without hesitation, his movements clean, crisp, and rhythmic.

300 kg clean and jerk, 500 kg squat, followed by bench press.

Chen Cheping lay on the slanted legboard, starting with 300 kilograms and gradually increasing to 400 kilograms.

After pushing ten times, I still had plenty of control over my arms.

Finally, Chen Che went to the dumbbell area, selected a pair of dumbbells each weighing 200 kilograms, and alternated bending his arms and lifting them 20 times.

Sweat soaked through his underwear, dripping onto the carpet and leaving dark stains.

After half an hour of testing, Chen Che's breathing became rapid, and his muscles swelled and trembled due to blood engorgement.

Sweat streamed down my forehead, stinging slightly as it seeped into my eyes.

Chen Che lifted the protective ropes around the ring and stepped into the center of the ring, holding a tactical baton in each hand, and began the basic training of "one, two, three".

Sweat trickled down his back, leaving fine water stains on the ring.

The tactical baton in his hand made a whistling sound as it pierced the air, thrusting and retracting, blocking and parrying, the movements gradually increasing in speed until only two blurry afterimages remained.

472

473

474

He counted silently in his mind, but his breathing remained steady.

On the five hundredth thrust, Chen Che suddenly changed his stance, sweeping the staff horizontally with his left hand and thrusting straight with his right, twisting his waist and hips before retracting his stance in one smooth motion.

The wind suddenly stopped.

He put away his stick and stood up, his chest rising and falling slightly.

In the full-length mirror in the corner of the gym, a young man with his upper body bare was reflected. His muscles were sculpted with a smooth, chiseled line, yet they did not appear clumsy. Each muscle was perfectly positioned on his bones, like a lurking leopard, ready to pounce and strike at any moment.

Chen Che looked at himself in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction.

"Young Master."

Chen San's voice rang out from outside the door, tinged with a cautious probing.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Chen San strode in.

"Everything you requested has been arranged."

"Okay, Third Brother, come up here. It's been a long time since we've exchanged a few blows," Chen Che said. "It's a deal, this time you're going to go all out."

"I've already 'washed my marrow,' so if Third Brother doesn't show his true skills, I'm afraid I'll embarrass him," Chen Che said with a grin, trying to provoke him.

Chen San stood at the door, paused slightly upon hearing this, and then laughed.

That smile carried a hint of helplessness, a hint of relief, and a touch of something only martial artists could understand.

"Young Master," Chen San said, closing the door behind him and taking off his coat as he walked onto the stage, "Now I'll get my weapons."

Chen Che swung the tactical baton in mid-air, and with a "whoosh!" the three nested alloy tubes instantly locked into a straight short baton.

He stretched his shoulders and laughed, "Third Brother, I couldn't be happier!"

Chen San draped his jacket over the dumbbell rack, revealing a sharp black outfit. He had no excess fat on his body, and his muscles were taut like a fully drawn bow.

The short sword was slanted into the scabbard hanging next to his ribs.

He jumped onto the ring: "This time I'm really going to go all out."

Chen San's voice was still reverberating in the air when he left a trail of afterimages, rushing to Chen Che's side like a black lightning bolt.