Now that the Zhou Tian Qi Gathering Method had reached level 10, Zhang Yu planned to switch his Feather Book's Focus and pick another method to level up.
And after deciding not to sign the student council's contract — resolving instead to break into the Top Ten Elite Universities — he'd figured some things out.
First, without the council's investment, his resources would be more limited. But the pressure of making the Top Ten would only grow far heavier. Fewer resources, heavier pressure.
So from now on, he'd have to budget his resources carefully, squeezing the fastest growth into every unit of time. To do that, he had to play to his strengths — absolute discipline and astonishing potential. Simply put, practice stronger, harder methods.
As master of the Feather Book, given the same effort, the stronger the method, the better the result. It was like one Zhang Yu grinding the Dahuang Prison Heavenly Finger while another grinds the Basic Long Palm — hearing the names tells you which has a future.
*But this isn't something you can just do.* The stronger a method, the higher its threshold. A dog paddle anyone — even a dog — can learn, but synchronized swimming isn't for everyone.
Among expert-grade methods, even the Heavenly Martial Heart Refining Art in Zhang Yu's hands had failed to meet its level-3 Dao Heart requirement so far. So the first condition was meeting the thresholds.
Zhang Yu's gaze swept his phone screen, over the requirements each method set for its cultivator.
"Dao Heart! Mana!"
Just as the high-school teachers always said, Dao Heart and mana were the foundation of the immortal path. Dao Heart level represented a cultivator's control and capacity over the Dao's power. Mana was the most basic force driving every method. Most powerful methods had thresholds tied to both.
"As for mana, I now have a level-10 Zhou Tian Qi Gathering Method, breathing in Spiritual Machine constantly."
"The Dao Heart level is what I've neglected lately."
Zhang Yu checked his savings. After a new round of rent, utilities, food and miscellany, he had over 62,000 left. If he threw it all into raising mana, it would rent a Heaven Spiritual Root for a dozen-odd hours — like paying for an overnight internet cafe session. Gone in an instant, little gained.
So after days of weighing options, he felt he should buy a stronger Heart Method, push his Dao Heart to level 3, then switch to the Heavenly Martial Heart Refining Art to accelerate his Dao Heart further.
After all, a Qi Refining cultivator's Dao Heart went from level 1 to a maximum of 10, much like mana from 1 to 100. Raising Dao Heart to level 3 took no small time. A Heart Method stronger and more suited to him than the Basic Heart Refining Method could save a great deal.
Once both Dao Heart and mana were raised, cultivating stronger methods would be the fastest, most cost-effective path.
As for which to buy, Zhang Yu had spent days searching. Basic, advanced, expert...
Among the ones available, basic-grade methods were cheapest but offered little. Expert-grade were powerful, yet pricey with high thresholds — ill-suited to him now.
Advanced-grade Heart Methods, meanwhile, felt rather useless to most students four months into first year — but fit Zhang Yu perfectly. First year is when you lay your foundation, and the basic methods promoted by the school were researched by the Ten Great Sects — balanced, upright, excellent for building. Adding an advanced-grade method on top was exhausting for little reward.
That was why even rich students focused on fundamentals in first year, only unleashing in second to study costly Heart Methods. It was one reason the rich kids' scores only pulled ahead in second year, and poor-student geniuses started sliding then.
As for price, though advanced-grade methods cost far less than expert-grade, the follow-up expenses were no less. Self-studying a method was far too hard; for most people, you don't just get handed a secret manual — you need a teacher's guidance.
An advanced-grade Heart Method might cost a few hundred or thousand, but the follow-up training, classes, pointers... the tutoring fees could run into tens of thousands.
It reminded Zhang Yu of free-to-play games from his past life: free at base, but the items and characters could drain thousands if you kept paying.
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But these two points suited Zhang Yu fine. Tutoring? Doesn't exist. I, Zhang Yu, by myself alone — with my peerless aptitude, I can still master a divine art.
Opening the shopping site's favorites, Zhang Yu looked at a Heart Method he'd picked out.
An advanced-grade method: the Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art.
By the name, it sounded fierce, domineering, adamantine. But looking closer, the art required a matching state of mind — one of an ox plowing wasteland: diligent, uncomplaining, enduring hardship.
What was critical: its strongest state required another person — a role that could constantly push, press, and assign tasks, like a leader or a boss. The more orders given, the harder the pressure, the longer the hours, the more powerful the art became.
The Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art. Selected ten years running as the best worksite Heart Art. The Heart Art bosses love most. Also a beast-of-burden Heart Art whose user rating had languished below 1.2 for years.
Zhang Yu looked at the reviews.
One star — the company requires it. Really practical.
One star — five-star rating, paid in installments.
One star — got reamed by an idiotic boss again today.
A wave of grievance washed over him. Clearly most of this beast art's cultivators were coerced into practicing it — which matched the art's requirements perfectly.
He checked the configuration requirements.
Recommended setup: 1. Be forced to work 18+ hours every day
Zhang Yu thought: he was under 24-hour compulsion from the ritual power. Matched. 2. The forcing method should at least be verbal pressure; a pay-threat is even better.
He was currently threatened with death. Matched again.
"This beast-of-burden Heart Art really suits me. And the price..." The access fee was only 588 yuan — one of the cheapest advanced-grade methods he'd seen.
Except that to get started, the cultivator needed a "boss" to cooperate, so it also recommended the guidance service: 1,000 yuan a day. After all, many jobs required this Heart Art to be hired, but many had to find a job with a boss first before they could practice it. To solve this employment dilemma, the platform had launched the paid guidance service.
Damn it — paying to hire yourself a boss, huh? Zhang Yu cursed, knowing he didn't need this. He had something pressuring him around the clock.
It could be said the Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art — in effect, price, configuration — fit his current state to perfection. 588 bought no regret. Even if his mind couldn't adapt, the loss wouldn't be great.
The only thing that grated was the art's underlying spirit. But he was no longer the Zhang Yu who'd just transmigrated. Facing the harsh environment of Kunxu, facing the ritual power's endless pressure, he had learned to adjust his mindset to adapt.
Zhang Yu drew a deep breath. *Beast it is, then. Circumstances force a man's hand. When you should cower, cower. For now, I'll be a beast of burden — but with my potential, even quietly accumulating, there'll come a day when I poke a hole through this sky.*
He knew practicing this beast art wasn't about willingly becoming livestock, but temporary accumulation for a better future.
Place order. Pay. Receive. In an instant, he held an electronic copy. After reading it through, a new method surfaced on the Feather Book.
Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art 0 (0/1, Level 1 Dao Heart)
Zhang Yu sat cross-legged and began to cultivate. He emptied his mind, keeping his spirit calm, and started constructing the art's mental focus image.
A picture of an ox lowering its head, quietly plowing wasteland.
But his construction felt off. Suddenly he remembered something, stopped, and sat blankly. A moment later, a chill surged up from within his heart, and a countdown began to ring in his mind.
At once he resumed, and this time it instantly felt right. Within minutes, a picture of an ox lowering its head, quietly plowing, had taken shape.
In that moment, he seemed to have become an ox, silently toiling, uncomplaining — and much of his discontent dissolved. As he completed that mental focus image, memories of practicing the art seemed to well up from nowhere, letting him master it in a single stroke.
Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art Level 1 (0/3)
"Only three sessions and it levels up?" Zhang Yu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Is it because this method matches my state so closely?"
So he waited, and when the countdown rang, he practiced again, sketching the ox-plowing image. Forward and back, three times. A dozen-odd minutes passed; he felt a stirring in his spirit, his understanding deepening, the mental image growing clearer.
Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art Level 2 (0/6)
After reaching level 2, he increasingly felt cultivation wasn't so tedious anymore. "So this is the art's effect? Making you less afraid of hardship, more able to slog on..."
Only when he stopped running it did waves of exhaustion, boredom, and laziness surge back. A moment later, waiting for the ritual power, he ran it again, and all his restless, escapist thoughts were swept away, letting him cultivate earnestly.
"This method... isn't as bad as I thought."
He recalled a phrase from the art's foreword, spoken by its founder, who called himself the Wild Bull Great Sage.
"May all who face hardship feel one less ache of the heart and one more hope."
A thought rose unbidden: *Perhaps the man who created this never saw it as a beast-of-burden Heart Art at all.*
Nearly half an hour slipped by. Zhang Yu took a sharp breath, feeling a tremor in his Sea of Consciousness as the art rose to level 3 (0/9). After a little more cultivation, his mana and physical strength fell under his command, growing ever more controllable.
"My Dao Heart level has risen to level 2."
Even though he'd sensed he was close, he still marveled at the fierce progress of the Wild Bull Soul-Suppressing Heart Art. This method truly fit his current state.
"Then let's keep being a beast. As long as the pay is enough, being a beast isn't so bad."
So Zhang Yu immersed himself once more. As the art ran, he felt less of cultivation's tedium, and instead, strand after strand, the satisfaction of accumulation welled up — like an old ox diligently opening wasteland, watching its soil turn more fertile.