Chapter 50: Wuji Yunshou
Zhang Yu stared at his phone, where an electronic agreement was displayed. The terms were simple: granting the top ten finishers of the Martial Energy Competition the right to use Wuji Yunshou, with strict restrictions—no distribution, no commercial use, and no public sharing of the technique’s content.
Bai Zhenzhen stood beside him, tilting her head as she scanned the document. “Seriously stingy,” she grumbled. “This Xianyun Group is a massive corporation—how come their sponsorship is so tightfisted? And they only hand out the technique to the top ten? If everyone got one, it’d be fair!”
Zhang Yu shook his head dismissively. “If everyone got it, wouldn’t that undermine the value of the top performers’ achievements?”
“Honestly,” Bai Zhenzhen shot him a sideways glance, “ten people is already too many. I think anyone ranked below fourth didn’t even truly grasp the exam questions.”
Zhang Yu blinked. “You’re kidding… You’re saying the top performers aren’t fair? That the lower-ranked ones don’t understand the material? That’s not even logical.”
Bai Zhenzhen stared at him, her expression turning sour. “You’ve forgotten all your principles from a month ago, haven’t you? Remember how you once railed against the flaws in the modern Daoist education system? Where did that fire go?”
She sighed, disappointment etched across her face. “Yu… my Yu is dead. What stands before me now is nothing but a hollow shell, enslaved by grades and rankings.”
“Haha, A-Zhen,” Zhang Yu said, eyes lighting up at the notification on his screen. “The prize money just arrived!”
His lips curled into a grin so wide it felt like it could rival an AK’s recoil.
This time, finishing fourth in the Mana Competition had earned him a solid 20,000 in cash—pushing his total savings up to over 63,000.
Zhang Yu slapped Bai Zhenzhen on the shoulder, grinning. “A-Zhen, after school, I’m treating you to dinner.”
“Such a good kid!” she beamed. “I knew you’d never forget where you came from.”
Soon, the schools began dispersing. Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen followed the crowd from Songyang High School out through the main gates of the venue.
Just then, a dark silhouette plummeted from the stadium’s roof.
“Is that…?” Zhang Yu narrowed his eyes. “A person?”
Someone had fallen?
Before he could process it, the scene erupted into motion.
In normal circumstances, the fall would’ve ended in a sickening thud. But this wasn’t a quiet afternoon—scores of high schoolers, teachers, coaches, referees, and judges filled the space, many from Hongta High School.
And in this environment, protecting campus safety was everyone’s duty.
As the figure tumbled downward, several streaks of martial energy surged from below—like a cushion of force—catching the falling person mid-air.
Liang Qin, eyes closed, expecting death, instead felt himself land on a warm, soft surface.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself gently lowered to the ground by a cocoon of martial energy.
“Why did you save me?” he cried out, his voice thick with anguish. There was no relief—only despair.
Just moments ago, he’d lost every last cent betting on the Mana Competition. His father had even called, demanding payment. A gambler’s last resort—jumping.
The teacher who’d saved him showed no joy either. “This campus is a no-jump zone,” he said flatly. “Your situation has been reported. Authorities will contact you regarding compensation.”
Liang Qin’s face twisted with fury. “I didn’t mean to jump! I just… slipped!”
The teacher remained unmoved. “Slipped? That’s negligent jumping. And negligence costs money.”
Furious, Liang Qin clenched his fists—but the memory of that precise, powerful energy surge kept him silent.
Once I find a better spot… I’ll jump somewhere else.
He began mentally scanning options: school rooftops, hospitals, shopping malls, apartment complexes… All of them would cost him.
“Damn world,” he muttered. “Even dying for free is impossible now.”
Meanwhile, Songyang High School had nearly cleared the campus.
Even Zhang Yu, who’d seen a jump in real life, wasn’t shocked. He just found the man wrapped in glowing energy oddly familiar.
...
Songyang High School – Cafeteria
Bai Zhenzhen stuffed a chicken leg into her mouth, crunching through bone and flesh with satisfying little snaps.
Before her sat a whole table piled high with chicken, duck, fish, and meat—totaling over 400 yuan, paid for by Zhang Yu.
Even with their enhanced bodies and martial cultivation, they could still eat their fill.
“Ah,” Bai Zhenzhen sighed after a bite. “Nothing beats school’s pre-made meals. Smells fresh—like it just came out of the freezer.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Hongta High’s lunch? Tastes off. Who knows how much synthetic food they’ve dumped in it.”
Zhang Yu nodded, chewing thoughtfully. Though he was enjoying his meal, his mind drifted to memories of better food from his past life.
“A-Zhen,” he said, “when I get richer, I’ll treat you to real cuisine.”
Bai Zhenzhen perked up. “You mean the nutrient supplements on the second floor?”
Zhang Yu understood. To Songyang High—no, to most high schoolers in Songyang City—better food meant food that boosted cultivation, improved test scores. Taste? That was a luxury.
For high schoolers, flavor was a privilege.
He didn’t explain further. Just said, “When I’m rich, you’ll see.”
Then he remembered the competition. “A-Zhen, how did you come up with that last set of punches?”
Bai Zhenzhen shrugged. “Look at the Energy Circulation Diagram—it’s got six moves. Obvious, right?”
Zhang Yu blinked. “Wait… really?”
“Yeah,” she said, frowning. “It’s not hard to see.”
So obvious? Zhang Yu stared at her. He still couldn’t figure out how she’d seen it instantly.
Maybe even students ranked below 100 had their value.
After a pause, she added, “I was desperate. I just wanted to see if external martial forms could help stabilize my energy flow.”
She sighed. “Turns out, it didn’t work.”
Thinking back on her struggles during the competition, she clenched her fists. “From tomorrow on—I’m hitting the tutoring sessions.”
I will not fall behind anyone!
She turned to Zhang Yu. “Will you go to Teacher Yan’s tutoring?”
Earlier that day, Teacher Yan had pulled them aside, saying the school would use their competition results to secure funding for a dedicated Martial Energy training program. They’d be invited to enroll.
Zhang Yu nodded. “Absolutely. I’m in.”
Finishing fourth had been impressive, but it had also shown him his limits. Without the last-minute insight from Bai Zhenzhen’s Wuji Yunshou, he wouldn’t have even cracked the top ten.
He wanted to master martial energy control—so that next time, victory wouldn’t rely on luck.
And with school funding, Teacher Yan’s classes might even include flying swords, cultivation manuals, and other rewards. The thought excited him.
Seeing Zhang Yu’s firm nod, Bai Zhenzhen smiled. “Good. Then we’ll both go find Old Yan together.”
...
Back at home, Zhang Yu didn’t begin his usual Huangniu Zhenhun Xinfa cultivation to strengthen his Dao Heart.
His Feather Scroll specialization had shifted to Wuji Yunshou. So he decided to take advantage of the moment and push the technique’s level further.
He thought, Six moves only—should level up faster than San Shou. Maybe even hit level 10 in one night.
He returned to the abandoned building.
Here, he felt like he was home. He’d trained through countless nights, never disturbed, never interrupted.
Quiet. Private. Perfect for full-force practice.
If not for the rent already paid and the lack of electricity, water, and internet, he’d have moved in permanently.
He stepped into a barren, grayish hall.
With a thought, a surge of martial energy rose from his dantian, vibrating through seven layers of refinement before bursting from his palms as swirling mists.
Having already mastered Wuji Yunshou at level 1, the speed and quality of his energy conversion far surpassed anyone on the competition stage.
The cloud-like energy wrapped his hands. He murmured, “Wuxiang Yun’gang…”
After signing the agreement, he’d gained both the right to use Wuji Yunshou and the electronic manual. The true name of this martial aura was written within.
Wuxiang Yun’gang—resembling drifting clouds, both flexible and powerful. It excelled at redirecting force, using an opponent’s power against them. A versatile technique—equally effective for offense and defense.
Zhang Yu began practicing the six external forms.
His fist shot forward—white Wuxiang Yun’gang surged like a battering ram, roaring through the air with immense force.
This was the technique’s brute-force form—designed to break through enemy defenses.
Then, he shifted his hands. The energy flowed like layered clouds around him, soft yet springy.
This was the defensive form. The elastic Wuxiang Yun’gang could deflect incoming attacks and even rebound some of the force back at the opponent.
In less than a minute, he’d completed the six forms. Then he repeated the sequence.
The entire routine was short—only six moves. Zhang Yu finished ten rounds in just over ten minutes.
Wuji Yunshou 1st Level (0/10) → 2nd Level (0/20)
With the level-up, Zhang Yu instantly experienced a flood of refined mastery—his energy refinement, control over Wuxiang Yun’gang, and application of the six forms all improved dramatically.
He looked at his hands.
Previously, the white mist curled upward like smoke from a distant fire, rising like a signal tower. That was how he’d looked on stage.
Now, the rising vapors were fewer. The energy was tighter, more controlled.
A sign of progress.
(End of Chapter)
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