Chapter Seven: The Girl Singing of Dream Chasers on the Street

In an unnoticed corner of the park at dusk.

Lin Chen closed his eyes, recalling the punches and kicks of Leng Dongliu from his dream, especially that final strike.

His body moved continuously—sometimes delivering a fierce punch, sometimes sweeping the air with a sharp leg whip, his steps light yet accompanied by significant body shifts. If someone were to watch his footwork closely, they might grow dizzy.

Though his punches and kicks carried a fierce and domineering power, Lin Chen’s brow furrowed deeper with each repetition. He kept practicing the same moves repeatedly, as if rewriting a stroke in calligraphy that never quite met his standards.

After roughly an hour of this relentless repetition, sweat drenched his forehead, his face flushed red, and his fists and feet trembled involuntarily. Finally, he stopped.

“This isn’t right! Why is it that even though I imitate every detail of Leng Dongliu’s punches and kicks, the effect is worlds apart!” Lin Chen said with frustration.

It felt like trying to replicate a master calligrapher’s work—every stroke seemingly identical, yet the difference was immense. One was a master, the other barely a novice.

“Well, this gap can’t be bridged overnight. The urgent task is to improve my physical condition. My current body is too weak.”

Feeling the weakness and soreness coursing through him, Lin Chen acknowledged, “Right now, my body is too frail—basically at the beginner’s stage of the ‘Sacred Demon Freedom Technique.’ However, thanks to my understanding and application of various martial arts moves, my combat ability is still far superior to ordinary people.”

The “Sacred Demon Freedom Technique” was a rare martial art Leng Dongliu had stumbled upon, the very source of his world-shattering strength.

It consisted of three levels, the first being body refinement. Lin Chen was currently at the entry level of this stage.

“The body refinement section of the Sacred Demon Freedom Technique can enhance physical strength rapidly, but it places a heavy burden on the body. Without sufficient energy replenishment, it could break the body instead. What I need now is to acquire the herbs to refine the Heavenly Treasure Pill. With that pill to supplement my energy, I can then improve my body strength through body refinement.”

Yet, as he pondered this, Lin Chen faced an awkward reality: he barely had a few hundred yuan left, not even covering next month’s living expenses.

He had no intention of returning to the modeling agency as an assistant—it held no meaning for him now.

But how was he to make money?

Lin Chen drew a blank. He couldn’t just roam the streets, randomly pitching himself to anyone who seemed troubled.

By the time he left the park, the sun had nearly set.

The streets were densely packed with people. Moonsea City was a bustling metropolis, a city that never slept, eternally alive. Every day, countless people arrived from all corners of the world, hoping to make a name for themselves in this land where every inch of space was precious, to return home in glory.

Passing beneath a pedestrian overpass, Lin Chen suddenly heard a girl singing.

Her voice was young, ethereal, and pure, evoking a comforting feeling, yet beneath its clarity lingered an aching sense of longing and sadness. She was singing an old song—Meng Feifei’s “Dream Chaser.”

Spring passes, autumn comes in this mortal world,
Who arranges fate in the heavens?
Silent as ice and snow on cold nights,
That brilliance hard to hide.
Look at me once,
Don’t let the mortal world guard your pillow,
Youth without regrets never dies,
Forever my beloved...

Curious, Lin Chen stepped closer to see the singer.

A girl sat on a low stool, strumming a guitar. Her head bowed, strands of dark hair veiled her face, revealing only a pale portion of her profile.

She wore simple clothes—faded jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt—and her figure appeared slender and delicate.

In front of her lay an open guitar case with a few scattered bills—five and ten yuan notes. Only a sparse handful of people stood listening, yet she sang with wholehearted devotion.

Lin Chen listened for a while, moved by her earnestness. Though untrained, her singing carried genuine emotion.

Dream chasers—there were countless such souls in this city, but how many truly saw their dreams come true? Most merely lived a transient dream.

When the song ended, Lin Chen withdrew ten yuan from his dwindling wallet and placed it in her guitar case. She looked up and smiled at him—a shy, reserved smile, her large eyes clear and sincere.

Seeing her face and smile, Lin Chen was reminded of his childhood hometown, where blue skies and white clouds remained untainted and pure.

She was about fifteen or sixteen years old. Her beauty was not as alluring as Su Xiran’s nor as stunning as Leng Hanyan’s, but it was a pure and unspoiled kind, like the innocent girl next door from childhood. Such beauty evoked a protective tenderness.

After a brief moment of daze, Lin Chen regained his composure, smiled back, and then turned away. No matter how beautiful she was, they were strangers—just two passing souls in a city where countless meetings and farewells happened daily.

Taking a few steps, Lin Chen suddenly heard a lewd voice laughing mockingly, “Haha, little sister, you’re so pretty—why bother earning these few five and ten-yuan notes here? Come with me tonight, and I’ll give you a few hundred. Much better than this!”

Lin Chen turned to see a group of men with dyed hair, looking like delinquent youths, standing before the girl. One of them, with shifty eyes, grinned lecherously at her.

The guitar case holding her money had been kicked aside.

The girl’s pale face showed fear. She timidly said, “No... sorry, I don’t want to go with you. Though it’s not much, I’m already satisfied with this money.”

The man curled his lips in disgust, glanced over her body, then fixed his gaze on her face, leering, “Haha, you’re satisfied with this? Then come with me, and I’ll ‘satisfy’ you every day, how about that?”

His companions laughed lewdly, echoing his vile words with lascivious expressions.

The few passersby who had been listening to the girl’s song saw these rough thugs arrive and quickly dispersed, clearly afraid of trouble.

The girl’s face flushed with anger. She tried to gather her things and leave, but one of the men snatched her guitar, laughing, “Little sister, don’t go yet. I’m still chatting with you. How about you come out with me tonight?”

“Give it back!” The girl, not used to confrontation and with a gentle disposition, was unsure how to respond. She tried to reclaim her guitar but was soon surrounded by the others.

Her eyes reddened with frustration, on the verge of tears.

The man called Brother Xiong chuckled slyly, “Why are you crying, little sister? Oh, your face is so tender and pretty—your crying makes my heart race. Are you mad at me? Come on, use your little soft hands to touch Brother’s face. No, better yet, hit Brother’s face.”

With that, he shamelessly brought his face close to hers, wearing a lecherous grin.

Suddenly, a hand appeared, delivering a sharp slap that sent Brother Xiong reeling, his head spinning!