https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-82-Cultivation-Technique-Cultivation-Thank-You-Honorary-Patron-Meng-Yeyue-/13686507/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-84-Level-10-Part-Time-Work-Thanks-to-Alliance-Lord-Dofurangming-/13686509/
Chapter 83: Competition Spot (Repaying Monthly Ticket Loan 2)
Songyang High School.
Inside the classroom.
The campus life remained as calm as ever, students’ academic enthusiasm just as high as usual.
The Chinese teacher droned on at the front, utterly invisible as she lectured over the textbook. Below, students were either practicing martial forms, meditating, taking medicinal supplements, or—some already engaged in actual combat training.
This was the atmosphere of a top-tier high school.
Freshmen might have still held back in the first semester, clinging to old habits from middle school. But now that the school year had been underway for half a year, everyone had finally shed their masks—revealing their true identities as Dao scholars in the making.
The Chinese teacher took it in stride. After all, whether it was martial cultivation, meditation, or even injecting spirit essence, these were all far more important than her humble literature class. As long as they didn’t start fighting her, she didn’t care.
She knew, from personal experience, that general education teachers at Songyang High were already among the more respected staff. Her former classmate who now taught at Bailong High School was routinely used by school leadership to scold students: “If you don’t get into a good university, you’ll end up just like the high school Chinese teacher—nothing to show for it.”
Thinking this, the teacher sighed inwardly.
“If it weren’t for the sect’s regulations and the city government’s mandates, they’d probably have cut general education classes down to nothing by now.”
Just then, a phone buzzed from somewhere in the classroom.
She finally couldn’t help but open her mouth to chide:
“Class, please set your phones to vibration during Chinese class. Don’t disturb others’ self-study.”
But when she looked up, her eyes locked onto the culprit—and froze.
It was Zhang Yu.
Though just a lowly general education teacher, she’d heard of this student’s reputation far too often to ignore.
The “High School Devil,” “Songyang’s Scandal,” “Impure Root,” “Soft-Food Eater”—the nicknames were legion.
She’d even heard he’d won first place in yesterday’s Martial Arts Competition. Today, he’d arrived two minutes late, and not a single soul dared to scold him.
Knowing he had a wealthy Bailong heiress as a patron, someone who openly defied the student council—how could she possibly reprimand him for a vibrating phone?
She immediately lowered her head, pretending she hadn’t noticed a thing.
Zhang Yu, meanwhile, had been cultivating his Dao Heart when he grabbed his phone. He checked and found the Martial Arts Competition prize money had already been credited.
“Not much, but it arrived fast.”
Five thousand yuan had come in—but after paying back Zhang Pianpian four thousand, and clearing the meal debts he’d owed Qian Shen and Zhao Tianxing, Zhang Yu’s account was left with barely over ten thousand yuan.
He knew Bai Zhenzhen’s fourth-place prize was also one thousand yuan. Her balance was probably about the same.
But as he thought ahead to next month—interest on his loan, rent, utilities—his stomach twisted with anxiety.
“And I’ll need to buy a new Weighted Suit. My daily food expenses will go up for the next two months of body cultivation…”
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how many ways money slipped through his fingers.
“At least Song Hailong’s paying me something soon.”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the classroom, Bai Zhenzhen received the same notification: prize money credited.
And along with it, a message from Zhang Pianpian.
> Zhang Pianpian: You don’t use Spirit Root often enough. You’re not fully skilled yet. If you had, you could’ve gone further in the Martial Arts Competition.
>
> Zhang Pianpian: From now on, just rent Spirit Root every day. I’ll cover the cost. Say I’m investing in you.
>
> Zhang Pianpian: Evolutionary-grade Spirit Root—its power grows the more you use it.
Bai Zhenzhen read the message and flinched.
“She… saw I had Spirit Root?”
“Is she trying to cover for me?”
She knew her own situation better than anyone. Every night after school, she secretly used Spirit Root to train. But ever since she’d discovered its existence, she’d lived in fear—afraid that if anyone found out, she’d be swarmed by banks wanting to seize it, gamblers trying to sell it, scammers demanding ransom, or worse—wealthy elites who’d want to own her.
So when Zhang Pianpian called it out so casually, Bai Zhenzhen felt a primal panic rise—like someone had finally discovered her lifelong secret, the one she’d buried deep since childhood.
But then she remembered: Zhang Pianpian had protected her.
She’d trusted her with her fake-rich identity.
She’d scored 699 on the exam.
And she was Zhang Yu’s sister.
So slowly, Bai Zhenzhen calmed.
“Zhang Pianpian… she’s someone I can trust.”
Then another thought struck her.
“If I can use her name as an excuse… I could rent Spirit Root every day, right here at school. No more hiding.”
“That’d give me at least ten extra hours of training daily.”
“Next competition won’t be like this—no more holding back.”
She recalled the Martial Arts Competition.
She’d finished fourth—but the entire time, she’d felt suffocated, like she’d been flexing her muscles only to have them snap mid-strain.
Because her stats lagged behind the top three schools.
Because her bank balance couldn’t match theirs.
She’d hesitated, held back, and in the end, had to concede.
But now? With the ability to train openly every day?
She felt a surge of confidence.
“This time, the spotlight was all on Yu. But next time… it’ll be me.”
“Sure, having a son win first is nice. But nothing beats crushing him under my heel—then claiming the title myself.”
---
Physical Education Class.
The air was thick with sweat and the sharp, pungent scent of medicinal herbs—classic Songyang-style Dao energy.
Clanging metal, grunts, and groans filled the gym. Students were pushing their bodies to the limit in pursuit of spiritual cultivation.
But someone nearby couldn’t help but glance over at Bai Zhenzhen, sensing the faint ripple of Spirit Energy in the air, their thoughts racing.
“She gets to rent Spirit Root every day? Zhang Pianpian really spoils her.”
“I could love Bailong too. I want to be Zhang Pianpian’s dog.”
“If Bai Zhenzhen’s her dog, she gets Spirit Root daily. What if I become Bai Zhenzhen’s dog? Could she lend me even an hour?”
Meanwhile, Zhang Yu wasn’t grinding away like the others. Instead, he slipped into a quiet corner room to study the Beilong Fanyue Hand he’d just learned yesterday.
After switching the Feather Scroll’s Specialization to this grappling technique, the 24-hour cooldown hadn’t expired yet. So for now, this was the only skill he could rapidly improve.
“Might as well practice while I can. I’ll switch back to Chisui Hunyuanqi tonight when the cooldown ends.”
Zhang Yu’s hands blurred into streaks of motion as he began the form.
Beilong Fanyue Hand – Level 2 (4/20)
A purely brute-force martial art, this style had eighteen moves—each one short, brutal, and instantaneous.
Each technique was designed to snap bones, break joints, throw opponents, and lock them down in a flash.
Grapples were meant to be fast and merciless.
On average, each move took less than a second.
Before he knew it, Zhang Yu had completed the full sequence.
Recalling his past training in combat styles, he sighed in reflection:
“Real combat techniques are always simple and fast. That’s why you can learn and master them so quickly.”
He understood now why he’d been able to not only learn Beilong Fanyue Hand—but surpass Song Hailong’s version—inside the Arena.
A few minutes later, his mind flared with insight.
Dozens of new experiences flooded in.
Beilong Fanyue Hand – Level 3
“If I keep this pace, I should hit Level 10 today.”
---
While Zhang Yu trained in secret, Coach Wang Hai had gathered Qian Shen, He Dayou, Zhao Tianxing, and four other students.
“School plans to select a group of promising freshmen for the Sports Competition Team,” he announced.
“Are you interested?”
Before anyone could answer, Qian Shen shot out, “Just us five? What about Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen?”
Wang Hai replied, “The school leadership believes they need more time to develop.”
Qian Shen frowned. “They got first and second in the monthly exams. They need more time? But we’re being selected?”
Wang Hai couldn’t say it was due to the student council. So he offered another reason.
“Because they’re too poor.”
The five students blinked.
“Can’t afford the team’s supplementary fees or nutrition expenses,” Wang Hai continued. “How can they join the competition team?”
The others nodded in understanding.
Even Qian Shen fell silent.
He remembered how Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen had once borrowed money from him for dinner.
After admitting the five, Wang Hai called Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen aside.
“Your Sports Competition application was rejected again,” he said, regret in his eyes.
“You know why. You two understand.”
Wang Hai had initially thought Zhang Yu was a Golden Core Disciple. But after Zhang Pianpian arrived at Songyang High, stood up to the student council, and defended Zhang Yu—Wang Hai was no longer certain.
Still, regardless of who Zhang Yu’s master was, Wang Hai could feel the boy’s potential. He was meant to compete.
He sighed internally.
“Too bad the student council won’t give them a chance.”
Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen both understood.
They knew exactly who was behind it.
Wang Hai added, “But you’re not completely out. If, within a month, your physical scores stay in the top five, you can represent the school in the competition.”
Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen exchanged glances, puzzled.
Seeing their confusion, Wang Hai explained:
“The school has already selected five students for the Sports Competition Team.”
“If, in one month, you can outperform them in physical rankings, you’ll earn your spot.”
Now they understood.
The student council had chosen five students for elite training—expecting them to dominate the competition, and leave Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen behind.
Wang Hai watched as fire sparked in their eyes.
But inside, he sighed again.
As Songyang High’s top physical education coach, he knew the truth.
“This ‘one-month challenge’? It’s just a pretext. A way to legally exclude Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen—so even Zhang Pianpian can’t argue.”
“Given their current progress, reaching Physical Strength Level 2.1—or maybe 2.2—by then would be their peak.”
“But the competition team? With their Special Training Program, they’ll hit 3.0 or higher in just one month.”
“It’s not about talent. It’s about Dao tech. If Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen had access to that program, their gains would be even greater.”
And that was why Wang Hai knew—once they were rejected from the Special Training Program, they were already out of the race.
They’d never catch up.
They’d never make the team.
They’d never compete.
---
Daoists,
Another chapter repaid on the monthly ticket loan.
Keep borrowing!
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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