Chapter 19: Morning Training Is… Human?

At precisely four in the morning, Xin Hai City lay steeped in its false tranquility.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep—!!!

The shrill alarm shattered the dead silence of Room 703.

The black-haired, black-eyed young man on the bed opened his eyes a heartbeat late—sharp, alert.
This time Lin Yu didn’t grope for the “snooze” button that bought five more minutes of half-dead comfort.
Instead, he killed the alarm with a single, decisive tap.

He sat up slowly without turning on the lights.
By the distant neon bleeding through the curtains, he stared at his hands—unconsciously clenched, tense.
He drew a long breath. The air still tasted of smoke, blood, and ash from that night’s battle.

Without hesitation, he swung his legs off the bed, padded into the cramped bathroom, and splashed icy tap water over his face until his sleep-starved brain buzzed awake.

His brand-new Huawei Mate 90 buzzed on the nightstand.

A notification popped up—from a group he least wanted to see.

[B7 Building Neighborhood Mutual Aid (A Loving Family) (213)]

Lin Yu’s brows twitched. He tapped the chat open.

Right after the glaring red @All Members tag came the one name he dreaded.

[B7 Building Dorm Manager – Sister Liu]: @All Members! @All Members! Especially Room 703’s little Lin! @703 Little Lin! That black garbage bag outside your door has been sitting there two days! The stench is reaching the stairwell! How many times have I told you—trash must be cleared daily! DAILY! The city’s civilized sanitation inspection is coming. If B7 loses points because of you, can you shoulder that responsibility?!

[502 – Brother Zhang Wants to Change Jobs]: Liu-jie, it’s just after four a.m.… please don’t shout, my wife has work early tomorrow…

[901 – Xiao Li]: Exactly… and lately, that cute guy in 703, no idea what he’s up to, always going out at weird hours, never even takes the trash down.

[B7 Building Dorm Manager – Sister Liu]: @901 Xiao Li Don’t even get me started! This kid’s been acting strange! Used to be dirt poor, now suddenly flush with cash! New phone, and those shoes—I looked them up on [Taiyi], over a thousand yuan! I’m telling you, kids these days… better not be earning money in crooked ways!

Lin Yu’s temples throbbed.

He clawed at his hair, then typed a pitiful, deferential reply:

[703 – Lin Yu Wants to Get Rich]: Sorry Liu-jie! Sorry neighbors! I overslept! I’ll take it out right now! Really sorry!!

He quit the group the instant he sent it—out of sight, out of mind.

Turning toward the bulging garbage bag by his door—the incriminating “evidence”—he sighed.

He stepped to the center of the room, inhaled deeply, and pressed the Gray Crystal brooch pinned to his chest.

“Activate.”

A pink light flared. No searing pain this time, only a disturbing sensation of being peeled apart—
as if his body were fed through some alien machine.

In the mirror, Lin Yu—male, lean, tired—unraveled against all reason.

His height shrank. Bones creaked. Shoulders narrowed. His Adam’s apple dissolved.

And in its place, a grotesque blossoming:

Porcelain skin. A narrow waist. Silken hair. Two heavy, jarring lumps pressing against his chest.

The light faded.

The twenty-six-year-old salaryman vanished.
A girl of fifteen or sixteen stared back.

“…Disgusting.”

The doll-like face stayed blank as she murmured.
She lifted a slender “magical girl” hand to her cheek—but the voice that emerged was Lin Yu’s own low, hoarse, masculine soul.

At four-thirty a.m., the transformed “girl” crept out, clutching the reeking garbage bag in one hand and an empty backpack for cover.

The chill hit at once.
The dawn wind knifed across bare, smooth legs, and Lin Yu shuddered—not from cold, but sheer humiliation.

He looked down. The blue sailor-style school uniform clung to him, the pleated skirt cut scandalously mid-thigh.
It was only a school outfit, yet on him it branded shame.

Another gust lifted the hem. White skin flashed.

Shit!
He slapped the skirt down, stiff and awkward.
Only the empty corridor offered a shred of comfort, but the disgust gnawed bone-deep.

His dainty fingers gripped the fabric until his knuckles whitened.

…Vile.

Every movement screamed wrongness.
Every cell rejected this shell.
He was a monster stuffed into a girl’s body—grotesque, obscene.

He staggered into the elevator, praying for no witnesses.

The doors opened. Empty. Relief.

Just as they began to close—

A calloused, work-worn hand shot in, prying them apart.

The doors screeched open.

Lin Yu nearly leapt out of his skin.

Dorm Manager Liu-jie: faded floral pajamas, cheap perm frizzing, a bag of trash in hand.
The air pressure dropped like a storm front.

f*ck!

Heart hammering, he ducked his head, hair shielding his face.
Please, God, don’t let her notice me.

Impossible.
In the tiny lift, his “stranger’s” presence blazed like a flare.

“Eh?” Her radar eyes locked instantly.

She pressed the button for the first floor, then crossed her arms, examining him head to toe.

“Little missy, never seen you before. What floor you live on?”
Her gaze flicked to his garbage bag—bulging, tied in a crude knot, unmistakably familiar.
“Say… doesn’t that look exactly like the bag outside 703?”

“Uh…”

Lin Yu’s brain fired on overdrive. He ducked lower, clutching his skirt hem in a perfect show of shyness.

At last, in a mosquito-thin falsetto, he stammered:

“H-hello, Auntie… I-I’m Room 703’s Lin Yu-gege’s… cousin… came from the countryside… just staying a few days…”

“Cousin?” She loomed closer, reeking of cheap shampoo and kitchen oil.
“Funny. Lin never mentioned a cousin this pretty.”

Questions spilled like bullets:
“What’s your name? What school? Still in high school, right? Which one? Why out so early with garbage? Where’s your cousin? Why isn’t he out today? And—”

“Ah…” Sweat soaked his back.

Ding! Salvation—the first floor.

He bolted, blurting the universal student excuse:

“S-sorry Auntie! O-our school has early self-study! I’m gonna be late! Bye!!”

He hurled the bag into the outside bin and sprinted into the pre-dawn dark without looking back.

Behind him, Liu-jie’s voice thundered:
“Eh! What’s with kids these days! Run off like I’m some kidnapper—honestly, impossible to understand!”

4:58 a.m.

Lin Yu dragged his unwanted girl-body into Training Ground C-3, lungs screaming.

A voice like ice met him.
“Two minutes early.”

Chen Bing was already there, warm-up complete.
She stood in sleek black athletic gear, straight as a spear, eyes on the blood-red timer.

“At least you still have a human’s sense of time. Not just a slab of rotting meat. Good.”

So damn fierce… Lin Yu thought bitterly, but kept his face blank, breath ragged yet disciplined.

“I’ve read your file.” She turned, eyes like scalpels raking his girl-form.
“Frankly? Abysmal. Aside from your psionic affinity, every score—fitness, reflexes, mental resilience—sets a new record low for C-District recruits in three years.”

Flat. Merciless.

“In simple words: this body of yours is trash.”

“…Ah.”

His pride scraped raw. He bit his lip, silent.

“But,” she continued, “since Ying—Obsidian—gave you two months, she must see value even in this heap of garbage.”

Her eyes sharpened, pressure slamming down like a wall. Lin Yu stiffened.

“From today, for one month, your body belongs to me.

“I won’t waste time on fancy tricks. I will do one thing—
smelt this trash down, hammer it into at least a usable shield.

“Now!”

Her bark shook the hall.

“Warm-up: twenty kilometers, weighted run! Begin!”

She hurled him two heavy training braces. Red characters branded on them: Huaxia Heavy Industries.

Knew it! Of course this torture device is state-enterprise tech!

The moment he strapped them on, his legs buckled under the crushing weight.

“Pathetic,” Chen Bing sneered, pointing to the endless track.
“Run. Fail to finish on time, no lunch.”

And so began Lin Yu’s first day in hell.

Twenty kilometers stretched into eternity.
His lungs burned molten, every breath tasting of rust and blood.
At ten kilometers he broke, begging for rest.

“You may rest,” Chen Bing said evenly.

Hope flickered.

Then she added, “Lie here till tomorrow. I’ll sign your resignation myself. Your choice.”

f*ck!!!

Rage fueled his legs. He staggered onward.

For four hours he ran, until at last he collapsed across the finish line like a dead fish, soul half-departed.

Chen Bing’s voice fell like ice water:
“Warm-up complete.”

Warm-up?! You call twenty kilometers of death march ‘warm-up’?!!

He silently screamed.

She tossed him a bottle of electrolyte water. He gulped it like nectar.

“Next,” she said, chin jerking toward a fresh obstacle course bristling with beams, nets, and bars.
“Agility and coordination. Three minutes. Every second over—one dish off your lunch.”

The whistle blew.

For an hour, Lin Yu displayed the pinnacle of human clumsiness: slipping, tripping, finally dangling upside-down by his skirt on a laser gate.

“…Utterly useless,” Chen Bing muttered, half-disgusted. “Enemies won’t stop attacking just because your skirt flew up. Forget shame. Is that worth more than your life? Enough. Down. Final lesson—combat sparring.”

She hit the stop switch. Lin Yu crashed down, dazed.

“Attack me,” she ordered. “With all you have.”

“B-but, senpai—you’re not even transformed…”

“To deal with you?” Her lips curled cruelly. “Necessary?”

The insult lit his last ember of pride.

Damn it! Who are you looking down on?!

He roared, gathered all remaining strength, and launched.

He never even saw her move.

A shift, a tug at his side—
BAM!

The floor rose to meet him.

“Speed decent. Balance nonexistent. Again.”

BAM!

“Again.”

BAM!

Half an hour later, only a torn JK uniform and a bruised, foaming Lin Yu remained sprawled like a corpse.

Chen Bing, breathing steady, checked the timer and nodded.

“Not bad. Ten minutes longer than I expected. Morning training ends here.”

…It’s… over?

To Lin Yu, it was the sound of angels singing.