Chapter Fourteen: Spiritual Elevation

Cultivation is not something that can be achieved overnight; it requires years of persistent polishing and tireless accumulation, day and night, before any results become apparent.

The powerful sensation brought by a single Vitality Pill was simply unreal. Yang Fan understood this well. The effect of the tier-one Vitality Pill lasted for about an hour. Afterwards, he took a tier-one Vitality Restoration Pill, and immediately felt as if a sun had ignited in his abdomen, radiating endless light, dispelling the fatigue brought on by his prolonged concentration. Once the sun faded, his mental state returned to its peak.

Yang Fan intended to rest for a while. The cultivation manual had made it clear: one must not train ceaselessly. Forcing the blood to flow at high speeds without pause would place an increasing burden on the body. Progress must be made step by step.

Time slipped by quickly, and before long, darkness had fallen outside. Yang Fan took another tier-one Vitality Pill and resumed his cultivation.

This time, just as the pill’s effect was fading, he finally managed to control the flow of his blood. When he ended his practice, his heart surged with excitement and joy.

At this moment, he had truly taken his first step, reaching the realm of a tier-one Martial Disciple. Though this was only the first stage among the twelve tiers of cultivation, for Yang Fan, it marked the beginning of a new life and a meaningful farewell to his first eighteen years.

With his initial mastery over his body as a tier-one Martial Disciple, his strength and speed had both improved. According to the manual, tier-one strength was about double that of an ordinary person, allowing for a punch of around two hundred jin. Of course, this was a theoretical value; to fully realize such power would require further mastery of his body and more research into force application.

After briefly experiencing his newfound abilities, the initial excitement gradually faded, and reason returned.

Suddenly, Yang Fan remembered the system he had neglected for the past few days. What a shame! The exhilaration of becoming a cultivator had overshadowed everything, yet this system might become his greatest asset in the future, and he had carelessly set it aside.

He silently called for the system in his mind, and a row of data appeared before his eyes.

"Hmm?"

Yang Fan let out a soft hum as he glanced over the data.

The numbers had changed.

He clearly remembered the system's state when he last closed it two nights ago. At that time, the data read:

"Host: Yang Fan"
"Level: Uninitiated"
"Title: None"
"Assets: 2,980"
"Vital Sea: 0.6"
"Spirit: 0.2"
"Available Points: 1"
"Assignable Points: Vital Sea+, Spirit+"
"Shop: Not Opened"
"Draw Chances: 0"

But now, things had changed. The current data read:

"Host: Yang Fan"
"Level: Tier One"
"Title: Student of Shanghai Cultivation Academy"
"Assets: 1,002,830"
"Vital Sea: 0.6"
"Spirit: 0.2"
"Available Points: 1001"
"Assignable Points: Vital Sea+, Spirit+"
"Shop: Not Opened"
"Draw Chances: 1"

There were quite a few changes, most of which Yang Fan could understand, but what was going on with his assets? A million! And the available points had jumped from just one to over a thousand, while his draw chances had increased by one, and his spirit had risen by 0.1. Yang Fan could guess that this was because he had begun cultivating and had remained highly focused on his bodily state. That modest 0.1 increase made sense. But as for the rest, he was at a loss.

After a while, Yang Fan realized where the million in assets had come from. Tallying up his gains from the past two days, it amounted to only a hundred credits. Once he made the connection, he understood just how valuable credits were: the system regarded one credit as equivalent to ten thousand yuan. That revelation stunned him. The most money he had ever handled in his life was from a part-time job during one year, when a generous boss gave him holiday and overtime bonuses, totaling just over 4,000 yuan. Now, he suddenly had a million at his disposal—how unreal that seemed.

He also began to grasp the logic behind the available points. When the system first activated, he had 2,980 yuan and two available points. Now, with a million in assets, the points had become 1,001—roughly one point for every thousand yuan.

Though he couldn’t be certain yet, it was the only explanation that fit.

As for the draw chances, Yang Fan speculated that perhaps a million in assets granted one chance, or perhaps advancing in level did. This would have to be tested in the future; only by observing when draw chances increased would he know for sure.

Since he had a draw chance, he might as well use it.

What would he get this time?

Yang Fan silently recited, “Draw,” and once again entered the pitch-black roulette space.

He pressed the button, and the wheel began to spin.

After a rapid rotation, the pointer landed on an area marked with a slip of paper.

Exiting the draw space, Yang Fan eyed the slip beside him, feeling conflicted. His system was so unreliable—no hints, no guidance. How was he supposed to use this? At least with the fruit, he could just eat it, but what was he supposed to do with a blank slip?

He picked up the paper, and the moment he touched it, it dissolved into countless silver lights that shot into his body.

Immediately, he felt as though his head had been struck with a hammer, followed by excruciating pain, as if his skull were being torn apart.

Then, he knew nothing more. His body’s self-protection mechanism kicked in, and Yang Fan blacked out from the agony.

About an hour later, he gradually regained consciousness.

His head was still a bit dazed, but the pain was gone.

His first reaction was to curse.

“What the hell is this? What the hell kind of system is this? Other people’s systems are all considerate, at the very least they come with instructions, some can even communicate with the host. I’m not even asking for instructions anymore, but do you have to keep messing with me like this? The last time it was a fruit, this time a piece of paper—when will it end?”

Yang Fan vented for a while, but it was nothing but pure frustration—there was nothing he could do about the system.

Afterward, he checked his physical condition and discovered no noticeable changes. He tested his strength, but it hadn’t increased.

A fresh wave of anger rose within him. After all that torment, nothing had changed? Was he just being played for a fool?

What was this, some kind of perverse joke?

Yang Fan fell into a spiral of self-doubt.

What did this mean? No changes at all, yet he’d been in so much pain he’d passed out?

He couldn’t help but feel utterly wronged.

After a while, he seemed to resign himself to his fate and stopped dwelling on it. Perhaps the system had just toyed with him this time. That was the only way he could console himself—what else could he do?

He glanced back at his system data, and his previously dejected expression was instantly replaced by shock.

"Host: Yang Fan"
"Level: Tier One"
"Title: Student of Shanghai Cultivation Academy"
"Assets: 1,002,830"
"Vital Sea: 0.6"
"Spirit: 11.12"
"Available Points: 1001"
"Assignable Points: Vital Sea+, Spirit+"
"Shop: Not Opened"
"Draw Chances: 0"

Yang Fan nearly saw a ghost—his spirit attribute had risen by 11.1 points.

He hadn’t known much before, but now, with the manual in hand, he had a rough idea of the cultivation hierarchy.

The first and second tiers focus on blood and flesh. The third tier opens the Vital Sea and gathers energy. The fourth tier refines the five organs with energy, the fifth tempers the six internal organs, and the sixth gathers spirit. The seventh allows the spirit to be projected outward—enabling control of flying swords. The eighth unifies essence, energy, and spirit. The ninth forges the golden body. The tenth forms a small world within. The eleventh masters one’s own Dao. And the twelfth perfects the Dao and transcends the mortal realm.

Each stage has its own focus. Before the ninth tier, all cultivation is about laying the foundation; after the tenth, one begins to forge a small world and comprehend the Dao.

Spirit power only sees significant growth after the sixth tier. Prior to that, even though spirit increases, the rise is minimal; only in the sixth and seventh tiers is spirit the main focus, with the body as a supplement. At those stages, spirit power increases rapidly. Furthermore, the awakening of spirit begins only at the third tier, when the Vital Sea is opened and energy is gathered. At the first and second tiers, spirit typically maxes out at about 0.9. Only after reaching the third tier can the value surpass one.

Now, Yang Fan had just stepped into the first tier, yet after absorbing the silver slip, his spirit had soared to 11.11. Even without understanding everything, he knew this was far beyond what was attainable at his current level.

Now, he could let go of his frustration; no wonder the process had been so agonizing—it had forcibly shattered the spiritual bottleneck.

Though he didn’t know what consequences this premature awakening of spirit power might have, it did nothing to dampen his rising mood.

Just then, his phone rang.

Yang Fan glanced at the screen—it was Zhou Ting’s number.

He answered.

“Yang Fan, what are you doing? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” But the voice on the other end was unmistakably Zhou Yiyi’s.

“I was just cultivating and didn’t hear it,” Yang Fan replied. He noticed thirteen missed calls, all from the same unmarked number—presumably Zhou Yiyi’s.

“Yeah, right. I called you thirteen times and you didn’t answer, but as soon as I used my sister’s number, you picked up right away! What’s that supposed to mean?” Zhou Yiyi shouted.

Yang Fan was momentarily at a loss for words. What was this? If he said he’d just passed out and had only just come to, would she believe him?

“Really, is there something you need?” He didn’t want to explain further—their thought processes were too different; it was pointless.

“Come out for dinner. We’re about to reach your dormitory entrance.” She hung up without waiting for his response.

Yang Fan stared at the phone, feeling a little helpless. What kind of mess was this? Had his luck really run out lately? It was as if he’d been cursed.

But since they were already at his door, it wouldn’t be right not to go. Yang Fan grabbed his clothes and prepared to head out.