As a weirdo, I like being a Kamen Rider.

Chapter 67 Iceberg Sincerity

In the kitchen of Sato's noodle shop, the tonkotsu broth had been simmering on the stove all night. Wisps of milky steam rose, carrying a rich aroma of bones, spreading in the cool morning air. The old man carefully skimmed the last drop of oil from the surface with a long-handled ladle, then ladled out a full bowl, topped it with three slices of marbled char siu, a soft-boiled egg, a few perfectly blanched spinach leaves, and finally sprinkled on a handful of bright green scallions, before gently pushing it towards Lin Chen.

"Enjoy your meal at your leisure," the old man said gently.

Lin Chen nodded, picked up his chopsticks, and quietly began to eat.

This was his seventh morning at the noodle shop. He had thought he would return to eating alone, sleeping alone, and facing all dangers alone. But the lively atmosphere of Sato's noodle shop continued the rhythm of his life at the Hikari Photo Studio.

Xiaoxue came out of the inner room carrying a pink schoolbag. She was seven years old, with two pigtails and bright eyes like black grapes. She sat down on the chair opposite Lin Chen, resting her chin on her hands and secretly watching him. After watching for a while, she carefully took out a neatly folded piece of paper from her schoolbag, hesitated for a long time, and finally mustered up the courage to hand it over.

The paper had a crayon drawing of a tall man holding the hand of a little girl with a ponytail. Next to it, in crooked handwriting, was written: "Brother Chen, do your best today too."

Lin Chen put down his chopsticks and took the painting. Looking at the two little figures in the painting, a very subtle change flashed in his eyes.

He placed the painting together with the one Xiaoxue had given him before, and patted Xiaoxue's head.

He stood up and picked up his coat, which was draped over the back of the chair. He paused for a moment as he reached the door.

"I'm leaving," he said, his voice still calm, but with a hint of warmth compared to when he arrived.

"Brother Chen, let's find him again!" Xiaoxue waved her little hand and said in a soft voice.

The curtain fell with a "whoosh," blocking out the sunlight.

The corridors of G3 base were empty and quiet, with only Lin Chen's footsteps echoing. Just as he turned the corner, a dull, rhythmic thud came from the direction of the fighting room. "Bang, bang, bang," one blow after another.

Lin Chen followed the sound, leaned against the door frame of the fighting room, and watched quietly.

Hikawa Makoto was wearing a gray training suit, his back completely soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his body and outlining his taut muscles. He was practicing repeatedly on the sandbag, his movements precise and standard.

After practicing for an unknown amount of time, Hikawa Makoto finally stopped. He braced himself on his knees, bent over, and gasped for breath. Sweat dripped down his chin, spreading into small puddle stains on the floor.

"You're here early?" He looked up, saw Lin Chen at the door, and was clearly taken aback for a moment before smiling. "Why didn't you say anything when you got here?"

"Watching." Lin Chen walked into the fighting room, took off his jacket and casually draped it over the chair next to him, revealing his well-defined arms. "What time do you start every day?"

"Six o'clock."

Lin Chen nodded.

The two stood in the center of the field.

Bingchuan Cheng took a deep breath, looked at Lin Chen seriously, and said, "I want to see just how big the real gap is between us."

""

Are you sure?

"Sure."

Lin Chen didn't assume any fighting stance. He simply stood there quietly, feet together, arms hanging naturally at his sides, appearing completely unguarded. But at that moment, Bingchuan Cheng truly felt an unprecedented pressure. Lin Chen hadn't done anything, yet he was more helpless than any opponent who had already taken a fighting stance.

Bingchuan Cheng gritted his teeth, exerted force with his feet, and charged forward first.

His fist moved swiftly, aiming for Lin Chen's shoulder. However, just as the fist was about to touch Lin Chen's clothes, Lin Chen simply shifted his body slightly, easily dodging the attack. The force of the punch grazed past Lin Chen's clothes.

Bingchuan was startled and immediately changed his move, delivering a swift side kick towards Lin Chen's ribs.

This time, Lin Chen did not dodge.

"Bang--!"

A dull thud echoed through the fighting room. Bingchuan Cheng felt as if he had kicked a wall made of solid steel. Lin Chen didn't budge, but a piercing, dull pain shot through the back of his foot.

Bingchuan Cheng no longer held back. He used punches, kicks, elbows, and knees in rapid succession, his attacks as dense as a storm. Straight punches, hooks, elbow strikes, sweeping kicks, and knee strikes were executed with fluid transitions and tricky angles. This was the skill he had honed through countless training sessions and real sparring sessions.

But Lin Chen still did not launch an attack.

He was like a leaf swaying in a storm. No matter how fierce Bingchuan Cheng's attacks were, he could precisely dodge all attacks by turning to the side, backing away, or tilting his head with minimal effort. Occasionally, a fist would land on him, but it felt like hitting a steel plate, making Bingchuan Cheng's finger bones ache and his arms go numb.

His physical strength was being rapidly depleted. Hikawa Makoto's movements began to become distorted, and sweat mixed with blood from the cut at the corner of his mouth dripped down his chin.

He was gently pushed by Lin Chen again, and staggered back several steps before regaining his balance. He looked up and saw that Lin Chen was still standing in the same spot, without having moved an inch.

He gritted his teeth and charged forward again.

Bingchuan Cheng began to adjust his strategy, abandoning a direct assault and instead rapidly circling around Lin Chen, attempting to find a breakthrough. But he soon discovered an even more brutal truth: Lin Chen didn't even need to use his eyes.

He circled around to Lin Chen's blind spot and, with all his might, delivered a surprise punch to the back of Lin Chen's head.

Lin Chen didn't turn his head, but just tilted it slightly.

The fist grazed his earlobe and missed.

Hikawa Makoto finally understood. This person seemed to have grown eyes in the back of his head, able to see through all attacks.

His knees began to buckle, and his hands trembled slightly uncontrollably. But he didn't stop.

Lin Chen, who was watching from the sidelines, had already noticed that Bingchuan Cheng was exhausted and was about to say, "That's enough." But a moment before he spoke, he glanced into Bingchuan Cheng's eyes—those eyes, soaked with sweat, were still bright and piercing. There was no fear, no resentment in them, only a flame, stubbornly and recklessly burning.

Lin Chen swallowed the words that were about to come out. He decided not to call a halt for him.

Ten times, twenty times, thirty times.

After being pushed away for what seemed like the umpteenth time, Hikawa Makoto slipped, lost his balance, and was about to fall heavily to the ground.

Just then, Lin Chen reached out his hand.

He grabbed Hikawa Makoto's arm and pulled him back steadily.

This was the first time he had taken the initiative to touch Bingchuan Cheng.

Bingchuan Cheng was stunned. He could feel that Lin Chen's hand was cold, yet unusually strong.

"Take a five-minute break." Lin Chen released his grip, his tone still calm. "If you keep practicing like this, your arm will be ruined."

"Fifteen minutes." Hikawa Makoto was panting, his voice hoarse. "Not counting the time I spent training alone earlier—"

I only lasted fifteen minutes.

"That's pretty good." Lin Chen stood beside him, his breathing as steady as if nothing had happened. He knew his own condition well; his current physique was no weaker than those ordinary-level monsters from before, so he hadn't made a single move against Bingchuan Cheng.

After a moment of silence, Bingchuan Cheng asked again, "You—didn't open your eyes just now."

"Um.

""

Why?

Lin Chen didn't tell the truth about his special abilities, but simply tapped his temple with his fingertip: "Breathing, signs of shifting center of gravity, and the sound of muscle exertion are all a step ahead of the eyes. The eyes can lie, but the ears can't."

Bingchuan Cheng thought for a moment, then nodded vigorously. He etched those words deep into his heart.

He struggled to stand up, dusted himself off, and got back into a fighting stance.

"One more time."

Lin Chen raised an eyebrow slightly. "You can't beat me."

"I know." Hikawa Makoto's eyes were incredibly firm. "But I just want to know how many steps it would take to hit you even once."

Lin Chen was silent for a few seconds before speaking: "Lower body. Before each kick, your center of gravity will unconsciously shift one centimeter to the right. If the enemy can 'hear' it like I can, that's their chance to break your leg."

Bingchuan Cheng was stunned. He looked down at his bandaged instep, then suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing with an alarming light.

"----I see."

The next two hours became a period of solitary asceticism for Hikawa Makoto.

He was knocked down time and time again, and got up again and again. His arms and knees were scraped and bleeding, and his face was covered in a few abrasions. Sweat mixed with blood streamed down his face, making him look utterly wretched. But his eyes grew brighter and more determined. Each time he fell, he would linger on the ground for a few more seconds, carefully recalling Lin Chen's words, then get up, adjust his posture, and charge forward again.

Lin Chen broke his silence. He began to occasionally offer pointers—"Breathing too shallow," "Shifting your weight too early," "Your left shoulder is half an inch higher than your right." Each word was short and sharp, hitting the nail on the head. Bingchuan Cheng etched every word into his muscle memory.

By the time training ended, the setting sun had already streamed through the windows into the fighting room, casting two long shadows on the floor.

The two leaned against the wall to rest. Bingchuan Cheng unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and gulped down more than half of it in one go. The cool liquid slid down his throat, finally relaxing his nerves that had been tense for two hours.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "I held you back in yesterday's battle. I know better than anyone that the G3 armor has its limits. But if I were stronger, I wouldn't have let you face all the dangers alone."

Lin Chen also unscrewed his own bottle of water, took a sip, and didn't reply.

The silence lasted for a long time.

"I told you yesterday—you didn't hold us back."

Bingchuan Cheng suddenly turned his head.

Lin Chen's gaze fell on the setting sun outside the window, his voice still calm: "You were just doing what you could do—and you did it."

He paused, turned his head, and met Bingchuan Cheng's gaze.

"You are more persistent than most people I've ever met."

Bingchuan Cheng stared at him blankly. He had never imagined that Lin Chen would give such an evaluation.

After a moment of silence, he clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"—I will strive to become stronger. One day, I will catch up with you. Not as a burden to you, but as your partner."

Lin Chen looked into his eyes, seemingly trying to find a trace of bluff. But those eyes only held pure, unwavering determination.

He nodded very slightly.

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