Chapter Thirty-Two

Xu Lei gazed at Cheng Yuan, who sat before him exuding a lazy air, his eyes filled with admiration for such a formidable figure. In a hushed tone, he said, “Brother, you’re amazing, you actually dare to skip school.” Cheng Yuan let out a sigh, his expression one of helplessness. He waved his hand and replied quietly, “Just the basics, nothing special.” Xu Lei thought inwardly, “As expected of a true master—so humble!”

When Cheng Yuan turned his attention to the blackboard, a unique scholarly aura emerged; he listened attentively and quickly immersed himself in the lesson. “Today’s class is about the practical techniques of Object Manipulation. Pay close attention, everyone.” Cheng Yuan read his book while glancing at the blackboard. “Don’t think of Object Manipulation as a flashy sword-controlling trick. Don’t imagine you can use it to slay anomalies with a sword. Without Taoist spells imbued, an ordinary sword is useless against those phantasmal entities. In real combat, don’t restrict yourselves to swords and such. Take me, for example.”

The teacher, a burly man, pointed upward, and the chalk pieces in the box collectively floated into the air. With a wave of his hand, they shot across the room, smashing into the blackboard on the opposite wall and shattering to pieces—without a speck of dust falling to the floor. Then, as if drawn by invisible strings, the fragments flew back into the chalk box. “Zhao Kan, fetch a box of chalk from the office after class.” “Understood.”

The teacher nodded in satisfaction and continued, “In real situations, use whatever the environment provides. Throwing a stone from the roadside hurts plenty. If your mental strength is great enough, you can lift a fist-sized rock five or six meters high—if you aim well, even an anomaly struck by it will be crippled if not killed outright. Though it’s hard to master, Object Manipulation is extremely practical. No matter what career you pursue, it will serve you well.”

Cheng Yuan listened with keen interest. Suddenly, a system prompt appeared before his eyes: “Would you like to learn ‘Object Manipulation’? Current compatibility: 150%.” Cheng Yuan’s eyes lit up. Such high compatibility! Why wait? He learned it at once.

A few minutes later, as Xu Lei found the basic Taoist technique both difficult and dull, he whispered, “Brother Cheng, do you know Object Manipulation?”

Cheng Yuan pondered for a moment, glanced at the chalk box, and when the teacher turned his back, hooked his finger ever so slightly. A piece of chalk slowly floated up, crept out of the box, and then began inching along the wall toward Cheng Yuan.

For a moment, the entire class held its breath. Xu Lei’s eyes widened—he had truly encountered a master. The teacher turned around, noticing the students weren’t looking at him but rather in his direction. Cheng Yuan sat upright, the picture of studiousness, but the teacher sensed something was off and looked down to see a piece of chalk on the floor. What was so interesting about a piece of chalk?

With a casual flick of Object Manipulation, the teacher picked it up. Cheng Yuan found the technique akin to fishing with a rod—tricky to hook, and resolved to keep practicing.

After class, Cheng Yuan hurried to the lectern, grabbed a half-used chalk, and began practicing Object Manipulation again. The chalk floated up and down, sometimes falling only to be drawn up again—a sign his strength gave out before he tried once more.

Xu Lei was about to speak, but before he could say anything, the other students crowded around. “How did you do that? Cheng, could you teach us?” Cheng Yuan, puzzled by their sudden attention, asked, “You don’t know how? It’s really quite simple. I’m still not very skilled at it myself.”

A girl with twin ponytails shook her head and replied, “Object Manipulation is highly innate, studies say it’s linked to mental strength. But mental strength is hard to improve—immersing oneself in classics like the Book of Changes is about the only way. Could you describe what it feels like to use Object Manipulation?”

Cheng Yuan considered for a moment; to him, Object Manipulation was fundamentally a method of utilizing mental strength. As someone who’d cultivated meditation to level four, his mental faculties surpassed the norm, so as long as he understood the technique, he could use it. But for those lacking mental strength, it was indeed hard to learn—like knowing you need sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter to make a bomb, but having none of them; knowledge alone is useless.

Rather than describe the sensation, it made more sense to improve their mental strength directly. So he said, “How about I teach you a skill you can practice at home?” Cheng Yuan then imparted his meditation technique, unconcerned about sharing it. Meditation was a staple skill for all trainers, originating from a magical civilization, yet highly adaptable—anyone with a mind could practice it, even in a world bereft of magic.

Another class went by, and when the afternoon’s courses ended, Cheng Yuan left school immediately. Focused on getting home, he was oblivious to the fact that he’d just patched a fatal gap in an entire civilization’s knowledge. He retrieved his little tiger and continued along the route of the 609 bus.

After two hours of travel, Cheng Yuan had encountered all manner of bizarre monsters. As he approached the third-to-last stop, ominously named the ‘Two-Legged Dolphin Slaughterhouse’, he spotted a swirling vortex of brilliant white light in the middle of the main road. “Found it!”

Finally, he could leave. Just as Cheng Yuan prepared to cross, he realized he couldn’t—it was in the middle of the road. “A detour, then. No problem.” He hailed a cab, and as the somewhat dazed driver circled the area, Cheng Yuan’s body vanished the instant they passed through the vortex. The driver, transfixed by what he’d just witnessed, shouted that he’d seen something supernatural, and was so startled he nearly rear-ended another car.

Cheng Yuan found himself in a dense forest surrounded by many such vortices. He checked his phone. “I’m back, but still outside the city. I have to walk back.”

Meanwhile, Cheng’s father had returned home from work to find his son missing and immediately called the police. Through surveillance, they saw Cheng Yuan taking the 609 bus out of the city. Cheng’s mother broke down in tears—beyond the city limits lay countless unknown, terrifying scenarios, and her son’s contracted creatures were all still infants. Encountering danger would likely mean certain death.

She clutched the police officer’s hand, pleading, “You must help me find my son, I beg you.” “We understand,” the officer replied.

Using his phone’s navigation, Cheng Yuan returned home within an hour. “Strange, why is the house dark?” Finding no one at home, not even Nana, Cheng Yuan went out for a meal, then returned, took off his shoes, and soon, with his little tiger and the Barbarian Marsh Lizard, bathed, locked up, and went to bed. Though there was no school tomorrow, he planned to meditate. After a day wandering through scenarios, he was exhausted.

Entering deep sleep, half an hour later Nana returned, sniffed the air, found something odd, but seeing the Cheng couple’s gloomy faces, could only try to comfort them.

By morning, Cheng’s mother sat in her chair, not bothering to make breakfast, her expression bleak. Cheng’s father sat in the balcony, chain-smoking and skipping work. “There’s still no news. Could our son already be…” Just then, a voice called out, “Mom, is there breakfast?” “I didn’t cook.” “Then I’ll go out to eat.” “Go ahead.” The sound of the door closing jolted them both from their stupor.