Chapter Thirty-Five: My Name is Donkey

Yang Fan walked out of the arena, truly not expecting himself to go and help Mu Qingshan up. He hadn’t done anything to him—just pressed him down until he was seated on the ground. Was there really any need to pull him up? How pretentious.

Leaving the arena behind, Yang Fan headed toward the Resource Exchange Center. It had been some time since he’d last visited. The fat man there had mocked him previously for spending his credits too recklessly, saying he might not be able to come back for a long while. Yang Fan felt it was necessary to show up in front of him again, let him know he had credits once more—not a lot, but at least some!

After finishing last night's task, Yang Fan's credits, which had been reduced to zero, had now climbed back up to thirty. Thirty credits, though, only amounted to three Bone-Tempering Pills.

He kept walking. The Cultivation Academy in Shanghai was vast, and the journey from the Combat Division to the main gate’s Resource Exchange Center took some time. He even stopped by the cafeteria along the way for a meal.

Recently, Yang Fan noticed that his appetite had diminished since he started cultivating. He used to think about three meals a day, but now one meal—or even none—seemed sufficient. As he walked, he pondered how the martial arts novels always claimed that after training, one's appetite would increase, feasting like a king every day. Yet not just himself, it seemed all the new students were less interested in food now.

Of course, these were idle thoughts for Yang Fan. If he were the only one experiencing this, he’d give it serious consideration. But since everyone was the same, it just seemed perfectly normal.

...

Walking on, Yang Fan arrived at the Resource Exchange Building. Entering the main door, he approached the familiar window. Seeing the familiar lump behind the counter, Yang Fan grinned.

The fat man on the other side felt a chill run down his spine. What was with this guy? Why come over and grin without saying a word? Did he eat something bad? He used to barge in shouting, always startling him. Now, the fat man was questioning his own existence.

“What are you doing? Why that stupid grin?” the fat man finally couldn’t hold back and shouted at Yang Fan.

Inwardly, Yang Fan cursed him. Was his perfectly standard smile really a stupid grin? Was the fat man’s brain knocked loose?

“Is this a stupid grin? Such a charming smile—how could it be called stupid?” Yang Fan protested.

The fat man clutched his head, feeling a headache coming on. Charming smile? Charming, my foot! That was clearly a silly grin, rivaling the village idiot next door.

“If you’ve got business, say it. If not, get lost!” the fat man said impatiently, clutching his head.

“Hey, you’ve changed! Your attitude is getting worse. Can’t you provide proper service?” Yang Fan complained.

“I’ve changed? I’ve changed? You dare say I’ve changed? Who’s really changed here? When you first came, you were a pure, innocent boy—a polite new student, respectful and decent. Look at you now! Completely crazy, a lunatic!” the fat man shouted.

This bastard dared say he’d changed? That his attitude wasn’t as good as before? Who forced him to be this way? He treated everyone else just fine, but whenever Yang Fan showed up, he couldn’t help himself. It was infuriating!

“Speak properly, why shout so loudly?” Yang Fan muttered.

“What did you say? I’m shouting loudly? Who forced me? Who? It’s all your fault!” The fat man was on the verge of exploding.

Yang Fan realized he couldn’t let it continue, fearing the fat man might burst a blood vessel. Honestly, Yang Fan felt he had changed a lot. When he first left the borderlands, everything was novel, everyone was worthy of respect, and he even felt a bit inferior—despite discovering his first-grade cultivation talent, he still felt inadequate. Yet somewhere along the way, he started to change.

He hadn’t noticed until the fat man shouted it out—now it struck him. He’d become more confident, more talkative, even a bit mischievous. And it all seemed to begin after his first kill.

Yang Fan’s thoughts drifted, but reality refused to let him daydream.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you now? First a silly grin, then zoning out in front of me? Am I really that easy to bully? Let me tell you, I’m a fourth-grade martial artist—good enough to be a mentor at other academies. Is it really okay for you to act like this in front of me?” the fat man glared at Yang Fan, feeling utterly powerless. He really wanted to thrash this guy, but academy rules forbade it, leaving him frustrated.

Yang Fan snapped back to reality, seeing the fat man’s exasperated expression. What did he mean, zoning out? He was contemplating life, wasn’t he?

Forget it. Continuing this back-and-forth with the fat man was pointless—it only ended with each stabbing the other’s heart.

“Two second-grade Bone-Tempering Pills, and repair my knife or replace it—it’s chipped, the quality’s poor!” Yang Fan handed over his knife.

The fat man took the knife wordlessly and went to the storage room; he really didn’t want to talk to Yang Fan anymore. Too annoying! Complaints about the quality? It was forged from ordinary steel; even the best would dull after repeated use, and chips were inevitable after clashing with other weapons. If you want durability, try switching to an alloy weapon!

Before long, the fat man returned, carrying a small bottle and a new knife. Passing them to Yang Fan, he kept his face cold and said nothing, deducting twenty-one credits from Yang Fan’s account, leaving him with only single digits.

Yet the fat man was a bit surprised—Yang Fan’s credit-earning rate was high. How many credits had he spent since his first visit? Nearly two hundred, maybe more. The fat man couldn’t remember exactly, but it certainly wasn’t a trivial amount!

Yang Fan took the bottle and the new knife, slightly puzzled. Weren’t weapons supposed to take time to prepare? How did he get one so quickly this time?

“Hey, aren’t weapons usually delayed? Why so fast this time?” Yang Fan asked.

“What do you mean, ‘hey’? Don’t I have a name? You’ve really gotten arrogant. I’m your senior, my cultivation is higher, my rank superior. Acting so disrespectfully—is your skin itching?” The fat man grew agitated again. Every time, Yang Fan just called him ‘hey, hey, hey’—did he not have a name?

Yang Fan felt awkward. It was true—he’d never actually asked the fat man’s name.

“So, what’s your name?” Yang Fan asked meekly, admitting his fault.

“Remember this—I am Ma Hu. If you dare call me ‘hey’ again, I’ll break regulations just to teach you a lesson,” the fat man declared with a commanding air, though his chubby face made it comical.

Yang Fan was thrown off balance by the fat man’s self-introduction. Ma Hu? Was that really a good name? If he bore that name, he’d hesitate to tell anyone—he’d rather be called ‘hey’ than Ma Hu.

How much must the fat man’s parents have disliked him to give him that name?

“Ma Hu, a fine name, Senior—it suits you well!” Yang Fan recovered from his shock and replied.

At this moment, Yang Fan no longer cared why he could pick up the knife immediately. All he wanted now was to leave quickly and find a quiet place to laugh out loud!

“No need for flattery. Though my surname is Ma, flattering me won’t do you any good!” the fat man said smugly.

“Of course, I know flattery is useless. Donkey Senior, I’ll be off now!” With that, Yang Fan grabbed his things and dashed off, laughing as he ran.

...

The fat man sat stunned in his chair. What had that bastard just called him? Donkey Senior?

“You little brat, don’t run if you have the guts—let’s settle this one-on-one!” the fat man shouted, rising to his feet.

Too much! Too outrageous! Too shameless! Too cunning!

He was to blame, really—thinking back, maybe being called ‘hey’ wasn’t so bad. The nickname ‘Donkey’ hadn’t been used for years; he’d nearly forgotten it. Ever since becoming a cultivator, few dared call him that!

...

Yang Fan’s stomach hurt from laughter as he ran out of the Resource Exchange Building. Too amusing, too funny. Someone really named Ma Hu?

All the way back to his dormitory, Yang Fan was still relishing the joke. He felt he could laugh about it for a lifetime.

Returning to his room, Yang Fan entered the training chamber. He hadn’t practiced diligently lately—apart from his daily stance training, he hadn’t cultivated his qi and blood or practiced with his knife for several days.

Cultivation was like rowing upstream—if you didn’t advance, you’d fall back.

Upon careful inspection, his bones, which had turned reddish before, were now fading.

And as for his knife, during the recent freshman competition, Yang Fan noticed he hadn’t made much progress. He no longer felt the same edge he had when facing those from the Shadow Realm. Defeating Mu Qingshan relied purely on brute force.

...

In the training chamber, Yang Fan swallowed a second-grade Bone-Tempering Pill and began cultivating his qi and blood.

The pill entered his stomach, and its medicinal power exploded instantly.

Yang Fan expertly directed the energy and his blood to strike at his bones. Wave after wave, the once-pale bones began to redden again. One day, when all his bones turned red, Yang Fan would reach the peak of second grade.

Though Yang Fan still wasn’t sure what cultivation truly brought him, or why he should strive so hard, he felt he had nothing else to do but cultivate.

He’d wandered around Shanghai, pondered many things, but some realizations only came belatedly.

After several days in the city, he hardly knew what he was doing, feeling as if his life suddenly became aimless.

He’d intended to clear his head, but instead, he accumulated new worries.

This feeling was a mystery to Yang Fan.

Everyone said that youth knows no sorrow, but was that really so?

At this fervent age, could one truly live like a tranquil pond?

If Yang Fan had remained an ordinary person, perhaps he could’ve lived that way.

But as a cultivator, he couldn’t afford to be so complacent.

At the very least, he needed the strength to protect himself.

Martial artists must compete—this was indeed a fierce world!