https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-82-Cultivation-Technique-Cultivation-Thank-You-Honorary-Patron-Meng-Yeyue-/13686507/
Chapter 81: Song Hailong Offered Me a Coaching Role (Thanks to the Patron 'Yutaro')
Lei Jun’s heart was racing with exhilaration—partly from the prospect of bonuses, salary increases, and a successful teaching record, but mostly from a deep, unexpected nostalgia for his own past.
Once upon a time, he too had been a fiery high school student, dreaming of one day using his bare fists to crush every rival—be they top-tier scholars or wealthy elites—rising to the pinnacle of all schools in Songyang City.
"One punch to break a billion coins! That is the ultimate realm sought by generations of martial practitioners!"
But reality had quickly slapped him hard.
His Monthly Exam scores were a crushing reminder of how far behind he was. The fierce competition in the martial arts arena, where the syllabus was constantly stretched beyond limits, made it painfully clear that he and the privileged geniuses from elite families existed on entirely different planes. Like a gnat gazing up at the sky, the gap felt hopeless.
It was then he realized: the true power wasn’t in fists, nor in swordplay or cultivation sects—no, it was in money. Billion-coin dominance shattered all laws of martial arts.
He had learned the truth: power came from wealth. The more in your account, the stronger your punch.
And now, here he stood—watching his student, Zhang Yu, defeat numerous elite opponents with nothing but frail limbs, extraordinary talent, and unmatched skill. The boy had closed the gap of physical weakness, medical coverage, and financial privilege, dominating the top students from prestigious schools.
He had done what Lei Jun once dreamed of… and later, dared not even dream of.
Lei Jun exhaled slowly. "Ah… to have beaten money with one’s own fists… this is the true path of a martial cultivator. Though it was just the first-year Arena Competition, it’s a moment I’ll remember for life."
Meanwhile, the medical attendant beside him spoke coolly:
"Nothing serious. Just lost too much blood, causing qi deficiency. A blood supplement will fix it."
"I’ll prescribe some medicine to restore your vitality, martial energy, and stamina…"
Lei Jun pulled out a few small boxes from his pocket.
"No need. I’ve got my own. These should do."
He thought to himself: This way, my insurance premium might go down next time.
The medic raised an eyebrow, smirking inwardly. These three poor kids—trying to squeeze every last drop of profit from them? Tough luck.
Moments later, the referee approached. First, he checked on Zhang Yu’s condition. Then, he turned to Bai Zhenzhen:
"Are you ready for the third-place Arena match against Song Hailong?"
Bai Zhenzhen shook her head.
"No. That brute’s a living tank—his style is too oppressive for me."
A few seconds later, the final standings of the Martial Arts Competition were confirmed:
1st: Zhang Yu
2nd: Le Mulan
3rd: Song Hailong
4th: Bai Zhenzhen
On the sidelines, Le Mulan had already recovered and regained her mobility. After a brief rest, Zhang Yu, Le Mulan, and Song Hailong stepped onto the podium to receive their medals.
Only Zhang Yu wore a radiant smile. The other two looked as grim as if they’d swallowed a lemon.
From the audience stands, cheers and jeers erupted in waves.
A Hongta High School student, seething with envy, shouted:
"This Zhang Yu has insane talent! He learns martial arts just by watching others. So when he watches, he should pay—otherwise, he’s a martial thief!"
A Ziyun Person wailed:
"This Zhang Yu actually rode on top of our sacred #1! I never even dared dream of such a thing! It hurts worse than death!"
A Bailong High School student sighed:
"Winners stand. Losers kneel. Never thought we’d see a scholar from Songyang High School worthy of a knee."
To be “worthy of a knee” in Bailong High School was the highest honor for any top scorer.
At the podium, Lei Jun beamed, pulling out his phone to take photos.
Bai Zhenzhen snapped a few shots, then started filming, already plotting how to monetize the competition’s fame with brand deals.
She turned to the three on stage.
"Smile! You’re all scowling—looks terrible. Zhang Yu, I’m not blaming you, but ease up on the smugness."
Lei Jun added:
"After the competition, I’ll treat you all to dinner. You can ask Qian Shen and the others if they’re free—let’s decide what to eat."
---
At Ziyun High School’s rest area, Le Mulan walked back slowly, holding her silver second-place medal.
Her uniform, once stained with blood from the fight, had been replaced.
The rage, frustration, and bitterness that had consumed her after the match had vanished. Now she looked calm—almost indifferent—as if nothing had happened.
But when she saw Lian Tianji kneeling on the floor, she narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Get up. I’m withdrawing the bench punishment."
Lian Tianji blinked, surprised. He’d never seen Le Mulan retract her words before.
Le Mulan said simply:
"I lost. What right do I have to punish you?"
"Would you have me become your bench too? Or worse—become Zhang Yu’s?"
She glanced toward Zhang Yu’s direction, her voice tinged with complex emotion:
"Your loss wasn’t entirely your fault. That Zhang Yu… he’s truly strong."
"I still don’t understand why he refuses to earn more money. But he’s shown me my own weaknesses."
In her mind, a training plan for close-combat combat was already taking shape.
At first, she blamed her own overconfidence—she’d underestimated him, assumed a quick dodge would be enough. But after reviewing the match, she realized: he hadn’t just exploited a tiny flaw. He had anticipated it, and had the skill and strategy to tear it open.
She also thought of her aversion to Zhang Yu’s blood.
“Just… a little exposure to the poor…”
The thought made her grimace. A deep, instinctive discomfort gripped her—a spiritual unease.
“This clashes with my cultivation path. Changing mindset isn’t easy.”
Then she remembered: she’d already added Zhang Yu as a friend.
“Maybe… I should start by just… scrolling through his social feed?”
Lian Tianji grinned as he stood.
"This loss will make us stronger. Next time we meet Zhang Yu, we’ll beat him."
"Next time?" Le Mulan said. "You mean the Physical Fitness Competition? Even if we beat him there, it won’t feel satisfying."
Lian Tianji paused. Then nodded slowly.
"You’re right. His Physical Strength Level is still so far behind. In two months, the gap will only grow."
"Unless he joins Songyang’s competition team… and enters that so-called special training program…"
---
At Bailong High School’s rest area, Chu Qiuhé stirred awake and sighed.
"After reviewing the match, I finally understand just how terrifying Zhang Yu is. Among all first-year students in Songyang City, there’s probably no one who can match him in real combat skill."
A Bailong student scoffed:
"Overblown. It was just because Hailong sweated too much—he slipped. Just spray some antiperspirant before the next match."
Chu Qiuhé pointed at him.
"What’s your score? Your ranking? Kneel first, then talk."
When the boy knelt, Chu Qiuhé continued:
"You don’t understand Zhang Yu’s danger until you’ve faced him in person."
Just then, Song Hailong returned. The moment he entered, the room fell silent.
He casually tossed his bronze medal into his bag and walked away without a glance back.
To others, third place was a trophy. To Song Hailong, it was a disgrace.
His phone rang. A mature male voice came through:
"I watched your match. The two ahead of you weren’t stronger than you. You lost to someone weaker."
"Father is disappointed in you."
Song Hailong flinched.
"I… I was careless, brother…"
"No excuses," the voice said coldly. "Father hates excuses for failure."
Song Hailong took a deep breath.
"I’m sorry."
The 2.5-meter giant, who could crush steel with a glance, now looked like a child trembling under a teacher’s scolding.
After hanging up, he turned his gaze toward Zhang Yu—eyes burning with silent fury.
He had lost this time. But he would make it up—on his own terms. With the power of wealth.
He strode toward Songyang High School’s rest area, his massive frame casting a long shadow over Zhang Yu.
Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen tensed.
Song Hailong stared down at them, voice icy:
"How much?"
"Pay me to train with you in sparring. What’s your rate?"
As a true millionaire, losing to a rival meant one thing: hire them. Pay them. Train until you could obliterate them.
Defeated by whom? Pay them. Learn everything they know.
When Song Hailong spoke, Bai Zhenzhen and Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up—Song Hailong suddenly seemed even more imposing.
Zhang Yu cleared his throat.
"I’m expensive. And busy. I’ll need to check my schedule."
Bai Zhenzhen nodded eagerly.
"Come on! I’m Zhang Yu’s agent. You can talk to me about the money!"
"And I’m also a top-four competitor and his sparring coach. That final fight against Le Mulan? I coached him. Want to hire me too?"
After adding both Bai Zhenzhen and Zhang Yu as contacts, Song Hailong said:
"Work out the price between you. But one thing:"
He looked at Zhang Yu’s thin frame.
"Your Physical Strength Level needs improvement. Fast."
"Because I’m getting stronger. Faster. I won’t wait for you."
"If your stats are too low, I’ll crush you with a single push. Then there’s no point in sparring."
As Song Hailong walked away, Zhang Yu knew he was right.
Whether for the money, the upcoming Physical Fitness Competition, or future college admissions—his strength needed to rise.
“I have to catch up to Song Hailong… to Le Mulan…”
Moments later, Zhao Tianxing, Qian Shen, and He Dayou joined them from the audience stands.
Zhao Tianxing beamed:
"Too awesome, Yu! I snapped your Arena photos—check them out!"
Qian Shen sighed:
"Competitions are now on another level. A perfect 100 in martial combat can’t even capture your true achievement."
Bai Zhenzhen asked:
"Old Lei’s treating us to dinner. Anyone in?"
Zhao Tianxing said:
"Whatever. But keep it healthy—like boiled chicken."
Bai Zhenzhen nodded, jotting it down: "Zhao Tianxing: any meal, but healthy."
He Dayou frowned:
"I won’t eat at places that aren’t expensive enough. If it’s cheap, I’m not going."
Bai Zhenzhen wrote: "He Dayou: won’t go."
Qian Shen added:
"I know a good restaurant. I’ll pay for the drinks."
Bai Zhenzhen noted: "Qian Shen: covers drinks."
---
In a quiet restaurant downtown, Zhang Yu stepped in and said:
"Got king crabs? Ten of them."
Lei Jun’s face darkened. You’re gonna bankrupt me, right?
Qian Shen interjected:
"This place doesn’t serve seafood. And seafood isn’t nutritious anyway. They specialize in authentic Pre-made Meals—no extra seasonings, just the pure taste of the ingredients."
"Each dish has over 10,000 calories of clean energy. I eat here after training."
Lei Jun silently nodded. Finally, someone who understands a teacher’s budget.
Qian Shen turned to the waiter:
"Any Demon Beast Meat Pre-made Meals? Today’s guests are top students from Songyang High School. Any dietary supplements?"
Lei Jun sighed. Qian Shen, you don’t get it. I’m not a Daoist instructor. I can’t afford this.
He stepped in:
"I only brought 6,000. If we need more, we’ll all have to wash dishes together."
A moment later, they sat down, raising their Beast Protein Milk glasses.
"Cheers!"
After all—these were healthy high schoolers and a teacher. Only nutritious, wholesome drinks would do.
Besides, it was nearly time to go back to school. No one wanted to risk a hangover or sluggishness before class.
(End of Chapter)
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