https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-83-Competition-Spot-Repaying-Monthly-Ticket-Loan-2-/13686508/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-85-Part-Time-Social-Media-Thanks-to-Patron-Cruzer-/13686510/
Chapter 84: Level 10, Part-Time Work (Thanks to Alliance Lord "Dofurangming")
Behind the teaching building, in the Small Garden, Zhang Yu was calmly practicing the Beilong Fanyue Hand, each movement flowing with the force of wind and tiger.
Suddenly, a teacher burst out from the side, eyes sharp, demanding, “Which grade and class are you in? What’s your name? Why are you here during class time? Are you skipping?”
Zhang Yu remained calm. “I’m Zhang Yu from Grade 10, Class 1. I came out during math class to train my martial arts.”
Hearing his name, the teacher’s stern expression immediately softened. Then, upon learning he’d skipped math—a subject so universally dreaded—the man’s face lost all seriousness.
Skip math? Seriously?
You haven’t even skipped math to train in the Dao arts—how can you be considered a top student at Songyang High School?
After double-checking the schedule and confirming Class 1, Grade 10 was indeed in math class, the teacher nodded. “There are 27 minutes left. Make sure you get back before the bell. Don’t miss your next class.”
Once the teacher left, Zhang Yu resumed his silent cultivation.
Beilong Fanyue Hand – Level 9 (89/90)
He hadn’t practiced in the classroom because the progress of this martial art was too rapid—too conspicuous.
With the final move completed, the Beilong Fanyue Hand instantly surged to Level 10.
A flood of martial knowledge, training memories, and instinctive understanding surged through Zhang Yu’s mind—his mastery of the technique, of grappling, of throws, all reached a new peak.
At the same time, he felt the full effect of Level 10.
Now, when he moved, he could feel his own center of gravity.
And he realized—he could also sense his opponent’s center. With a single precise technique from the Beilong Fanyue Hand, he could instantly destabilize it, sending them sprawling.
Got it. Trip anyone who dares to stand in my way.
Pure, real combat art.
And strangely… it meshes perfectly with my Wuji Yunshou, Bumu Yinfa…
White spiritual energy erupted from his palms as Zhang Yu, now at Level 10 in both Wuji Yunshou and Beilong Fanyue Hand, felt a sudden insight: he could combine the two.
If I use Wu Xiang Yun’gang to replace raw hand strength, I can perform grappling and throws from a distance.
An epiphany struck him:
The Beilong Fanyue Hand is purely physical force—yes, but that’s not a flaw. It’s an advantage.
Because it means any powerful energy—spiritual energy, palm force, fist power—can be integrated into it later.
It’s like a vast framework, capable of holding countless combat techniques.
In that moment, Zhang Yu understood the long-term vision behind Song Hailong’s cultivation of this martial art—designed not just for immediate power, but for future growth.
Whether it was his own foresight… or the planning of his family, or even his private tutor…
…
Dinner time.
Canteen.
Every student was shoveling food into their mouths with intense focus—after all, no high school in the city, whether elite or ordinary, had students who ate slowly.
Yet beneath the usual buzz, a faint aura of resentment hung in the air.
It was the collective grudge against the canteen’s food.
Bai Zhenzhen carried her tray through the hall. Her beauty was undeniable, but her icy demeanor kept others at a distance.
As she sat down, she muttered, “Half the stalls have switched to synthetic food. The rest of the pre-made meals? All raised in price. Those bastards!”
With Luzhou Group’s rising influence, synthetic food had quietly infiltrated schools across Songyang City.
She glared at Zhao Tianxing and Qian Shen. “We must not buy synthetic food. We have to fight back—make them bleed money!”
“Is that even food for humans?”
“Who knows what they’ve added in there?”
Just then, she saw Zhang Yu walking over with a large plate of what looked like grayish porridge.
Bai Zhenzhen gasped. “Yu-zi! What are you eating? You hate synthetic food!”
Zhang Yu shrugged, unfazed. “Today’s a free trial event. Synthetic food’s on the house.”
Bai Zhenzhen stood up instantly. “I’ll see for myself how disgusting this stuff really is.”
She approached the synthetic food counter. The canteen attendant was cheerfully explaining:
“This is meat paste, vegetable paste, rice paste. Pick your flavor—mapo tofu, kung pao chicken, seafood deluxe…”
After a few minutes, Bai Zhenzhen returned with her free sample. She took one bite—and her face froze in shock.
This… is synthetic food?
Whatever Dao techniques they’d used, the taste, aroma, even the texture—was 70% to 80% identical to real pre-made meals.
She remembered the mounds of paste the attendant had scooped out—but once mixed with flavorings, they transformed: some bits felt like fatty pork, others like leafy greens, others like fish.
This was nothing like the synthetic food she’d eaten before.
Bai Zhenzhen whispered, “The Dao technology behind this… has broken through?”
Zhang Yu sighed, watching her. “Of course. Big companies don’t risk launching something that can’t compete. If they’re pushing this against real pre-made meals, they’ve got real confidence.”
“Tastes good, convenient, cheap. In the future, I bet real pre-made meal stalls will vanish from Songyang City.”
Zhao Tianxing frowned. “Then… all those pre-made food factories will shut down. People will lose their jobs.”
They ate and talked, and Zhang Yu noticed Qian Shen and Zhao Tianxing seemed troubled. He asked.
Qian Shen let out a long sigh. “We… were recruited into the Sports Competition Team. Me, Zhao Tianxing, and three other first-years. But we didn’t score as high as you guys. I feel… ashamed.”
Zhao Tianxing looked at Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen, visibly tense.
In school, joining the competition team was a social divide—enough to split even the closest friends.
If low-scoring students stole spots from high-scoring ones? That was academic betrayal—enough to spark bullying so vicious, it could end in tragedy.
Since the PE class, Zhao Tianxing had feared Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen would resent him.
Especially since he cared deeply about others’ opinions—he feared being seen as someone who’d cheated for a spot.
But Zhang Yu just smiled. “Don’t worry. We already know what happened. It was the Student Council’s fault—those backstabbing little rats.”
He then mentioned the upcoming competition.
“Let’s train separately. A month from now, we’ll compare our physical scores. Whoever wins gets to go.”
Hearing that, Qian Shen and Zhao Tianxing relaxed.
Of course. In the end, it’s still about grades.
…
After dinner, Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen left the school together, heading to the subway for Bailong High School.
Bai Zhenzhen said, “I’ve already arranged it with Song Hailong. Two days a week, two hours each time. He pays 5,000 per session—2,000 for me.”
Zhang Yu’s eyes lit up. “5,000 per session? Twice a week—that’s 10,000 a week. A month? Forty thousand! Damn, these rich people really are loaded.”
She added, “But he set a condition. If we can’t beat him in a single match during those two hours, we’re out.”
She turned to Zhang Yu. “Yu-zi… can you do it?”
Zhang Yu had beaten Song Hailong in the Martial Arts Competition—but that was thanks to the out-of-bounds rule.
If his Physical Strength Level couldn’t catch up, and Song Hailong pulled further ahead… winning would be impossible.
“Of course I can,” Zhang Yu said confidently. “Xiao Song just relies on his thick skin and brute strength. Once my Physical Strength Level catches up, he won’t win a single round.”
He smirked. “But what about you, Zhenzhen? Can you handle it?”
Bai Zhenzhen scoffed, patting her stomach. “I borrowed money from my adoptive mother. I’m renting a Spirit Root every day. My progress… you might be shocked, Yu-zi.”
Zhang Yu’s curiosity flared. “What kind of Spirit Root did you rent? Can I try it too?”
Bai Zhenzhen frowned. “Try it?”
Zhang Yu grinned. “We’re brothers. You can’t just keep your Spirit Root all to yourself.”
She hesitated. “I’ll… think about it.”
Can I really lend it to him? she wondered. Is it even possible?
Zhang Yu sighed. “So stingy. I’ve lent you my 100,000-value Lushu for weeks—multiple times.”
Bai Zhenzhen snapped. “Don’t remind me! You just let me touch it—never even let me tap it!”
Zhang Yu groaned. “I’m afraid you’ll accidentally press the wrong button and bankrupt me. But… how about now? Let me lend it to you on the way.”
They boarded the subway, and this time, luck favored them—two seats were free.
Zhang Yu, under Ritual’s relentless urging, trained his cultivation method nonstop, pushing his Dao Heart higher.
Bai Zhenzhen leaned against him, curious fingers exploring the Lushu.
After thirty minutes, they arrived at Bailong High School.
Presenting the monthly pass Song Hailong had arranged, they entered the designated training room.
“Yu-zi, look—so many people are kneeling in class. What’s going on?”
“Who knows. Maybe it’s a Bai Long tradition.”
Inside, Song Hailong was already warming up.
Seeing Zhang Yu arrive, his eyes sparkled. He pointed at the ground.
“Lie down.”
(End of Chapter)
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