https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-38-10th-Level-Zhou-Tian-Cai-Qi-Fa/13686439/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-40-Joyful-Heart-Art-and-Mana-Competition-Tutorial/13686441/
Chapter 39: Mind Art
Zhou Tian Cai Qi Fa had finally reached Level 10. With that milestone achieved, Zhang Yu now planned to switch Feather Scroll’s Specialization and upgrade another cultivation technique.
After deciding not to sign a Contract with the Student Union—and choosing instead to break through the barriers and enter one of the Top Ten Elite Universities—Zhang Yu had come to a few realizations.
First, without the Student Union’s investment, the resources at his disposal would inevitably be far more limited.
And to get into the Top Ten, the pressure he’d face in the future would be exponentially greater than what he was experiencing now.
Limited resources. Heavier pressure.
Therefore, Zhang Yu knew he’d have to be meticulous in how he allocated and utilized every last bit of his resources—maximizing his growth within every unit of time.
To achieve that, he had to leverage his strengths to the fullest: absolute self-discipline and extraordinary potential.
In short, he needed to train in stronger, more difficult techniques.
For the master of Feather Scroll, Zhang Yu, the more powerful the cultivation method he studied, the better the results—especially when he practiced it with relentless dedication.
It was like this: one Zhang Yu toiling to master the Great Desolation Prisoning Heaven Finger, another struggling through basic long palm techniques. Just by name alone, it was clear which path held greater promise.
Zhang Yu thought to himself, “But this isn’t something you can just do on a whim.”
The stronger the technique, the higher the threshold.
Like how even a dog can learn the dog-paddle stroke—but not everyone can master underwater ballet.
Even among Expert-level techniques, such as the Tianwu Heart Cultivation Scripture in Zhang Yu’s possession, he still hadn’t met the Level 3 Dao Heart requirement.
So, to unlock powerful techniques, the first prerequisite was to meet their requirements—no matter how demanding.
Zhang Yu’s eyes scanned his phone screen, staring at the list of formidable techniques and their respective prerequisites.
“Dao Heart! Martial Energy!”
Just like high school teachers used to say: Dao Heart and Martial Energy were the foundation of the immortal path.
Dao Heart Level reflected a cultivator’s mastery and capacity for spiritual power.
Martial Energy was the fundamental force driving all cultivation techniques.
Most powerful techniques had thresholds tied directly to Dao Heart and Martial Energy.
Thus, to master advanced methods, one needed a high Dao Heart Level and abundant Martial Energy.
“I already have Level 10 Zhou Tian Cai Qi Fa,” Zhang Yu noted. “It’s like constantly inhaling spiritual essence, refining Martial Energy nonstop.”
“However… Dao Heart Level has been the part I’ve neglected.”
He checked his bank balance. After paying rent, utilities, and daily living expenses, he had just over 62,000 left.
Even if he spent it all on boosting Martial Energy, it would only buy him ten or so hours of Celestial Spirit Root usage—like renting a gaming booth for a night. The money would vanish in an instant, with negligible gains.
After days of thinking, Zhang Yu concluded: he needed to buy a stronger Mind Art—something that could rapidly elevate his Dao Heart to Level 3—so he could then switch to the Tianwu Heart Cultivation Scripture and accelerate his progress even further.
After all, Dao Heart Level in the Qi Cultivation stage, from Level 1 to the maximum of Level 10, was roughly equivalent to Martial Energy from Level 1 to 100.
Raising Dao Heart to Level 3 wouldn’t happen overnight. But if he had a stronger, more suitable Mind Art—better than the Basic Mind-Cultivation Method—it could save him a lot of time.
Once both Dao Heart and Martial Energy were elevated, only then could he begin training in truly powerful techniques.
That would be the fastest, most efficient, and highest-value cultivation path at this stage.
Over the past few days, Zhang Yu had already researched extensively—comparing Basic, Advanced, and Expert-level Mind Arts.
Among the ones he could afford, Basic-level techniques were cheapest—but offered little benefit for him.
Expert-level arts were powerful, yes, but exorbitantly priced and too difficult to master right now.
The Advanced-level techniques, however, were just right.
For most first-year high school students, these were often seen as redundant—too advanced for foundational training. But for Zhang Yu, they were perfectly suited.
In terms of effect: first year was the time to build the foundation. The basic techniques promoted by the Top Ten Sects were developed by experts—balanced, stable, and ideal for laying a solid base.
At this stage, learning an extra Advanced-level Mind Art would be labor-intensive and inefficient. It made more sense to focus solely on mastering one foundational technique.
So even wealthy students typically stuck to basics during their first year—only in their second year did they begin investing in expensive, high-tier techniques.
That was one of the reasons why rich students’ grades often didn’t pull ahead until second year—while poor geniuses, after a strong start, began to lose ground.
Price-wise, Advanced-level techniques were far cheaper than Expert-level ones—but the real costs didn’t end there.
Because mastering a technique from a book was nearly impossible for most people. It wasn’t like handing someone a scroll and saying, “Go ahead and learn.” Most needed teachers, guidance, classes, and tutoring.
A single Advanced-level Mind Art might cost a few hundred or a few thousand—but the ongoing tuition, private lessons, and coaching fees could easily run into tens of thousands.
This reminded Zhang Yu of some games from his previous life—free to play, but in-game purchases, character upgrades, and premium items could cost tens of thousands.
Run for your life.jpg
But for Zhang Yu, these two factors were actually perfect.
Tutoring? Not needed.
He was Zhang Yu—self-reliant, and with the talent to master divine arts through sheer willpower.
He opened his shopping site’s bookmarks and stared at one particular Mind Art he’d chosen.
Advanced-level Technique: Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa
(Huangniu Soul-Consolidation Method)
At first glance, the name sounded fierce and mighty—like a force of nature, unyielding and indomitable.
But upon closer inspection, Zhang Yu realized the technique demanded a mindset of relentless diligence: like an old ox plowing a field, tireless, obedient, and willing to endure hardship.
Even more critical: the technique’s peak effectiveness required a partner—an authority figure who could constantly pressure, assign tasks, and push the cultivator to the brink.
The more orders, the harsher the pressure, the longer the work hours—the stronger the technique’s effect.
Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa had been consistently ranked the Best Construction Site Cultivation Method for ten years in a row.
It was the most beloved technique among bosses.
And it had a user rating below 1.2 for years.
Zhang Yu glanced at the reviews.
⭐ 1-star: Required by company. Truly useful.
⭐ 1-star: Five-star rating paid in installments.
⭐ 1-star: Boss just gave me another hellish day again.
He scanned a few more, and a wave of bitter resentment washed over him—this wasn’t just a bad review. It was the collective cry of millions who’d been forced to train in this method.
Clearly, most users were being coerced—perfectly matching the technique’s requirements.
Zhang Yu then checked the recommended system specs.
Recommended Configuration:
1. Be forced to work 18+ hours per day.
2. Pressure must be verbal at minimum; salary threats ideal. The harsher the pressure, the better.
Zhang Yu nodded. I’m already being pressured 24/7 by Ritual Power. That fits perfectly.
He read on.
3. The more tasks assigned, the faster the progress.
Zhang Yu smirked. I’m being threatened with death every single day. That’s even better than salary threats.
“This cow’s mind art really fits my current situation,” Zhang Yu thought. “And the price…?”
He looked at the price: 588 yuan for the usage license.
The lowest-priced Advanced-level technique he’d seen.
The only catch? To unlock it, the user needed a “boss” to assist.
So the platform also recommended a daily 1,000-yuan guidance service.
Because many jobs required this technique—but you couldn’t learn it without first having a boss.
To solve this catch-22, the platform offered paid tutoring—essentially paying to hire a boss.
Zhang Yu snorted. So I have to pay to get a boss?
But he didn’t need it.
He already had one—Ritual Power, watching over him 24/7.
Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa—perfect fit in every way: effectiveness, price, requirements.
588 yuan? No risk. No loss. If the mindset didn’t stick, he’d lose nothing.
The only thing that bothered him was the spirit of the technique.
But Zhang Yu was no longer the naive version of himself from when he first arrived.
He’d survived Kunxu’s brutal environment. He’d endured Ritual Power’s relentless pressure.
He’d learned to adjust his mind and adapt.
Taking a deep breath, Zhang Yu whispered to himself:
“Be a cow? Fine. The situation forces me to.”
“If I must play the ox, then I’ll play it for now.”
“With my potential, even if I’m just a cow, I’ll eventually crack the heavens open.”
He knew: training in this Cow’s Mind Art wasn’t about accepting servitude. It was temporary—just a way to gather strength, to prepare for the future.
Order placed. Payment confirmed. Delivery received.
In seconds, he had the digital version of the technique.
After reading it through once, a new entry appeared on Feather Scroll:
Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa 0 (0/1, 1/1 Dao Heart Level)
Zhang Yu sat cross-legged and began cultivation.
He cleared his mind, striving for mental stillness, and began visualizing the technique’s inner focus image—a scene of an old ox, head down, quietly plowing a field.
But after a few moments, something felt off.
Then it hit him.
He stopped abruptly, sitting frozen.
A moment later, a chill surged through his chest. His mind was suddenly filled with a countdown.
Now, when he tried again, the technique clicked.
Minutes later, the image of the plowing ox was fully drawn in his mind—clear, vivid, alive.
For the first time, he felt like a true ox—silent, obedient, endlessly working.
The lingering irritation in his heart vanished.
As he completed the visualization, countless memories of practicing Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa flooded his mind—suddenly, he understood the technique completely.
Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa Level 1 (0/3)
“Just three repetitions to level up?” Zhang Yu couldn’t tell whether to laugh or cry.
“Is it because this technique matches my current state so perfectly?”
He waited.
When the countdown sounded again, he resumed the practice—drawing the image of the ox in his mind.
Back and forth. Three times.
Ten minutes passed.
Then, a subtle shift in his spirit—his understanding deepened. The image in his mind grew sharper, more fluid.
Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa Level 2 (0/6)
Especially now, the practice felt less tedious. Less unbearable.
“Is this the effect of Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa? It makes you increasingly indifferent to hardship… more willing to grind?”
When he stopped, the fatigue, boredom, and urge to slack off returned—like a wave.
But moments later, as Ritual Power reappeared, he resumed the cultivation.
Instantly, the restlessness, the desire to escape, vanished.
He settled into the practice—calm, focused, and resolute.
“This technique… isn’t as bad as I thought.”
Then he recalled the opening words from the technique’s preface—written by its founder, the legendary Huangniu Great Sage:
> “May all people facing hardship carry less sorrow, and more hope.”
A thought struck him.
“Maybe the creator of this technique never saw it as a ‘cow’s method’… Maybe it was never meant to dehumanize.”
Half an hour passed.
Zhang Yu took a deep breath—his mind trembled.
Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa Level 3 (0/9)
After a few more minutes, he felt a sudden shift in his body—Martial Energy and physical strength now flowed like extensions of his will.
“My Dao Heart Level has reached Level 2.”
He’d sensed it was close—but this progress was astonishing.
This technique truly matched his current state.
“Then I’ll keep being a cow… as long as the payment’s good. Being a cow isn’t so bad.”
And so, Zhang Yu plunged back into the cultivation of Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa.
As the technique flowed through him, the tedium of training faded.
Instead, a quiet sense of accomplishment grew—like an old ox, slowly turning barren land into fertile soil.
The satisfaction of steady, relentless progress.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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