https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-185-Zhenzhen-s-Potential-Ritual-Embodiment/13686657/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-187-The-Songyang-Aristocracy-Zhang-Yu-s-Threat-Request-for-Monthly-Tickets-/13686659/
Chapter 186: School Electricity Overlord, 10th-Rank Spring and Autumn
Inside Songyang High School.
In Class 10, Grade 10.
Though Class 10 was the weakest academic cohort in the entire second-year grade, the classroom still brimmed with a palpable aura of the Dao—far surpassing that of any ordinary high school.
When Bai Zhenzhen walked in with her cold, expressionless face, she was greeted by a sight of syringes and medicine bottles lined up neatly on every desk, and a sea of awed, reverent gazes from the students.
To these Class 10 students, Bai Zhenzhen—ranked second in the entire grade and a competition award winner—was the true inner gate prodigy of Songyang High School. She was destined to ascend to the second layer, to enter university.
As for them? They were nothing but mere laborers. After graduation, they’d be heading straight to factories—half their feet already in the industrial abyss.
Yet now, the inner gate prodigy had come to their humble laborer’s den. The room fell into stunned silence, hearts pounding with surprise.
“Bai Zhenzhen! The Model Class prodigy actually came to us, the trash heap?”
“This is the second-ranked genius! If I could just copy her test papers, I’d skip class without a second thought!”
“Is she here to bully us? Don’t take my homework!”
As the students buzzed with anxious speculation, the class monitor quickly stood up, stepping forward to greet her.
“Senior Bai Zhenzhen, what brings you to our class?”
Though all were second-year students, in the Dao path, seniority was paramount. To survive in Songyang High School, students from weaker classes always addressed stronger ones as "Senior" or "Junior Sister."
Bai Zhenzhen pulled a power bank from her pocket, her voice as icy as ever.
“I need your class’s power sockets.
From now on, you’ll charge this for me every day.
When it’s full, bring it to me.”
Without waiting for the monitor’s stunned expression or the trembling anxiety in his eyes, she turned and walked out.
She didn’t fear disobedience. In the high school world, grades ruled supreme. A failure had no power against a prodigy. Not only would they charge her power bank—no matter how trivial—any demand, even kneeling and bowing, would be obeyed without question.
After leaving Class 10, Bai Zhenzhen moved on to several other classrooms, handing out the power bank one by one.
Then she reached the first-year floor.
She paused in front of empty, silent classrooms.
Power banks are just a minor supplement, she thought. Real electricity theft requires my fingers on the socket—fastest and most direct.
It was still late August. First-year students hadn’t arrived yet. With a casual step, she entered an empty first-year classroom and activated her Detection Ritual.
Her senses flared—four surveillance cameras were detected, but all four were dark.
No power. No signal. Naturally—no one’s here yet.
She relaxed, stepped toward a wall socket, and pressed her pale fingertip onto the metal.
A faint spark flickered at her fingertip. Then, a tingling, crackling surge of electricity surged through her body—crackling like fire, tingling like needles.
The current flooded into her, revitalizing her body. Her Thunder Martial Energy, already stored within, flared to life, surging through her limbs and spine. For a brief moment, her Martial Energy spiked, coursing through her nerves and muscles, reinforcing her flesh and nerves, and casting a soft, electric glow around her.
After a few minutes, she dropped into the Leiji True Body cultivation routine.
This Body-Refining Technique was designed to refine the body using Thunder-type Martial Energy. Now at the 10th rank and further refined through Zhen Linggen’s calculations, her body had become astonishingly resilient. Even at high speed, her flesh could absorb impact and dissipate energy like a shock absorber.
With the surge of Thunder Martial Energy already flooding her system, the need to cultivate it from scratch was eliminated. The Leiji True Body flowed like a river—unstoppable, seamless.
Since awakening her latent potential, her control over her Thunder Martial Energy felt effortless, as if it were a natural extension of her own flesh and blood.
And with the socket just a few steps away, she could recharge at will, maintaining a continuous flow of energy.
This cycle—recharge, refine, repeat—multiplied her cultivation efficiency by several times. Even her Dantian, where Zhen Linggen resided, began to glow faintly with tendrils of electric light.
Eventually, her muscles grew heavy, numb, trembling with fatigue. She knew her body had reached its limit.
“Hmm… time to rest. And check my harvest.”
She returned to the Model Class room—only to find her desk already piled high with fully charged power banks.
A small smile curled at the corner of her lips.
Without hesitation, she grabbed one, sprinted out, and began sucking on the charging cable with her mouth, letting the slow trickle of current flow into her body while she began breath-regulating to restore her Martial Energy.
Meanwhile, in the classroom, a student approached He Dayou with a complaint.
“President, if Bai Zhenzhen keeps hoarding all the sockets, how are we supposed to charge our devices?”
He Dayou narrowed his eyes.
“Bai Zhenzhen is second in the entire grade. What’s your rank? You should be grateful she lets you charge at all.”
“But—” the student stammered.
He Dayou cut in coldly:
“No buts. Either endure it, or beat her in grades. Then you can charge in the principal’s office if you want.”
The student slunk away, defeated.
He Dayou sighed. As vice president of the Student Union, I must uphold fairness.
If Zhao Tianxing were the one monopolizing sockets, he’d have stood up and defended the students.
But it was Bai Zhenzhen.
So all he could do was tell others to bear with it.
…
On the school rooftop.
Zhang Yu practiced Chunqiu Wujin Chan. Each movement brought his muscles to the brink of tearing—ripped, shredded, then instantly healed by the Eternal Martial Energy.
In this endless cycle of death and rebirth, autumn and spring, he grew stronger with every repetition, purging toxins from medicine and pills accumulated in his body.
Finally, after completing one more cycle, Zhang Yu’s eyes snapped open—his gaze sharp as a blade.
Chunqiu Wujin Chan had reached the 10th rank.
Instantly, a flood of memories surged through his mind—countless cycles of spring and autumn, years of body refinement and purification. His mastery of the technique had reached a peak.
The 49 movements of Chunqiu Wujin Chan unfolded in his mind, each one pulsing with Eternal Martial Energy. The eternal cycle of life and death strengthened his body, purified his flesh, and felt endless.
And now, with the 10th rank unlocked, he discovered a new power: the ability to retain poison—both medicinal and alchemical—within his body instead of expelling it.
These toxins gathered on the skin of his chest, forming a faint, ink-like Buddhist character—the Chan symbol. As more poison accumulated, the character darkened, deepened.
Normally, this poison did no harm. But when Zhang Yu needed it, he could unleash it—suddenly, violently, igniting his body and forcing it to tap into reserves of life force far beyond normal limits.
“However,” Zhang Yu mused, “the stronger the poison stored, the greater the power unleashed. But the cost is life itself.”
He thought carefully. This is a desperate move—something to use only when all else fails.
When would such a move be worth it?
Not in a fight. Fighting was already pushing the body to its limits. Using this technique would be too costly—risking more than gaining.
But for the Foundation Establishment Exam—life’s most critical turning point?
If sacrificing a few years of life could drastically improve his odds…
Then yes, he would accept it.
Now that Chunqiu Wujin Chan has reached the 10th rank, I need to gather the basic high school techniques soon and complete the High School Saint Body.
After a brief moment of familiarizing himself with the new level, the bell rang.
Dinner time.
After hours of intense cultivation, eating was just as vital as training.
Zhang Yu leapt down from the rooftop in a single bound—thud!—landing perfectly on the ground before dashing toward the cafeteria.
In front of the lunch line, he paused, scanning the crowd.
Purple people. Black people. Beastmen.
Songyang High School had become astonishingly diverse.
The Black students, in particular, gave him a strange sense of familiarity.
It’s like I’ve traveled back in time.
Who would’ve thought Kunxu would have its own Black students too?
Under the reverent gazes of onlookers, Zhang Yu bypassed the line entirely, grabbed his meal, and headed straight to his usual seat.
There, he found Bai Zhenzhen already waiting.
As he ate and opened his phone to browse for basic high school techniques, Zhao Tianxing and Qian Shen arrived with their trays.
But they looked different—drastically so—compared to just weeks ago.
Their skin still held a faint purple hue, but far lighter than before.
Zhao Tianxing remembered the days when only a few students like him had undergone the Modification Surgery, turning their skin purple. Back then, he’d felt embarrassed.
But as more and more students got the surgery, he grew comfortable. Then, the ones who hadn’t? They started feeling awkward.
Now, almost everyone had the surgery. And the deeper the purple, the lower the status.
The lighter the skin, the more control one had over the Super Metabolism.
In just a few weeks, Zhao Tianxing realized, the purple community has developed its own hierarchy—deep purple, medium purple, and finally, the elite: those with no purple at all. The lighter the color, the higher the rank.
And this is just Songyang. I’ve heard at Ziyun High School, everyone underwent the surgery. Skin color is now woven into the school’s caste system—absolute and rigid.
Just then, the school broadcast crackled to life.
“Attention, all students. Starting today, campus discipline will be strictly enforced. Late arrivals, unexcused absences—no exceptions.”
Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen both stiffened.
They were both notorious absconders.
After all, the current high school curriculum was far too slow for their Dao cultivation. Staying in class meant wasting precious time. For two students racing toward the Foundation Establishment Exam, skipping class wasn’t a choice—it was survival.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
