Chapter Twenty-Six: System, Do You Have Any Shame? (Please Add to Favorites, Please Recommend!)-Global Detachment(What purpose lies ahead on this journey?)

The early days of February grew even colder. Winter was exerting its final might, proclaiming it had not yet departed. At this moment, Yang Fan was making his way toward the Resource Exchange Building.

After completing a mission, aside from the tempering of one’s own abilities, resources were of utmost importance. Hoarding resources without using them was meaningless. The true way of a cultivator was to use every available resource to raise one's strength as quickly as possible.

Upon entering the Resource Exchange Building, Yang Fan found it no longer deserted. Both upperclassmen and freshmen now came and went frequently. The upperclassmen, who had accumulated a wealth of credits through missions during the holidays, and the freshmen, who received basic credits upon admission, were all exchanging these for cultivation resources.

Yang Fan made his way, as usual, toward the desk where the chubby attendant worked.

Truth be told, Yang Fan now preferred redeeming items at the chubby attendant’s counter. He had too few friends, and these days, apart from cultivation and missions, he barely interacted with anyone. He barely remembered the names of his classmates anymore, except for Tan Hao, who occasionally sought him out. The others, he hadn’t seen or spoken to in a long time.

Zhou Yiyi’s lifestyle was similar—rarely attending classes, dedicating all her time to cultivation and missions, so she and Yang Fan hadn’t met in a while. Zhou Ting, as rumor had it, had already gone to the Ruins. Back when Chen Haoran said he’d have Li Xian challenge Zhou Ting, she’d waited for some time. After completing a few missions with Zhou Yiyi, she departed for the Ruins, advising Yang Fan before she left to take things step by step and not to set his goals too high at once.

Obediently, Yang Fan, already a second-rank martial artist, continued to take on first-rank missions. His exploits had become the stuff of legend in the mission building.

As for the chubby attendant, he was like an anchor in the Resource Exchange Building—always there, seemingly never leaving. Although he didn’t look much older than Yang Fan and claimed to be a student rather than a mentor, Yang Fan had never seen him take on a single mission. When pressed, the chubby attendant simply changed the subject.

“Hey, I’m here!” Yang Fan called to the chubby attendant across the counter.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re here. Do you have to be so loud every time? Are you ill?” the chubby attendant complained, annoyed as always by Yang Fan’s booming greeting.

“I just don’t want you to doze off,” Yang Fan replied with a cheeky grin.

“Doze off, my ass! With so many people and so much to do, who has time to sleep? Besides, can’t you see I’m awake? You must be doing this on purpose,” the chubby attendant retorted, exasperated.

There was a time when the chubby attendant could always fluster Yang Fan, but now the tables had turned. This kid had become sharp-tongued and hard to provoke.

“I’m an orphan. No sister to introduce you to. And, honestly, yes—I’m doing it on purpose. Hahaha!” Yang Fan burst out laughing.

It was cathartic. After all the killing and missions, needling the chubby attendant was a surprisingly effective way to relieve stress, even though Yang Fan no longer felt much psychological burden from killing.

From the chubby attendant’s perspective, Yang Fan had gone astray.

“…Well, what do you want to redeem? Hurry up,” the chubby attendant said, now resigned, eager to get Yang Fan out as quickly as possible.

“What’s wrong with chatting a bit? It’s been a while,” Yang Fan replied awkwardly.

“No chatting. Just tell me what you want!” The chubby attendant’s face darkened; he really wanted nothing more than to avoid conversation. He regretted ever provoking this guy.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop messing around. Ten second-grade Bone-Tempering Pills, fifteen second-grade Blood-Recovery Pills. That’s all,” Yang Fan said.

“Rolling in riches now, are we? That’s a big spend. And who’s messing around with you?” the chubby attendant exclaimed, surprised at the hefty 145 credit expenditure. When had Yang Fan amassed so many credits?

“Of course! Now hurry up and bring me my things, I’m pressed for time with my cultivation,” Yang Fan said, savoring the look of incredulity on the chubby attendant’s face.

“You’re in a hurry, yet you waste so much time talking nonsense? Fine, wait here. I’ll get your stuff,” the chubby attendant grumbled, disappearing into the back storeroom.

After a while, he returned, handing Yang Fan two bottles of pills.

“You’ve cleaned yourself out—145 credits, all gone. How does it feel?” he asked, having deducted the credits from Yang Fan’s account.

“Such a small expense? You’re making a fuss over nothing. Open your eyes a bit wider,” Yang Fan scoffed.

Truthfully, Yang Fan felt the pain in his heart, but considering he wanted to take on second-grade missions, he couldn’t help wanting to boost his strength even further. Even though his Thunderblade technique had reached the stage of three slashes in one movement, he knew even greater power and tougher bones would always make things safer.

“My eyes are small? Fine, let’s see how long it is before we meet again!” the chubby attendant replied disdainfully. This kid was definitely bluffing—such a small expense? If only he could stop bragging, maybe they could be friends.

Yang Fan then left the exchange building and returned to his dormitory.

Once inside, Yang Fan resumed his cultivation. If one wanted true strength, wishing wasn’t enough—one had to train.

In the practice room, Yang Fan took out a second-grade Bone-Tempering Pill and swallowed it.

This was his first time using such a pill. Previously, he’d held off, both because he’d been busy with missions and because these pills were outrageously expensive—ten credits each, almost daylight robbery. So even when staying in the academy, Yang Fan had relied on controlling his own energy and blood to temper his bones.

But he realized it was far too slow. Nearly a month had passed since breaking through to the second rank, and he’d only just finished tempering the bones in both arms. With 206 bones in the human body, at this rate, he’d never finish. And this was in Dormitory One, where spiritual energy was abundant and he boasted first-class talent.

So today, he’d finally steeled himself and redeemed ten of the pills.

As soon as the medicine entered his body, its effects exploded within him. His energy and blood surged once more, but it was different from the first grade. At the first rank, the surging blood produced energy that infused the flesh, but now, as a second-rank cultivator, that power sank deeper, entering the bones. Previously, only the bones in Yang Fan’s arms glowed with a reddish hue; now, under the immense vitality, red dots began to appear throughout his entire skeleton.

Again, Yang Fan marveled at how much medicinal pills could aid cultivation. If only they weren’t so expensive, there’d be nothing difficult about this path.

He returned to the cycle of blade practice, stance holding, and cultivation.

…

A loud shout suddenly echoed through Dormitory One in the freshman residential area.

Yang Fan was half-kneeling on the floor, face radiant with excitement.

“It’s done! Three slashes in one movement—finally! That nearly killed me,” he said, standing up with his blade in hand.

Ten days had passed since he’d last visited the exchange. The pills were nearly gone—only one Bone-Tempering Pill and six Blood-Recovery Pills remained. But the results were remarkable.

Most of his bones had been tempered, and Yang Fan estimated his punch now had at least 1,200 jin of force. At the peak of the second rank, strength reached around 2,000 jin, and he was already more than halfway there—in just ten days.

Moreover, his Thunderblade technique had reached the stage of three strikes in one movement—a significant leap from the beginner’s two. The difference between “small mastery” and “entry level” was immense.

After the excitement faded, Yang Fan regained his composure.

“Time to take on a new mission—a second-rank one this time. There’s no fun in bullying first-rank opponents anymore. Wait, I haven’t used the system’s lottery for advancing to the second rank yet. I’ll do that before taking a mission.”

He silently summoned the system, and data appeared before his eyes:

Host: Yang Fan
Level: Second rank
Title: Student of the Metropolitan Cultivation Academy
Wealth: 1,952,830
Vital Sea: 0.6
Spirit: 11.17
Available Points: 1951
Assignable Points: Vital Sea+, Spirit+
Shop: Not yet unlocked
Lottery Draws: 1

His spirit had increased by 0.02, and his wealth had grown by 650,000—rewards from the credits he’d earned on recent missions.

Yang Fan then silently activated the lottery.

The familiar darkness, the same spinning wheel, the same button—nothing had changed.

He pressed the button. The wheel spun.

“I wonder what it’ll be this time. Hopefully something useful,” he thought.

As the thought crossed his mind, the pointer slowed and finally stopped in a section marked with a pair of eyes.

He exited the lottery space.

No sooner had he regained awareness than his eyes began to sting and tears streamed uncontrollably.

He wiped at his eyes, but the stinging turned to itching, then to searing pain. Clutching his face, Yang Fan rolled on the floor in agony.

It was pure torment. So far, every lottery draw had been excruciating—never a comfortable experience.

Moreover, the rewards never seemed immediately useful. The lightning power had been weak at first, only improving through cultivation. The second prize, a silver sheet, had boosted his spirit, but aside from better memory, didn’t seem to do much.

Now, his eyes—he had no idea what would change, but the pain was all too real. It wasn’t as agonizing as the last time, when his spirit skyrocketed, but it was still miserable.

He didn’t faint from the pain, but as he endured, he mentally cursed the system over and over.

The torment lasted for about half an hour, during which Yang Fan howled incessantly. If it weren’t class time, someone would have surely broken down his door.

Slowly, the pain faded, and his vision gradually returned, though still blurred at first.

As things came back into focus, Yang Fan was dumbfounded.

There seemed to be no change at all.

He opened the system again:

No change in any of the data, except for the lottery count now at zero.

Yang Fan, frustrated, tested his eyes—no difference whatsoever. No change in color, shape, not even a reduction of bloodshot streaks.

He was stunned. Had he just endured half an hour of agony for nothing? Were there punishments in the lottery? Had he drawn a bad result?

He couldn’t be sure, but his distrust of the system deepened. No instructions, no guidance, just a row of data and no explanations.

The first two times at least gave him something to use. This time, it acted directly—no negotiation.

Yang Fan wanted to shout: “System, do you even have any shame?”