Turning to look at Zhang Yu, Bai Zhenzhen said in surprise: "Are you sure?"
"Yu, don't be so quick to decide."
"Aiming for the Top Ten Elite Universities means going up against countless people in Songyang."
"You're not just saying that to show off, are you?"
Zhang Yu snapped: "Damn it... I'm being serious. You think I'm joking?"
Seeing the earnest look on his face, Bai Zhenzhen laughed. "Fine, let's say you really are aiming for the Top Ten."
"They gave you a month to think, right?"
"One month is the deadline they gave me too."
"For the next two weeks, focus on improving yourself. When the Dharma Tournament comes, I'll take you to meet some people."
"The Dharma Tournament?" Zhang Yu's heart stirred. The tournament he'd signed up for started this month, just two weeks away.
"Meet people at the tournament? Who?"
Bai Zhenzhen said mysteriously: "Maybe someone who can help us."
Damn riddle-speakers.
Pressing couldn't get more out of her, Zhang Yu had no choice but to throw all his energy into self-improvement. Whatever happened, the only thing he could truly grasp right now was his own strength.
...
In Martial Arts class.
"Dao arts are useless."
"Martial arts are where the real value lies."
"When you meet an opponent head-on, a refined mastery of martial arts is the most reliable thing in your hands — either you beat them to death, or you lie down and get beaten to death."
Listening to Lei Jun's speech, He Dayou rolled his eyes internally.
"Alright," Lei Jun said, "split into groups for practical sparring. He Dayou, you're with Zhang Yu."
"Ah?" He Dayou was stunned. He pointed at himself.
Lei Jun snorted. "What are you looking at? Still licking your monthly-exam wounds? Now I'm giving you a chance to learn from Zhang Yu. Are you unwilling?"
With the crushing weight of a poor martial record hanging over him, even He Dayou, son of a school board member, had no room to argue. Under the political correctness where a bad student's very breathing is wrong, he couldn't defy this in class.
Quietly he walked before Zhang Yu, thinking: *But I might not necessarily lose this time.*
Three straight losses. He Dayou didn't hold a grudge, but he did self-reflect. He'd watched the videos of those fights over and over, and shown them to his private combat tutor.
The verdict: Zhang Yu's Free Fighting had reached level 3. Once you gave him an opening, you'd get badly hurt. But his weakness was obvious — a desperate lack of practical combat experience.
So He Dayou had practiced counters. Take now: he didn't strike first, but went all-in on defense, waiting until his opponent grew impatient, then hit with the Little Tianxing Palm at an unguarded moment...
Blocking several of Zhang Yu's moves, He Dayou felt fine at first. But soon the punches came heavier and heavier until his arms ached and mana churned in his body.
Boom! His blocking arms were blasted open, and He Dayou was kicked flying, crashing to the ground. His mana surged in waves and he couldn't get up.
"Zhang Yu's Free Fighting is even stronger than last time?"
Lei Jun flashed to Zhang Yu's side. "Your Free Fighting is level 4 now?"
Zhang Yu, actually level 5, laughed awkwardly: "Mm, I just broke through yesterday."
He'd been deliberately holding back the power of his Free Fighting, but after He Dayou went full defense, Zhang Yu's relentless attacks spilled over — he lost control by a hair, pushing everything up to level 4.
Lei Jun burst out laughing. "You've got real talent in martial arts. Want to enter next month's Songyang City Martial Combat Tournament?"
Zhang Yu's eyes flickered: "Is there prize money?"
"Of course. First in the city pockets 50,000, plus access to expert-grade martial arts."
Zhang Yu thought: *The Dharma Tournament has prize money, and this one too.* If he could grab a few placements and cash, even without the student council's sponsorship, he'd have enough to cover expenses — maybe even accelerate his cultivation.
Seeing the longing on his face, Lei Jun said: "I've told you martial arts are useful. Fight well and you'll never be short of money. I'll register you, and bring you and Bai Zhenzhen along."
After Lei Jun left, Zhang Yu looked at He Dayou, still on the ground. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." He Dayou stood, cast a long look at Zhang Yu, then said: "I heard the student council summoned you yesterday?"
When Zhang Yu nodded, He Dayou smoothed over his anger. *No point holding a grudge; we're all campus assets.* Rubbing his chest, he consoled himself: *First-year combat means little anyway. Once I lay my foundation and start an expert-grade method, I'll crush people like Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen.*
Across the training ground, Bai Zhenzhen said impatiently: "Finished staring? Let's continue."
Qian Shen pulled his gaze back to her, feeling wave after wave of pressure. Against a 550-point subhuman, he'd crush them effortlessly. But facing a 651-point ace like Bai Zhenzhen, every move he made seemed read through; the moment they exchanged blows, he felt bound hand and foot, his combat power plummeting.
"I'm so many points below her. Old Huang really should have matched me against Zhang Yu, who's six points lower."
Zhang Yu glanced at the rich kids — He Dayou, Qian Shen — and a thought surfaced: what would these seemingly friendly rich students turn into once they learned he and Bai Zhenzhen were aiming for the Top Ten? Would they join forces against him and Zhenzhen?
Looking at how Qian Shen was being dominated, Zhang Yu mused: *That score-worshipping attitude, like poor kids have no way into the Top Ten — could it be an act?* He didn't think so. Qian Shen's purity didn't look fake. It couldn't be one of those "let the young master study, don't let him see the ugly world" scripts, could it? Zhang Yu shook his head, unable to settle it.
...
In Dao Arts class, the instructor looked approvingly at He Dayou: "This physical-examination charm is well written. Your understanding of the Great God of Vital Spring's charms is profound."
"It's only for you to practice," He Dayou said with all humility.
"Excessive modesty is pride," the instructor waved him off. "At this level in first year, you don't even need the school's first-year dao arts courses. Skip the class whenever you like — I'll count you present."
Basking in the envious gazes around him, He Dayou was modest once more. But the instructor turned: "Zhang Yu, Bai Zhenzhen, you two need to try harder. Being so lopsided does you no good. Come for extra lessons when you have time — I'll give you a twenty percent discount."
Neither could do anything but bow their heads and take the reprimand, hearts utterly flat. The cost-performance of extra charm lessons was far too low.
...
In the meditation room, the administrator Wei Xin's voice carried over: "Zhang Yu, time's almost up. Add more time?"
Zhang Yu, who'd earned the week's lowest zoning-out rate again, hesitated: "Add an hour."
With the Dharma Tournament closer, he decided to modestly speed up his mana cultivation. He drew a deep breath; inside his dantian, the Sea of Qi Spiritual Root trembled, and Spiritual Machine surged in from all directions, strand by strand refined into mana.
An hour later, watching him leave, Wei Xin sighed: "No wonder he's a Golden Core Disciple. That improvement in breathing efficiency is amazing. When will he sign up for Platinum though."
...
After school, on the rooftop, two figures clashed at high speed amid gusts of wind-and-thunder — Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen, sparring in earnest. Unlike in practical class, their private sparring let them go all out without fear of exposing trump cards.
Fists and feet flew. Zhang Yu's Free Fighting was more powerful, yet his body was a notch weaker than hers. She had mastered a basic high-school sword technique, threading sword-fingers through their exchanges, forcing the inexperienced Zhang Yu into a fluster.
"Yu, don't watch my hands. Watch my waist, hips, and shoulders to predict my moves."
...
At the stationery shop by the school gate, the boss pointed at this year's first-year ranking. "Zhang Yu, third in his grade, raised his score 70 points in a month — by buying my tranquilizers, painkillers, supplements, muscle builders." Gesturing at a bag of pill bottles, he told the Songyang students: "The Zhang Yu signature cultivation package. Now 10% off."
Zhang Yu, come to restock, stood at the door, watching that adult flap his gums for money, and felt once more the ugliness of the adult world.
Once the students left, he walked up: "So? Didn't I say I'm the campus celebrity, and my product placement works? Shouldn't you pay me more?"
The boss grumbled: "I haven't made back that batch of Nerve Supplement I gave you." He pointed at the gift bag. "Sold only one today."
Zhang Yu thought: *Everything you sell is generic junk, no cheaper than online.*
"And the body-forging drugs," the boss went on, "students say you're a Natural Body Forger, that you don't take injections."
Zhang Yu changed the subject: "It's just that I don't take enough of your drugs at school. Give me two more bottles of Nerve Supplement. I'll take them daily and the promotion will work better."
...
For five days, Zhang Yu threw all his focus into cultivation. That evening, while breathing on his bed, he felt a smile he couldn't hold back curl over his mouth.
After the final breathing cycle, his Zhou Tian Qi Gathering Method had reached level 10.
In that instant, his mana circulation surged like a mighty river, until his ears rang with a howling phantom sound. When the agitation settled, he felt his passive breathing had become more powerful, more responsive.
"At level 10, passive breathing already has the full efficiency of active breathing."
The smile widened. Even if he never actively breathed again, it was as if he was running the Zhou Tian Qi Gathering Method at every moment, refining mana constantly.
And after this hard training, his mana had risen to 13.3 — second in the entire grade.
A peculiar look crossed Zhang Yu's face. *I have astonishing potential and peerless discipline. Unsurprising I improve this fast. But why does Zhenzhen's pace seem to be accelerating too?*
*Could she have opened one too?*