Chapter 202: Gu-raising Jar, Ideological and Political Education! Slacking Off Back to Qi Ming

Chapter 202: The Gu-Cultivation Jar, Ideological Education! Slacking Off and Returning to the Morning Star

Within the bamboo grove, the wind continued to rustle.

Yet this breeze, which should have been refreshing to the soul, now fell upon Qin Feng's ears and transformed into a sharp howl, as if countless wronged ghosts were weeping, demanding answers.

Yu Han's words were like blades forged from ten-thousand-year-old profound ice; sentence by sentence, word by word, they laid bare the bloody, freezing skeleton of reality right before his eyes.

"When Sun Chantang helped cure your illness, when you accepted the Starry Sky Colossus Type-II Genetic Serum, when you accepted the Ten Complete Hands, why didn't you refuse then?"

A single counterquestion, like a heavy sledgehammer, slammed violently against Qin Feng's chest.

He could not refute the logic contained within it—he had enjoyed the empire's most elite resource allocation, and these resources themselves represented a form of selection and injustice.

But deep in his heart, that simple morality rooted in the Morning Star, rooted in the Qin family, and rooted in what countless comrades-in-arms had taught him with their lives, was roaring frantically.

"This is not the same."

Qin Feng's voice was hoarse, yet extraordinarily firm.

He raised his head, looking straight into Yu Han's deep, starry eyes, within which there was not the slightest flicker of wavering.

"If accepting the Ten Complete Hands, or accepting any top-tier resource, requires the lives of innocent compatriots to pave the way, or means allowing traitors of the empire to slaughter our people abroad, then I would rather have never stepped into the martial path in this life!"

His voice suddenly rose, like a clap of thunder exploding in the quiet bamboo grove, "Back then, when Master Sun helped purge my illness, he told me with his own lips to embark on the martial path to protect the human race!

It was not so I would accept this evil way of 'feeding' geniuses with the lives of our own people!

Instructor Yu Han, you are using sophistry! I want to see Lord Zhou Xiong!

I want to ask him to his face, whose order is this exactly!

Is the glory of the Ultramarines Chapter, the glory of the empire, built upon the white bones of our own compatriots?!"

Qin Feng's emotions, like a volcano that had been suppressed for ten thousand years, erupted violently at this moment.

This was a desecration.

A total desecration of everything he believed in, and of his martial will forged through blood and fire!

"..."

Yu Han fell silent.

Looking at the disciple before him who resembled a furious lion, and looking at the flame in his eyes—a flame so pure it was blinding, unblemished by time and slaughter—a distant and bitter resonance actually stirred within his heart.

Once upon a time, he himself...

Only after a long while did Yu Han suppress the turbulence in his heart, using an even colder, more indisputable tone to continue playing the role of the spokesperson for that cruel order.

"Qin Feng, put away your immature emotions.

You must understand that the empire spares no effort, and spares no cost, in cultivating a supreme genius like you."

He extended a single finger to perform a precise calculation.

"Let me break down the math for you."

"If you can slay the demon blessed by Khorne, you will gain immense benefits, allowing you to walk much further in the future; if you become a Black Hole-level powerhouse in the future, you can shelter all of humanity across an entire galaxy, slay countless alien races, and indirectly save even more compatriots.

And the Black Hole-level is merely the starting point for a genius like you."

Yu Han's voice paused, giving Qin Feng a moment to breathe and think, before he threw down the cruelest counterweight.

"Yet because we, at a strategic level, are temporarily allowing Shi Dang—this 'pawn'—to run rampant in the frontier sectors, according to the precise deductions of big data models, the direct or indirect death toll will not exceed a maximum of three million."

"Three million, versus a future guardian of the human race whose starting point is the Black Hole-level.

Qin Feng, now you tell me, which carries more weight?"

Yu Han's gaze was like a knife, piercing straight into the depths of Qin Feng's soul.

"The empire, under certain specific circumstances, will personally nurture, or rather 'free-range,' demons.

And the free-ranged demons will turn into the nourishment for our chapter's absolute top geniuses.

Using a controllable demon to catalyze an inestimable hero.

This is one of the iron laws throughout history that the empire concluded after countless years of bloody warfare against Chaos and the myriad races.

This is also the true purpose for the existence of the empire's frontier regions—it is a whetstone, a selection ground, a... jar for cultivating Gu."

Qin Feng fell completely silent.

His tall frame actually trembled slightly at this moment.

Not out of fear, but because of a massive impact stemming from the collapse of his worldview.

The steadfast state of mind he took pride in developed countless fractures before this set of cold, precise, and seemingly unarguable "Imperial Truths."

He could not refute it.

From a perspective of pure rationality and utility maximization, Yu Han's logic held true.

Three million, to a vast empire measured in light-years and counted by star systems, was less impactful than a cold digit on a battle report.

And the strategic value of a Black Hole-level powerhouse was indeed inestimable.

But...

After a long time, Qin Feng spoke with great difficulty, each word seemingly squeezed from between his teeth: "Then what about our human compatriots who are sacrificed by the Chaos demons, those who make up that number of three million?"

"In this cold and cruel universe, we firmly believe, and must firmly believe—there are only the interests of the human race as a whole, and no gains or losses of individual entities."

Yu Han's voice grew even colder, yet within that chill, there was an almost imperceptible, deeply buried grief.

He did not seem to be speaking to Qin Feng, but rather announcing something to himself, to that buried past.

"To be born on the frontier means having the readiness to sacrifice oneself for the empire at any time.

This is their destiny, and it is their glory.

Sacrificing a small portion of the human race in exchange for the greater interest of all humanity is well worth it."

"What if the ones sacrificed were your close friends?!"

Qin Feng's interrogation, like a red-hot branding iron, seared violently against Yu Han's most sensitive nerve.

"What if among those three million compatriots, there were your family members?!

Your parents, your best friends, your mentor?!

Would you still think it is well worth it?! Instructor Yu Han!"

"Buzz—!"

Within Yu Han's mind, it felt as though a star exploded instantly.

This sentence of Qin Feng's was like a key, a key drenched in blood and tears, brutally unlocking the door in the depths of his memory that he had sealed away with layers of endless regret and pain.

His pupils contracted violently in an instant, shrinking into dangerous pinpricks.

For the first time, that eternally unchanging, icy countenance twisted violently.

He seemed to see a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, to see burning planets, and to see countless familiar faces turning to ash amid wailing.

A single scalding tear slipped uncontrollably from the corner of his eye, yet the moment it fell, it was instantly vaporized by the terrifying psionic energy escaping from his body, leaving behind not a single trace.

By this soul-piercing question from Qin Feng, he was left utterly speechless.

Just at this moment of swords drawn and bows bent, when the atmosphere had frozen to its utmost—

Thud, thud, thud—

A heavy footfall, like a mountain collapsing, slowly sounded from deep within the bamboo grove.

Each step seemed to tread upon everyone’s heart, making the very air congeal.

A figure, even taller and more imposing than Qin Feng, walked out slowly.

He wore the standard training uniform of the Ultramarines Chapter; beneath the black fabric, the terrifying contours of muscles forged from divine metal were visible.

His face was square-jawed, his gaze majestic—he was a Black Hole-level powerhouse, Captain of the Ultramarines Company—Zhou Xiong.

In stark contrast to the gentle, even somewhat lazy attitude he had shown in previous meetings, Zhou Xiong now exuded an iron-blooded authority born of ten thousand battles and the power of life and death over billions.

His eyes did not look at Yu Han but pressed down heavily on Qin Feng.

“You’re not convinced? Then go and become stronger. Strong enough that your will becomes the Empire’s will; strong enough that your words become the rules everyone must obey.”

Zhou Xiong’s voice was not loud, yet it contained an absolute power that brooked no argument.

Every syllable fell like a decree of law, branding itself deep into Qin Feng’s soul.

“You’re not convinced? Then go and change things.

You don’t want the Empire to nurture geniuses this way? Then go to the Myriad Races Battlefield, to the depths of the Warp, and personally cut down countless demon heads and alien god heads. Use their corpses to pave a brighter path for the Empire and for humanity!”

“Until you have the strength to change the status quo, obediently follow the rules!

Put away your ridiculous and childish emotions. Stop throwing a tantrum here like a weaned infant!”

Zhou Xiong’s gaze suddenly turned extremely severe, like twin lightning bolts tearing through the starry sky.

“Now, go back! Train!”

The last four words exploded like a military order, like a divine oracle.

“Yes.”

Qin Feng bit his lip so hard it drew blood.

He felt an unprecedented humiliation—not because of Zhou Xiong’s reprimand, but because of his own weakness.

Yes, Zhou Xiong was right.

Not convinced? Then go change things.

Without strength, you don’t even have the right to shout.

He gave Zhou Xiong a deep look, then glanced at Yu Han, who seemed trapped in some painful memory. Finally, without a word, he clenched his fists, turned, and walked away resolutely.

Only when Qin Feng’s figure had completely disappeared at the end of the bamboo grove did the oppressive atmosphere slowly ease.

Yu Han let out a long sigh, breaking free from his painful memories. He wiped the corner of his eye—where no tears actually existed—looked at Zhou Xiong, and forced a bitter smile.

“Lord Zhou, you’ve come.

The Empire mostly uses condemned interstellar pirates and heavy criminals to nurture Chaos Demons, on specific prison planets for ‘cocoon breeding.’

We… we’re deceiving Qin Feng.

Isn’t it… too early to subject him to such harsh ideological education now?”

Zhou Xiong turned around. The suffocating authority instantly dissipated, replaced by a sarcastic, mocking tone.

“Too early? Deceiving? What nonsense?!

If we don’t give him ideological lessons now, are we supposed to wait until he’s wearing Ultramarines power armor, becomes a hero in the spotlight, and then, because he suffers some minor grievance outside, he just quits on the spot, comes crying back to his alma mater to play the victim—and then you give him ideological education?”

“Cough… cough, cough, cough.”

Yu Han was choked by Zhou Xiong’s words, coughing repeatedly. His handsome face flushed red, and he wore an awkward smile uglier than tears.

These words were practically a slap in his face.

Zhou Xiong glanced at him sideways, snorted coldly, and continued his merciless attack.

“Yu Han, do you think I was only scolding him and not you?”

“You bastard! ‘Not convinced? Then go change things’—I said those same words to you back then!

And what did you do?

You hid back in Canaan Starry Sky Martial Arts University, hid in this ivory tower as an instructor, and played the victim for all these years—what does that mean?!

A genius once hailed as the ‘Divine Spear,’ and this is all the ambition you have?

Don’t make me look down on you!”

Zhou Xiong pointed his finger almost at Yu Han’s nose, cursing loudly, with none of the demeanor of a Black Hole-level powerhouse, more like an older brother disappointed in his younger sibling.

Being scolded to this extent, Yu Han instead seemed to shed all his disguises and burdens. He stiffened his neck, shamelessly hardened his attitude, and actually became defiant.

“So what if I play the victim? I like it! Besides, even the Chosen One is going back to play the victim—it’s only natural for me, a has-been ‘Divine Spear,’ to do the same, isn’t it?”

He jerked his chin toward the direction Qin Feng had left, with an expression that said, “See, I told you so.” “Just watch—that kid is burning with rage inside and has nowhere to vent it. I bet he’s already planning to go back to his hometown on Qiming Star.”

“Hmph.”

Zhou Xiong let out a heavy snort, but the anger in his eyes subsided considerably.

He clasped his hands behind his back, gazed into the distance, and his tone softened.

“When Qin Feng stops playing the victim, when he fully digests this matter, you get your ass back to the Company and report for duty.”

Hearing this, Yu Han’s body trembled violently.

Zhou Xiong didn’t look at him and continued, “…Regarding your case back then, the final verdict from the Empire’s Supreme Tribunal has come down.

You are innocent. Wan Feiyu is guilty of a capital crime.

He has been listed as the Empire’s highest-priority fugitive. It has been confirmed that he fled to the outer star regions of the Myriad Races Battlefield. He hasn’t been caught yet, but his general area of activity has been locked down. He won’t be jumping around for much longer.”

“Really… really?!”

For the first time, Yu Han’s voice trembled violently.

He had waited for this result for far too long—so long that he had almost given up.

“Mm.”

Zhou Xiong gave an affirmative grunt. “The Empire’s Tribunal values efficiency, but a major case like yours takes time to investigate thoroughly. You’ve waited long enough.”

“Good! Good!”

Yu Han’s eyes suddenly blazed with a terrifying brilliance. The sharpness and edge that had been suppressed for decades seemed to return in full force. “When Qin Feng comes back, I’ll report for duty!”

“Mm.”

Zhou Xiong’s gaze seemed to pierce through the endless void.

The corner of his mouth curled into a helpless yet amused smile.

“That kid… he really did run back to his hometown on Qiming Star. You little rascals all think the same way—when you’re wronged, your first instinct is to run home.”

His words were filled with the fond, exasperated indulgence of an elder toward the younger generation.

The bamboo grove fell silent once more.

Morning Star.

Home.

When Qin Feng’s body materialized within the enveloping beam of the teleportation light at the public transit point of Seagull Community, a long-absent gust of air, mingled with the fragrance of earth and the crisp scent of flora, instantly flooded his lungs.

The gravity of this planet, the oxygen concentration of this world, everything felt so familiar, so perfectly suited, as if custom-made for his very biology.

Having remained too long within the rigorously calibrated, ether-rich cultivation environments of the Canaan Starry Skies Martial Arts University, a sudden return to this mother planet, whose vitality index was utterly unremarkable, should have elicited a faint sense of thinness and discomfort, yet all Qin Feng felt was an boundless serenity and release.

He divested himself of the combat uniform that symbolized his elite status within the Dauntless Warband, changing instead into a set of ordinary casual clothes purchased at random from the commercial district of the Morning Star capital.

He withdrew every trace of his outward aura, gathering that terrifying power capable of making mountains and seas tremble, concealing it entirely within the depths of his supreme primordial apertures and his four limbs and hundred bones.

At this moment, as he walked along the familiar tree-lined avenue of Seagull Community, he looked like nothing more than a tall, composed young man, no different from the hurried residents bustling around him.

Only, deep within those eyes that had witnessed too much creation and destruction, too much slaughter of blood and fire, the accumulated weight and vicissitudes were utterly beyond what one of his years should possess.

That confrontation with Zhou Xiong and Yu Han had been like a red-hot steel needle, thrust violently into the deepest recesses of his soul.

That cold, cruel, yet seemingly irrefutable Iron Law of the Empire had, for the first time, caused him to waver in the convictions for which he had fought and which he had striven to protect.

He was unconvinced.

But he was powerless to change it.

Zhou Xiong's words, "If you lack the strength to alter the status quo, then obey the rules," had like a resounding slap struck him down from the peak of his fury.

Yes, he was still too weak.

The Seventh-tier Mountain and Sea Realm might be a deity-like existence upon a remote living planet, but before the massive machinery of the Empire and that grand narrative measured casually by galaxies and eons, he remained as minuscule as a grain of dust.

So, he had returned.

His footsteps came to a halt, unbidden, before a familiar structure.

—The Limitless Martial Arts Arena.

Here was the true starting point of his martial path.

That familiar signboard, having weathered decades of wind and rain, had been replaced by a more modern alloy material, but those three sweeping, dragon-like characters remained exactly as they were in his memory.

Upon the electronic bulletin board at the arena's entrance, a recruitment notice was scrolling by.

[The Limitless Martial Arts Arena (Seagull Community Branch) is seeking martial arts instructors of all levels, with excellent benefits; interested parties please step inside for detailed inquiries.]

Qin Feng’s gaze lingered upon the notice for a brief moment.

A thought arose from the depths of his heart without warning.

He wished to stay here for a period of time.

Merely to change his state of mind.

He stepped inside.

The internal layout of the arena had not changed much, though all the training equipment had been upgraded to new generations, and the photographs of outstanding students hanging on the walls had long since been replaced by unfamiliar young faces.

At the reception desk sat a youth who appeared to be only in his early twenties, looking somewhat bored as he stared at his personal terminal.

"Hello, I am here to apply for an instructor position."

Qin Feng’s voice was very calm.

"Oh, hello."

The youth looked up, his eyes brightened upon seeing Qin Feng, and he rose to greet him warmly, "Please, take a seat. We have vacancies here for instructor positions from tiers one through three, so you see..."

"Hall Master Sun Chantang, has he... ever returned?"

Qin Feng interrupted him, asking the question that concerned him most.

The youth froze for a moment, seemingly recalling this somewhat distant name.

"The old Hall Master Sun... I’ve heard from the seniors in the arena that about thirty-some years ago, the old master returned once, stayed for just a few days, and left again."

Over thirty years ago.

Qin Feng calculated silently in his heart; that was precisely when he himself had been taught the mere basics of the Ten Perfection Hands by Hall Master Sun.

"Ah, I see."

Qin Feng nodded, pulling his thoughts back, "I will register."

The youth pulled up the application form on his terminal and asked, "Very well, may I have your name and martial arts tier?"

"Name, Qin Feng."

"Strength, Seventh-tier Mountain and Sea Martial Artist."

Qin Feng’s tone was as calm as if he were saying, "I had a bowl of noodles for lunch today."

"Alright, Qin Feng... Seventh-tier... Moun..."

The youth’s fingers tapped rapidly across the light screen, his mouth repeating the words subconsciously.

However, when the six words "Seventh-tier Mountain and Sea Martial Artist" were fully uttered from his lips and comprehended by his brain, his entire body instantly went rigid.

"Ah?"

"My lord, you are a Seventh-tier Mountain and Sea Martial Artist?!"

Such a deity, coming to their tiny pond to apply for a basic instructor's position?

"My lord, our temple is small; we cannot afford to employ someone like you!" Sweat had already broken out on the youth's face, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"It matters not, I do not require a salary."

Qin Feng saw his embarrassment and said gently, "Consider it coming to help out. If we must follow the rules, a symbolic wage of three thousand Imperial Credits a month will suffice."

He paused, adding a sentence: "In my earlier years, I received kindness from Hall Master Sun."

"Oh... Oh! So that is how it is!"

Hearing the name "Hall Master Sun," the youth found a logical pivot by which to understand it all, his face turning to realization and reverence.

So it was an old acquaintance of the old Hall Master, returning to repay a debt of gratitude! That made sense!

"Excellent, excellent! No problem at all!"

Fumbling, he picked up the light-pen and, with the most respectful posture, swiftly completed the information registration for Qin Feng, "My lord, you may come to work tomorrow! No, you may come whenever you wish! We will not assign you any mandatory private lessons; everything shall be left to chance!"

"That is well."

Qin Feng nodded, rose, and left the Limitless Martial Arts Arena.

The road home consisted of only the last few hundred meters.

When he used that old-fashioned key, stored within his subspace storage unit and unused for decades, to open the door to his home, a familiar scent, blending a faint aroma of cooking smoke with the unique essence of his father, rushed to meet him.

The arrangement of the home was almost identical to how it had been when he left decades ago.

That slightly worn sofa, the teacup his father was accustomed to using on the coffee table, the graduation photographs of his junior high and high school years hanging upon the wall... everything, every single thing, bore the heavy imprint of daily life.

His father had never moved away.

This place had always been his roots.

Qin Feng did not disturb his father's work, merely sitting quietly on the sofa, melting himself into this tranquil haven.

He opened his personal terminal and connected to the private network of Qiming Star.

In the regional section of the Imperial Task System, he once again spotted a familiar piece of information.

[Qiming First Martial Arts Senior High School, sincerely invites instructors of all levels for practical combat courses, requirements...]

At the sight of the words "Qiming First High," the faces of his three mentors—Lin Yue, Gu Yue, and Wu Shangfeng—flashed one by one in his mind.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled up his own profile and clicked to submit the application.

Having done this, he shut down the terminal, closed his eyes, and waited quietly.

Waited for the fall of night, waited for the sound of those familiar footsteps.

After an unknown stretch of time, as the clock struck six in the evening, the crisp jingle of keys colliding echoed from the hallway, along with two familiar voices in conversation.

One of them was the hearty laughter of his father, Qin Dahai.

"Old Wu, I really have to thank you for keeping an eye on the production line today—otherwise, I'd never have had the time to prepare this farewell feast for you.

Come on, tonight we’re going to drink properly—this is your send-off celebration!"

The other voice was steadier: "Absolutely, with you cooking yourself, I’m in for a real treat.

Speaking of which, getting transferred to the main plant as deputy director—I owe a lot to your son Qin Feng’s reputation. These days, who on Qiming Star doesn’t know that the Qin family has produced a remarkable prodigy?"

It was Factory Director Wu’s voice.

"Hahaha, that kid..."

With a *click*, the door swung open.

The laughter and chatter from outside abruptly ceased.

Qin Dahai and Factory Director Wu appeared in the doorway.

As their gazes crossed the entrance hall and landed on the tall figure sitting quietly on the living room sofa, both of them froze.

The air seemed to solidify in that instant.

"A... A-Feng?!"

Qin Dahai’s eyes widened instantly.

The expression on his face shifted from shock to disbelief, and finally into an unparalleled surge of joy.

But Factory Director Wu beside him reacted entirely differently.

As a veteran martial artist who had already reached the sixth rank, his physical instincts were far quicker than his mind.

The moment he saw Qin Feng, every hair on his body stood on end!

An indescribable fear, born from the deepest layers of life itself, crashed down upon his soul like an ice-sealed primordial mountain.

He felt as though he wasn’t looking at a man, but at a cosmic beast from the starry void, sheathed claws and all, feigning slumber.

Within that seemingly calm frame lurked a terror capable of tearing this very planet to shreds!

"Enemy attack!"

The thought didn’t even fully form in his mind.

His body had already reacted on pure instinct.

With a flick of his right hand, the alloy longsword that had accompanied him for most of his life, stored in his subspace storage unit, was instantly drawn and held firmly across his chest in a defensive stance.

"A-Feng! You kid, how did you get back?!"

Qin Dahai, however, felt none of that pressure. He bounded forward in three quick strides, completely ignoring Factory Director Wu’s bristling alertness, and threw his arms around Qin Feng in a solid bear hug.

Qin Feng smiled, hugging his father tightly in return.

"Just coming home for a while, to keep you company."

He patted his father’s broad back and said softly, "My strength has hit a bottleneck now—training anywhere is pretty much the same."

"Good! Great! What a good boy!"

Qin Dahai was so excited he stumbled over his words, repeatedly slapping Qin Feng’s back and laughing heartily.

Turning his head, he finally noticed Factory Director Wu, still on guard and pale-faced, and quickly introduced him: "A-Feng, come—this is Factory Director Wu. Over the years, he’s looked after our family a lot."

"Mm, I know. Factory Director Wu, long time no see."

Qin Feng released his father, smiled, and nodded at Factory Director Wu in greeting.

Only then did Factory Director Wu snap out of his daze. Watching the tender father-son scene before him, then glancing at the longsword still clutched in his own hand, his old face flushed red. He hastily sheathed the blade and forced a stiff smile that looked more painful than a grimace.

He stepped forward, bowed slightly, and said humbly, "Qin Feng. Don’t listen to Old Qin’s nonsense about ‘looking after’—I was... actually just making a little early investment on the sly. Hardly worthy of the word ‘care.’"

Factory Director Wu wisely chose to speak the truth.

"You can’t say that, Uncle Wu."

Qin Feng’s smile didn’t waver, but his address shifted from "Factory Director Wu" to "Uncle Wu," instantly bridging the distance.

He stepped closer and said with easy familiarity, "Back then, if it hadn’t been for you and the other uncles at the factory helping out, my father and I wouldn’t have had it so easy.

I’ve always remembered that kindness.

I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your promotion yet—one of these days, I’ll definitely come by to pay my respects in person."

His words were seamless: acknowledging the past help, preserving his father’s dignity, and striking a note of closeness without overstepping.

This almost slick maturity and sophistication left Qin Dahai blinking in astonishment.

Factory Director Wu, flattered and overwhelmed, waved his hands repeatedly: "I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare! Well, Old Qin, since A-Feng’s finally back, you two must have a lot to talk about.

I’ve got some urgent business at home, so I won’t intrude!

The celebration feast—let’s do it another day, my treat!"

"Alright, alright."

Watching Factory Director Wu’s hasty retreat, Qin Dahai felt a twinge of guilt, while Qin Feng just shook his head with a smile.

He knew it wasn’t that Factory Director Wu was being rude—it was that under the immense gap in life levels, an insurmountable chasm had naturally formed between ordinary people and the strong.

Forcing them to sit at the same table would be torture for both sides.

Unless bound by the ties of family.

"Dad, forget about him—I’m hungry."

Qin Feng smiled, picked up the grocery basket from the floor, and handed it to his father. "I’ve been craving your signature dishes for decades."

"Haha! Good! Just wait!"

Hearing his son’s words, Qin Dahai instantly cast all other thoughts aside. He took the basket, tied on an apron, and strode triumphantly into the kitchen.

Soon, accompanied by the roar of the range hood, rich aromas of cooking began wafting from the kitchen.

That familiar scent—a mix of cheap soy sauce, rock sugar, and spices caramelizing—drifted through the air and into Qin Feng’s nostrils, like a key unlocking the deepest gates of his taste memory.

At that moment, all the lavish feasts of the Canaan Culinary District, all the top-tier delicacies made from rare beast flesh brimming with life energy, paled before this humble fragrance from home.

Qin Feng sat on the sofa, watching his father’s bustling figure in the kitchen, listening to the familiar clatter of the spatula against the wok. The irritation, anger, and confusion born from the collapse of his ideals were slowly soothed, bit by bit, by this ordinary, earthly warmth.

Here, this was his harbor.

No matter what he had been through or what he had become out there, the moment he returned here, he could forever remain just a child.

"Come on, Ah Feng, wash your hands and eat!"

In no time, Qin Dahai emerged carrying two steaming plates of side dishes and a large bowl of rice, a genuine smile radiating from his face.

"You're decades old now, but I feel like you haven't changed a bit—still the same as when you were in high school."

While serving Qin Feng his rice, Qin Dahai rambled on, "But your old man is aging—look, my hair's gone quite gray."

Qin Feng looked at the strands of white already creeping into his father's temples, and a pang of sorrow tugged at his heart.

Though martial arts cultivation could prolong life, his father had started too late and was still trapped by the threshold of mental strength; the marks of time had silently climbed upon him after all.

"Dad, you're not old. A fifth-level martial artist is considered a top expert even in the Qiming metropolitan circle."

Qin Feng picked up a glistening piece of meat and put it into his mouth; the familiar flavor exploded on his tongue, making him squint with contentment.

"Pfft, what expert? All empty titles."

Qin Dahai waved his hand and poured himself a glass of wine. "Compared to you, my strength is nothing. By the way, how long do you plan to stay this time?"

"Not sure—anywhere from a few years to decades."

Qin Feng swallowed his food and said, "I've hit some bottlenecks at school, and there are things I can't figure out. I want to come home, quiet my mind, and settle down."

"If you can't figure it out, then don't."

Qin Dahai took a sip of wine and smacked his lips. "If the sky falls, there are tall people to hold it up. You've always been one to dwell on things since you were little. Did you suffer any grievances out there?"

His father's eyes held a trace of barely perceptible concern.

A warmth spread through Qin Feng's heart as he shook his head. "Not really grievances... just a bit of a mess inside."

He didn't mention Shi Dang, didn't mention the cold figure of "three million," and certainly didn't bring up the confrontation that had overturned his understanding.

All of that was too heavy; he didn't want his father to worry about him.

"Then that's right."

Qin Dahai nodded and picked up another piece of food for Qin Feng. "The longer a person lives, the more they see, and the messier their heart gets.

Your old man doesn't have much ability, nor does he understand your grand principles of stars and seas.

All I know is that a person must live with a clear conscience.

If you think something is right, go ahead and do it.

If you think something is wrong, even if everyone says it's right, you must not do it.

I don't ask you to become some great figure in the future—I only ask that wherever you go, you can stand tall and sleep soundly at night."

These plain, earthy words struck the softest part of Qin Feng's heart.

Yes—live with a clear conscience.

Stand tall.

Sleep soundly.

Only seek a clear mind and unobstructed thoughts!!

"Dad, I understand."

Qin Feng nodded firmly and scraped the last grains of rice from his bowl.

"Good that you understand."

Qin Dahai smiled, the wrinkles on his face relaxing. "Eat up. After you finish, tell me about your two cousins, Wang Hao and Wang Jie. Your uncle contacted me a couple of days ago, saying the two boys ran into you at the Star Cup. They came back like they'd been injected with adrenaline, training like mad every day—couldn't stop them even if you tried."

"Yeah, I met them. They're doing great now—already elites at 'Duna Star Martial Arts University.'"

Mentioning his two cousins, a smile crept onto Qin Feng's face.

Father and son, under the warm lamplight, ate the most ordinary home-cooked meal and chatted about the most trivial family matters.

Outside the window, the night deepened.

The myriad lights of Qiming Star flickered on one by one, merging into a brilliant river of stars.

—

After the meal, he helped his father clear the dishes and returned to the room where he had grown up.

Pushing open the door, a familiar scent—mingling sunshine, old book pages, and a faint trace of soap—rushed to meet him.

It was a small bedroom of less than fifteen square meters, with a layout so simple it was almost stark.

A bed, a bookshelf, a desk.

For him, now two meters tall and built like a demon god, the space felt a bit cramped.

The bed was even too short for him to fully stretch out.

Yet this tiny, slightly crowded space gave Qin Feng a sense of unparalleled peace he hadn't felt in ages.

Here, he didn't need to be the "Qin Beast" who had stormed the Canaan Freshman Cup.

Here, he was just Qin Feng.

The boy who had once despaired over damaged foundations, rejoiced at being admitted to Qiming No.1 High School, and sweated buckets for every improvement in strength.

His fingertips brushed lightly across the desk's surface.

On it, faint carvings of the character "diligence" he had etched with a knife in his youth still remained.

In the bookshelf, old textbooks—from basic martial theory to advanced spear techniques—were neatly stacked, their corners curled from repeated reading.

On the wall, a poster of the Imperial Expeditionary Force still hung, showing a star soldier in Terminator power armor standing proudly atop a mountain of alien corpses.

The poster's colors had faded to a pale yellow, yet it held all the passion and dreams of his teenage years.

He lay down on the bed, which was now a bit too short for him, hands behind his head, staring quietly at the ceiling.

In that stillness, the personal terminal on his wrist let out a soft "ding," signaling a new message.

Qin Feng raised his wrist, and a beam of light projected into the air.

The sender was—[Qiming No.1 Advanced Martial Arts High School, Human Resources Department].

His mind stirred slightly as he opened the email.

[Dear Qin Feng,]

[Greetings! We have received your teaching application. For your willingness to return to your alma mater and contribute to the martial arts education of Qiming Star, the entire faculty and staff of Qiming No.1 High School extend our deepest gratitude! We have unanimously approved your application for employment.]

[We hereby formally appoint you as a senior martial arts practical combat instructor at our school.]

[Regarding compensation, we offer the following package:]

[1. Monthly salary: 300,000 Imperial Credits (after tax).]

[2. Contribution point subsidy: 1 point per month.]

[Supplementary note: This contribution point subsidy comes from the 'Torch Plan' jointly launched by the Imperial Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Military Affairs. The plan aims to encourage high-level martial artists to return to the basic education system and nourish the Empire's martial foundation.]

All martial artists above the seventh level of the Mountain-Sea Realm who teach at Empire-certified key advanced martial arts high schools are eligible for this subsidy.】

【3. Special Reward: If, during your tenure, you successfully cultivate a new generation of ‘Qiming Star Generals,’ the school will apply for an additional one-time reward of 50 Contribution Points on your behalf.】

【4. Position Promotion: Should you be interested, you may apply at any time to transfer to the role of ‘Martial Arts Class Advisor.’

As a Class Advisor, you will have higher authority, overseeing resource allocation, practical mission screening, and safety assessments for the entire class, with the Contribution Point subsidy increased to 10 points per month.】

【If you agree to the above terms, you may report to the school tomorrow. We look forward to your arrival!】

【Signed: Office of the Principal, Qiming First Advanced Martial Arts High School】

As he read this email, a hint of unexpected surprise flickered across Qin Feng’s face.

A monthly salary of three hundred thousand Imperial Credits was, for him now, a mere drop in the bucket—not even enough to buy the most basic high-grade cultivation potion.

He paid it no heed.

What truly astonished him was the subsidy of “1 Contribution Point per month.”

Contribution Points were the hardest of hard currency within the Empire’s system, their value far surpassing Imperial Credits.

In Canaan, even the lowest-level tasks required risking one’s life to earn a mere handful of Contribution Points.

And now, simply by serving as a high school teacher, he could steadily gain 1 point each month.

Over a year, that would be 12 points.

Compared to his previous efficiency—where hell-level and nightmare-level missions netted him thousands or tens of thousands of points at a time—this pace was naturally as slow as a tortoise’s crawl.

But… it was stable, and utterly without risk.

No need to struggle on the edge of life and death, no need to battle ferocious alien races or grotesque chaotic abominations.

All he had to do was teach a group of spirited juniors and seniors at his most familiar and reassuring alma mater, and in return, he would receive this resource so precious in the outside world.

For Qin Feng, whose heart was now turbulent and who urgently needed a period of calm to settle himself and ponder his future path, this was undoubtedly the best choice.

As for the additional reward about cultivating a “Qiming Star General,” it only made him smile faintly.

As for the position of “Martial Arts Class Advisor,” Qin Feng merely glanced at it and then skipped over it entirely.

What he needed most now was to cast aside all unnecessary distractions and devote his body and mind to the purest cultivation and reflection.

Serving as a Class Advisor meant taking responsibility for the safety of dozens of students—a heavy burden he currently had no energy to bear.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Qin Feng’s fingertip lightly tapped on the light screen, replying with a concise email.

【Agreed. Reporting tomorrow.】

Having sent it, he shut down his personal terminal.

Qin Feng closed his eyes, his breathing gradually growing long and steady.

On his first night home, he slept soundly.

As Qin Feng sank into deep sleep, his spiritual power actually began to increase at a relatively rapid pace.

(The chapter ends)