Chapter 148: Zhang Yu's Rapid Progress (Thanks to 'Suo Fa Sheng De Gei')

Chapter 148 – Zhang Yu’s Meteoric Rise (Thanks to “What Happened” for the generous reward to the Alliance Leader)

Inside the training hall.

The first‑year demonstration class is engaged in one‑on‑one combat drills.

Martial arts instructor Lei Jun bellowed at the crowd, “Spiritual techniques demand money, martial paths demand blood; if you wish to spend less, you must bleed more.”

“Every extra minute you grind now saves a penny in the tutoring budget.”

“In two months you’ll officially become sophomores; ask yourselves whether your current level is worthy of that rank.”

While urging everyone to cultivate diligently, Lei Jun glanced at the class’s purple‑skinned, beast‑tailed, and dark‑skinned students and mused, “This year’s high‑school entrance interview will likely reward those willing to undergo the new body‑refining surgery after enrollment.”

“In five or ten years it may become as routine as a sterilization—an immutable admission requirement.”

Lei Jun could already picture the future: what? You, in that human guise, still dreaming of immortality? Get the modification surgery first.

Yet he felt a sliver of relief: “Fortunately I’m not a physical‑education teacher; it doesn’t concern me.”

With the advance of the new body‑refining technology, Lei Jun knew the PE teachers were meeting daily, constantly drafting fresh curricula.

“Thus, being a martial‑arts instructor is the easy life.”

“At least for first‑year martial teachers it’s relatively light.”

Lei Jun understood that teachers of the third‑year class bore a heavy burden.

After all, confronting seniors who have entered the later stages of Qi‑refinement and are at the most voracious age demands genuine battlefield experience.

“A teacher like me, who only masters the basics of ambush, insult, and provocation, can at best spar in the arena.”

But to become a senior‑year instructor merely by being able to fight?

Lei Jun knew that was a pipe dream.

“A senior‑year teacher must spend years studying insurance contracts, injury assessments, medical compensation, organ valuation, and the like before he can be competent; otherwise he won’t even understand how a student could be killed or maimed in class.”

Still, the high risk brings high pay, and Lei Jun sometimes envied the senior‑year martial teachers’ earnings as insurance and medical brokers.

At that moment, footsteps echoed from outside; Lei Jun watched rows of sophomore students approach, and his brow furrowed especially when he saw the leader, Lan Ling.

Simultaneously, the first‑year pupils, who had just been training, halted and bowed respectfully toward the incoming sophomores.

“Senior, greetings!!”

Observing their deferential gestures, Lan Ling gave a slight nod, “Go on with your duties.”

He then walked to Lei Jun, smiled faintly, and said, “Instructor, today’s combat exchange between sophomores and freshmen has been scheduled; you received the notice, didn’t you?”

Lei Jun glanced at the message and realized the arrangement had indeed just been made, and his displeasure deepened.

It reminded him of the scene months earlier when Lan Ling had instructed Bai Zhenzhen.

Yet he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Lei Jun sighed, “So you finally showed up after all?”

Lei Jun knew that the student council of Songyang High, and the sixteen great families of the whole city, would not stand idly by as two penniless youths—Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen—repeatedly snatched competition rankings.

For the wealthy of Songyang, each contest placement is a crucial metric for the top‑ten interview; how could they hand such a prize to those destined to miss the top ten?

Even with peak Qi‑refinement, Lei Jun dared not defy this tide; he could only manage to say, “Do not injure anyone.”

Lan Ling replied, “Rest assured, instructor. I’ve told all the students that when we spar with the juniors we must be careful and never harm them.”

“By the way…” Lan Ling scanned the crowd, not seeing Zhang Yu or Bai Zhenzhen, and casually asked, “Is every student present? If not, summon the missing ones.”

In a corner of the training hall, Zhao Tianxing, his whole body tinged violet like a walking eggplant, furtively produced his phone and messaged Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen, “The gate‑keepers are looking for trouble; stay away.”

Just as he sent the message, a palm lightly patted Zhao’s shoulder, startling him almost to the point of dropping the phone.

“Junior, let the senior give you some guidance.”

Zhao turned his head and saw a senior whose frame was a full circle wider, smiling warmly at him.

Lan Ling said calmly, “Zhou Ke, remember—do not hurt the junior.”

“Don’t worry.” Zhou Ke pulled Zhao away, gently assuring, “I’ll make sure not a single hair is harmed.”

……

In the school’s small grove.

Zhang Yu and Bai Zhenzhen were hidden there, silently cultivating.

As Zhang Yu circulated the crimson marrow’s primordial qi, his muscles, organs, and bones convulsed violently; he radiated heat like a living radiator, spilling warmth in all directions.

Since returning from the Immortal Capital, Zhang Yu has charged along the path of the immortal way, his strength soaring with each step.

Today his magical power registers at 69.4, his bodily fortitude at level 6.81, drawing ever nearer to the average of a first‑year White‑Dragon student entering senior year.

Only his Dao‑heart has lagged, inching up to merely level 5 (37%).

“Yu Xinghan promised after this year’s college entrance exam to introduce me to a spirit‑realm Dao‑heart cultivation channel—why hasn’t it materialized yet?”

Besides the Dao‑heart, magic, and physique, Zhang Yu’s other gain was that, through sparring with Yu Xinghan, he pushed the Dragon‑Elephant Crashing Mountain Palm to level 10.

Since that palm reached ten, Zhang Yu feels daily subtle shifts in his muscle and bone structure—a metamorphosis wrought by his constant feeding and training.

He understands this is the ten‑level effect of the Dragon‑Elephant Crashing Mountain Palm, also called Dragon‑Tendon Elephant‑Bone, granting the flesh a more celestial, stronger bearing capacity to endure and transmit greater bursts of force. “No wonder a two‑hundred‑thousand‑gold skill; it’s clear why Yu Xinghan cultivates it.”

“If I had this ten‑level palm in a physical contest, perhaps I could support a thirteen‑thousand‑kilogram load? Or maybe even a fourteen‑thousand‑kilogram sky‑pillar.”

At that moment, Bai Zhenzhen suddenly spoke, “Yu‑zi, did you see Old Zhao’s message?”

Hearing this, Zhang Yu opened his phone, glanced at Zhao’s note, then looked at Bai and asked, “A‑zhen, what do you think?”

Bai Zhenzhen laughed, “If we can’t even spar with a Songyang senior like Lan Ling, how can we hope to contend with the Immortal Lords?”

With that, she summoned a flash of lightning and darted toward the training hall.

“Yu‑zi, I’ll go ahead; if you’re late you might lose the chance to strike.”

Watching her vanish in an instant, Zhang Yu thought, “A‑zhen’s speed keeps getting faster.”

He knew that during this period it wasn’t only he who was advancing at breakneck speed; Bai Zhenzhen was likewise soaring.

“Originally, A‑zhen’s martial talent was already formidable under the true‑spirit root’s blessing.”

Zhang Yu recalled how Bai Zhenzhen had mastered the basic high‑school martial arts, grasped the Celestial Weapon Heart‑refining Formula, and comprehended the Boundless Cloud Hand external technique in remarkably short time.

And now…

“The true‑spirit root accelerates my cultivation, and I in turn stimulate its evolution.”

Zhang Yu has so many level‑10 techniques that he far exceeds the typical high‑schooler’s capacity.

As the true‑spirit root adapts to Zhang Yu, it draws more imprints of techniques from his bodily and magical flows, then transmits them into Bai Zhenzhen’s system.

Thus, when Bai Zhenzhen practices the arts Zhang Yu has trained, it comes as naturally as water finding its channel, allowing continual leaps forward.

Especially with pure external arts like Back‑Dragon Over‑Mountain Hand and Dragon‑Elephant Crashing Mountain Palm, she masters them with effortless ease.

Yet Zhang Yu knew that Bai Zhenzhen, to save money, could not afford the usage rights to his techniques; she practices them in secret, never intending to display them openly, using them solely to boost her own strength.

……

Inside the training hall.

Like an eggplant, Zhao Tianxing had just gotten up when Zhou Ke kicked him in the butt, sending him sprawling to the ground like a dog that has just eaten feces, eliciting a burst of laughter from the sophomore students.

Zhao Tianxing struggled to rise again, but no matter how he dodged or countered, Zhou Ke would always appear like a phantom, delivering a kick right behind his rear.

The force Zhou Ke used was modest, merely enough to send Zhao Tianxing sprawling to the ground.

It signified a total domination in strength, speed, and control.

Thus Zhao Tianxing emerged unscathed.

He did not let the vast gap between them dampen his spirit.

After all, facing a senior a year older, Zhao Tianxing knew any first‑year freshman in such a predicament could only bow his head obediently.

‘Given the one‑year difference, it’s only natural that we’re no match for the seniors,’ he thought.

At this moment, most of his thoughts had left the battlefield and turned to his own embarrassment.

‘Fortunately I underwent the super‑metabolism surgery; my whole body is violet now, so no one will see my face flush, right?’

‘Purple is my best camouflage at the moment.’

He hauled himself up once more, hurriedly fastening the loosened trousers lest they fall off under another blow.

He knew that, in the eyes of everyone present, he had already become the laughingstock of the scene.

The only thing Zhao Tianxing could think of was to feign indifference, hoping that as the crowd laughed more and more,

they would eventually tire of it and cease.

That was the lesson he gleaned after playing the clown time and again.

As for resistance?

‘We first‑year students are certainly no match for the second‑year seniors,’ he muttered.

‘And the ones leading the charge are the student council…’

Recalling the aristocratic families behind Lanling and the others, Zhao Tianxing silently warned himself not to bring trouble upon his parents.

Just then a voice rang out: ‘Enough, is there any point to this combat training?’

Zhou Ke halted, turned toward the speaker Qian Shen, tilted his head, and asked, ‘Junior, do you have a problem with the seniors’ guidance?’

Beside him, Zhao Tianxing rose again, his voice tinged with gratitude as he addressed Qian Shen, ‘Old Qian…’

Qian Shen frowned and replied, ‘In the real‑world gaokao simulations, the Yellow Turban Warriors mimic the qualities of test‑takers in battle.’

‘If you want to raise your scores, you should spar with opponents of comparable caliber.’

‘What you’re doing now merely wastes everyone’s cultivation time and drags down their scores.’

‘Moreover, Zhao Tianxing’s own scores, like most of those present, were never high to begin with; your interference only sets them back further.’

(End of chapter)