Chapter Eighteen: The Start of School? Training in Battle Techniques

The Resource Exchange Building still had the same portly attendant sitting at the window as before—the very one who had left Yang Fan with a lingering sense of unease. As last time, he was slumped over, fast asleep.

Yang Fan stepped forward and roused him.

“Hey, wake up. The semester’s started,” Yang Fan called loudly.

“What? Semester started? Semester started?” The man jerked up in fright, glanced around, and his face immediately darkened.

“It’s you again, kid. What are you here for this time?” Seeing Yang Fan, the attendant knew he was being played, feeling both annoyed and embarrassed.

“I’m here to check out weapons. I want to exchange for a new blade,” Yang Fan replied, with a touch of irritation. He could be respectful toward other instructors, but with this man, he found it impossible; the last encounter had left him with a shadow.

The attendant said nothing, rummaged through the desk for a while, then flung a list at Yang Fan, eyeing him with a mocking grin.

Yang Fan’s heart skipped at the look on the man’s face. He took the list and scanned it.

“A-grade alloy: 80 credits per kilo.
B-grade alloy: 50 credits per kilo.
C-grade alloy: 25 credits per kilo.
D-grade alloy: 15 credits per kilo.
E-grade alloy: 5 credits per kilo.
F-grade alloy: 2 credits per kilo.”

“My goodness, this is outrageous!” Yang Fan was shocked by the prices.

“Expensive? All alloys above a certain grade are priced like this, and the academy’s rates are already discounted—a third less than the market price,” the attendant replied with a smile.

Yang Fan finally understood the meaning behind the man’s mocking expression: he knew Yang Fan couldn’t afford it, but had purposefully handed him the list to let him feel the blow.

“This is too expensive. I can’t afford it,” Yang Fan said, dejected. He’d come brimming with confidence, only to leave disappointed—hardly what he’d prepared himself for.

“Hah! Of course you can’t afford it. You’ve only got 65 credits left. I remember that perfectly. Dreaming of an alloy blade? Save up for a few years and come back,” the attendant laughed, thoroughly enjoying Yang Fan’s dilemma.

But Yang Fan’s expression shifted. He realized he’d overlooked something.

“Alloy blade? I never intended to get an alloy blade. I’m only at the first level—I don’t need one yet,” Yang Fan thought.

A typical first-tier martial apprentice, at peak, could muster about five hundred pounds of force, requiring a weapon weighing around a hundred pounds to wield comfortably. Even the lowest F-grade alloy cost four credits per kilo, so a weapon would need at least a hundred credits—far beyond his means.

But Yang Fan didn’t need that. He was only practicing combat techniques; as long as the weapon’s weight suited him, the material didn’t matter.

With this realization, Yang Fan’s gloom lifted. He’d been misled by the attendant, and the man had done it intentionally.

“Who said I wanted alloy gear? I just want a standard steel blade, like a Miao Dao, weighing between a hundred and a hundred thirty pounds, about four feet long,” Yang Fan said.

The attendant’s smile faded. This kid had climbed out of the pit so quickly? He hadn’t even had his fun yet.

With a sour expression, the attendant said, “Weapons below grade can’t channel Qi from the sea of energy. Are you sure?”

Noting the attendant’s darkened face, Yang Fan confirmed he’d been up to no good. He replied, “Sir, please don’t joke. I’m only at the first level—who knows how long until I reach the third level and open my Qi sea? Besides, my credits are nowhere near enough.”

“Ordinary blades, regardless of weight or size, cost one credit. Pick it up at the Resource Exchange Building in two days,” the attendant said gruffly.

“Two days? That long?”

“What did you expect? Weapons here are made to order unless recycled from instructors or students. All recycled blades are graded; ordinary ones aren’t worth reclaiming,” the attendant explained.

So, after a visit, Yang Fan left with a belly full of frustration and nothing in hand.

He also purchased two first-tier Qi and blood pills and four blood recovery pills. Why four recovery pills? Just to round things out—a compulsive need for even numbers. After paying, Yang Fan left the building.

Now he was down to fifty credits.

...

Shanghai Cultivation Academy, Freshmen Dormitory Area, Room 0001.

At this moment, Yang Fan was sweating profusely in the training room, holding a horse stance. The first step of the “Shadow Spring” technique was to squat in a horse stance. As the ancients said, to learn to fight, first secure your footing.

The horse stance is the foundation of many combat techniques. While each method varies slightly, the stance serves two main purposes: strengthening the legs and building endurance.

The requirements: legs parallel and apart, feet three foot-lengths apart, squat down, toes forward and parallel, not turned outward. Knees pushed outward, but not past the toes; thighs parallel to the ground. Hips tucked, not protruding. This creates a rounded arch in the crotch, known as “round crotch.” Chest in, back rounded; do not puff out the chest. Hands can be held in front, as if cradling a ball. Neck extended, as if suspended by a thread. Of course, different techniques require slight variations.

There are three phases: stable, solid, and empty. Only upon achieving stability can one begin to learn “Shadow Spring.”

Yang Fan had held the stance for about ten minutes, sweat pouring, his body soaked, legs trembling.

Slowly, he stood up—he could hold no longer. Ten minutes was already impressive, considering his body was far stronger than most. Ordinary people might not manage five minutes at first.

Yang Fan paced slowly in the training room; after holding the stance, one shouldn’t squat or sit, but walk gently until fully relaxed, then rest.

The numbness faded, though his legs still felt weak.

When he felt fully relaxed, Yang Fan began cultivating his internal Qi and blood.

After finishing, he swallowed a first-tier blood recovery pill.

Day after day, two days passed. Yang Fan went to the Resource Exchange Building to collect his custom blade.

Miao Dao: also called the “Long Blade,” a traditional Chinese weapon (note: the Miao Dao is not a “Miao ethnic sharp knife,” nor is it akin to a katana). Five feet long, with a blade of three feet three inches and a handle of one foot. Named for its slender blade resembling a sprout, it combines features of both sword and spear, and was widely used during Qi Jiguang’s campaigns against the invaders.

The Miao Dao was over 1.4 meters long, slender in form—a perfect choice for practicing the Thunder Blade technique.

Normally, a Miao Dao should be over 1.6 meters, but Yang Fan found that too long and altered the dimensions, feeling it better suited him.

This time, the attendant caused no trouble. Yang Fan took the blade and hurried back to his dorm.

From then on, his days settled into a routine: five hundred blade chops each morning, five hundred blade thrusts, then a break, followed by horse stance practice, another rest, then Qi and blood cultivation.

The academy filled with more students as the semester approached.

...

Twenty-five days later, there was a knock at Yang Fan’s door.

Bang bang bang.

Yang Fan opened the door to find Zhang Fengyi, the teacher who had brought him to the dormitory.

“Teacher Zhang! What can I do for you?” Yang Fan asked.

“Classes start tomorrow—surely you haven’t forgotten? I’m here to remind you to pack your things. After the opening ceremony, dorms will be reassigned. Meet at the front of the teaching building at nine a.m. Don’t be late. All the deans will be there,” Zhang Fengyi said with a smile.

“Understood. I’ll be there on time. Thank you, Teacher Zhang,” Yang Fan replied.

Zhang Fengyi left to inform other dorms.

Yang Fan closed the door and returned inside.

“So soon? It doesn’t feel like it at all,” Yang Fan mused from the sofa.

Two months had passed since he’d arrived. He had just reached the peak of first-tier martial apprentice, his Qi and blood nourishing every part of his flesh.

Now he only needed to strengthen his Qi and blood further to refine his bones and advance to the second tier. Yang Fan felt this day was near.

He had also attained the “stable as a pine” stage in Shadow Spring, able to use it at a basic level, though the explosive force was still hard to bear—he couldn’t use it repeatedly, as his bones weren’t yet tempered.

As for Thunder Blade, Yang Fan had yet to truly master it. Entry required slashing twice in a single instant; three slashes marked minor mastery, six was major, nine was the peak. Three slashes made one set, nine slashes in three sets meant swift killing.

Though his blade speed had increased greatly, Yang Fan was still short of achieving two slashes in an instant.

He repacked his belongings, wondering, “I wonder how the dorms will be reassigned tomorrow.”

He had no choice; as an outsider with no foundation, he really didn’t understand the process.

He’d spent almost all his time in these two months training, rarely stepping out.

Night passed.

Early the next morning, Yang Fan pulled his packed luggage out of the dormitory. Looking back at the place he’d lived for two months, he hoped he might return someday.

This area had the best spiritual energy in the entire freshmen dorm district, which was crucial for martial artists above the third tier.

First and second tier focus on Qi and blood, needing little spiritual energy, but staying in a rich environment helps condense blood energy faster.

Dragging his luggage out, he saw shadows moving everywhere along the path to the teaching building—new students had all arrived, with the last expected before nine.

When Yang Fan reached the teaching building, many others were already gathered in clusters, chatting animatedly. Some clearly knew each other.

“Which academy did you choose?”

“Combat techniques, I heard it’s the most resource-rich and powerful in Shanghai Cultivation Academy.”

“Yes, Shanghai Cultivation Academy is divided into three main faculties: Combat, Command, and Manufacturing. Combat teaches martial skills, Command focuses on military strategy, and Manufacturing covers weapon forging and medicinal identification.”

People chatted around him, and Yang Fan listened.

“I’ve been here two months and still don’t know any of this—what a waste,” Yang Fan thought, wryly amused.

He’d been so absorbed in cultivation that he never thought to learn about the academy, and Zhou Yiyi hadn’t come to see him since being provoked by Yang Fan last time.

There was no one to ask.

Soon, a group of a dozen people emerged from the teaching building. Their appearances and ages varied wildly.

One middle-aged man suddenly leaped forward, stepped ahead of the crowd, placed his hands on the ground, and shouted, “Rise!”

In an instant, a towering platform five meters high and eight meters wide rose before the students.

The group behind him jumped onto the platform in unison.