Chapter 16: Patrol
Zhang Yu glanced back at Zhao Tianxing, who was still standing frozen in place, and urged him with a smirk: “Come on, little Zhao—what are you doing, loafing here?”
Zhao Tianxing snapped back to attention and hurried after him, but couldn’t help sneaking one more lingering look toward Bai Zhenzhen, who was now busily carrying dishes. They’ll never believe me when I tell them back at school, he thought. Bai Zhenzhen’s actually working? Has something happened in her family?
After another round of patrol, Zhang Yu led Zhao Tianxing into a quiet, unoccupied service corridor. There, Zhang Yu suddenly dropped into a meditative lotus position and said, “You can sit too, you know. Let’s take a break.”
Zhao Tianxing blinked. “Uh… but the captain told us to keep patrolling. What if he finds out?”
Zhang Yu chuckled. “The exhibition hasn’t even started yet. What’s the point of patrolling? And in Central Tower, what kind of trouble could possibly happen?”
He grinned. “Besides, you wanted to talk to me, didn’t you? Now’s as good a time as any to discuss the true art of being a security guard.”
Hearing that, Zhao Tianxing remembered Wang Hai’s instructions.
Then Zhang Yu dropped a bombshell: “The whole point of being a security guard is to slack off.”
Zhao Tianxing: “Huh?”
Zhang Yu continued: “Does it matter if you patrol five times or three? Will your pay change?”
Zhao Tianxing hesitated. “Well… probably not?”
“Does the venue’s security level drop if we’re here or not?”
Zhao Tianxing scratched his head. “Not really… but—”
“Yet the time we steal for ourselves? That’s ours.”
“Alright, I’m resting now. We’ll rejoin the rounds once the exhibition officially starts.”
Zhang Yu closed his eyes and began slow, deep breathing—his body radiating a faint, controlled energy.
Zhao Tianxing, meanwhile, felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest. He was terrified of getting caught slacking off on the job.
He glanced again at Zhang Yu, now fully immersed in meditation. He couldn’t help but admire how calmly the man seized every moment to train—yet also marveled at his sheer nerve.
Wait—didn’t I come here to talk to him about buying medicine? Why did he drag me into this conversation about loafing?
Suddenly, Zhao Tianxing’s eyes narrowed. He replayed Zhang Yu’s words in his mind.
Zhao Tianxing was the kind of person who wasn’t great at socializing, but was deeply sensitive—always overthinking others’ thoughts, always second-guessing himself.
Now, he realized: Everything Zhang Yu said… it all fit what I’ve been doing.
Does Wang Hai really care if I ask him questions more or less?
Would he really lose any vital information just because I’m not there to spy for him?
Did Zhang Yu already see through me? Was he deliberately pushing me to slack off—like a test?
As these thoughts unfolded, Zhao Tianxing looked back at Zhang Yu. The man’s breathing now seemed deeper, more mysterious—almost otherworldly.
With a silent surge of energy, Zhang Yu completed one full cycle of internal cultivation. The Zhou Tian Cai Qi Fa skill level rose to (13/80).
And just then—finally—the art exhibition began.
…
“Not bad for a Li Xuelian–organized exhibit. The guests are all top-tier,” Zhao Tianxing murmured in awe.
He didn’t recognize most of them, but their extravagant clothing and jewelry alone spoke volumes—each piece worth a fortune.
Even though Zhao Tianxing’s father was a minor executive at a company and their family was reasonably well-off, Zhao Tianxing still recognized many of the luxury brands as completely out of reach for his household.
At that moment, Zhang Yu leaned in and whispered, “Old Zhao—look over there!”
Zhao Tianxing followed the direction of his nod—and immediately spotted a golden figure, dazzling in the crowd, being escorted by a group of well-dressed guests.
He squinted. The man’s entire body shimmered like burnished gold, glowing faintly with a radiant, metallic sheen.
Zhang Yu frowned. “What… is that? Some kind of robot?”
Zhao Tianxing instantly clamped a hand over Zhang Yu’s mouth, eyes darting nervously to make sure the golden man hadn’t noticed them. Only when he was certain the figure hadn’t turned did he exhale quietly.
He pulled his hand away and whispered, “That’s the Director of Songyang City at Xianyun Group. Don’t say anything stupid.”
“Xianyun Group?” Zhang Yu raised an eyebrow. “But why does he look so… shiny?”
Zhao Tianxing explained, “That’s a Spirit Armor. You’ve never heard of it?”
Seeing Zhang Yu’s blank expression, Zhao Tianxing sighed. “It’s… not just a prosthetic. It’s way beyond that. In spiritual tech, it’s evolved to replace any part of the body.”
“Think of it like using a talisman to replace limbs, organs, even your bones—enhancing strength, speed, defense, all while keeping the original function intact.”
“But only those with over 100 spiritual energy can implant it.”
Zhang Yu’s eyes flickered. One hundred energy points—that was the absolute limit of the Qi-Refining Realm.
He asked, “Is it 100 points, or do you have to reach Foundation Establishment first?”
Zhao Tianxing replied, “100 is enough. But this guy? He’s a true Foundation Establishment Realm cultivator. Born into a prestigious family. Graduated from Wanfa University.”
Zhang Yu smirked. So a senior-tier immortal-level elder, fresh out of college, comes to this floor to flex his power and mock us lowly Qi-Refining cultivators. Classic.
As more guests arrived, Zhang Yu spotted two more figures who seemed to be wearing Spirit Armor—one with eyes like glowing gemstones, another with a halo-like aura floating behind his head. Their presence stood out starkly against the sea of wealthy elites, drawing in lesser cultivators like moths to a flame.
The three of them formed an informal center, attracting young, aspiring martial artists who looked ready to kneel in worship.
Zhao Tianxing, meanwhile, seemed to grow more comfortable in his security uniform. He watched the crowd with less tension.
As they patrolled, they overheard snippets of conversation.
Some guests marveled at Li Xuelian’s wealth.
Others praised the artwork, debating prices and authenticity.
And then came talk of the Golden Core Immortal’s hand-painted Celestial Martial Arts Diagram.
“Mr. Li? Are you here to study the Celestial Martial Arts Diagram painted by the Xinghuo Immortal?”
“Of course. If any teenager under twenty masters even a single move from it, the Xinghuo Immortal will personally take them as a disciple. This news has spread across the entire Shangyang Immortal Realm. How could I miss it?”
Zhang Yu’s mind froze. Wait… this was already public knowledge? And the whole Shangyang Immortal Realm knows about it? But I’ve never heard a word of it.
Is this some secret only high-tier immortals get to know? Or am I just too low-level to be in the loop?
He pushed the thought aside. Time to focus on duty.
He approached the young man, bowing slightly. “Sir, are you alright?”
The boy—tall, sharp-featured, with an air of noble bearing—glanced at him in confusion. “What do you mean? What could possibly be wrong?”
He lifted his chin. “I’m Lian Tianji from Ziyun High School. Can’t you see I’m talking to a friend?”
Zhang Yu and Zhao Tianxing exchanged glances—and then looked at the “friend.”
It was a small box sitting on a table, its surface carved with an intricate wood grain pattern. It looked exactly like a coffin.
Zhang Yu nearly choked. Is he mentally ill? Did years of studying drive him insane?
But he recognized Ziyun High School. It was a legendary institution—more prestigious than Songyang High School, one of the three top schools in Shangyang City. Back when Zhang Yu was just a kid, he’d never even dreamed of getting in. The school was infamous for its brutal discipline, cruel headmasters, and terrifyingly strict rules.
Compared to Ziyun, even Songyang’s harsh policies seemed like child’s play. The rumors of a caste system—where underachievers ate in toilets, and the weak were forced to bow to the strong—were enough to send shivers down any student’s spine.
Now, watching Lian Tianji casually chatting with a coffin-shaped box, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but wonder: Is Ziyun High School really turning people into monsters?
Then—unexpectedly—the box spoke.
“Lian Brother, these two security guards are clearly mistaken.”
“I am Li Xingyu, a soul cultivator from Mangshan High School.”
Mangshan High School? Soul cultivator?
Zhang Yu remembered—that was the school he once tried to apply to.
He knew that soul cultivators didn’t just have lower entrance exam requirements—they were required to abandon their physical bodies entirely.
But now, seeing the box on the table, he couldn’t help but gasp.
Mangshan High School really does turn people into ghosts.
Zhang Yu quickly apologized and hurried away with Zhao Tianxing.
Then, just as they stepped back, they watched in stunned silence as the box on the table unfolded—four spiral-shaped propellers extended from its sides, lifting it off the table like a drone.
It hovered, then zipped away silently.
Zhang Yu exhaled in relief. Thank goodness I didn’t choose the soul cultivator path. Otherwise, I’d never even get close to looking like a graceful immortal—how could I ever become a true cultivator?
But then—another thought struck him.
If that soul cultivator has no body… how is he supposed to practice the Celestial Martial Arts Diagram?
And then he recalled the earlier conversation.
If someone under twenty can master even a single move… the Xinghuo Immortal will take them as a disciple.
That means… there will be dozens, maybe hundreds of prodigies coming here—trying to learn that diagram, hoping to unlock a legendary martial art.
Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up.
One hour for 400 yuan. Pay, entertainment, and a chance to learn a legendary technique? Who says this job isn’t great? This job is perfect.
He turned to Zhao Tianxing. “So, old Zhao—how about it? You interested in that Celestial Martial Arts Diagram?”
Zhao Tianxing shook his head instantly.
He had no illusions. This was the kind of thing only geniuses or the ultra-wealthy could hope to master. For someone like him? It was pure fantasy.
Not just uninterested—terrified. The moment the diagram was unveiled, he’d rather run away than even attempt to try.
But just a moment later, Zhao Tianxing—now almost used to his security uniform—felt a wave of despair.
He wanted to tear off the suit and disappear.
Zhang Yu noticed Zhao Tianxing suddenly turn away, shoulders hunched.
He followed the gaze—and froze.
“Wait… isn’t that Qian Shen? And those others… aren’t they from our school too?”
Qian Shen—ranked consistently second behind Bai Zhenzhen since the start of term—was the undisputed academic prodigy.
Zhang Yu patted Zhao Tianxing’s shoulder. “Hey, old Zhao—look. Isn’t that one of our classmates?”
Zhao Tianxing yanked Zhang Yu’s arm hard, his voice tight with panic. “Turn around! Don’t let them see you!”
(End of Chapter)
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