Chapter 20: I Don’t Eat Beef
Page 1/3
The bald instructor did not explain what cultivation aptitude was; the foundational knowledge of the three major paths had long been taught by the Fourth Academy.
The Immortal Path primarily cultivates the spirit, but it is not limited to the spirit alone.
This is because essence, energy, and spirit complement each other.
Starting with the spirit as a guide onto the path of cultivation, one refines the body, opens the meridians, generates spiritual power, nurtures the soul... Ultimately, essence, energy, and spirit unify, the three flowers converge atop the head, achieving the primordial spirit.
Currently, the strongest Immortal player in the Federation has reached the primordial spirit realm, able to manipulate matter with their primordial spirit, effortlessly carrying out movements... Saying they could move mountains or fill seas may be an exaggeration, but not by much.
Since this path is led by the spirit, aptitude can naturally be roughly estimated through the intensity of soul perception.
Graduates stepped forward one by one before the bald instructor, their gazes fixed on the visualization chart, their eyes becoming dull momentarily before regaining clarity.
“Aptitude: Level 3.”
“Aptitude: Level 1.”
“Hm, you are suited for the Subhuman Path...”
Soon, Chen Ran returned from her test, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
She had astonishingly measured a Level 6 aptitude!
This was truly a prodigy among prodigies.
Across the Federation’s aptitude records, she ranked among the top tier.
Cao Yu was happy for her, praising her a few words before approaching the bald instructor.
“...” The bald instructor’s expression turned stern and intimidating. “Cao Yu, what are you stirring up?”
“Don’t worry, teacher. Surely you can see I’ve embarked on the Superhuman Path,” Cao Yu smiled. “I’m just a bit curious about my cultivation aptitude.”
“...Forget it. You know the dangers of pursuing multiple paths simultaneously, so I won’t say more,” the bald instructor said gravely. “Remember, just test once. Whether high or low, don’t take it seriously!”
Cao Yu nodded, then looked at the visualization chart.
It was a semi-transparent human figure seated cross-legged, five centers facing upward, all acupuncture points marked—its posture reminiscent of meditation scenes from immortal novels.
Behind the figure, the background looked at first like the cosmic starry sky, but upon closer inspection resembled a mysterious, abyss-like ocean.
The painting seemed almost magical; after staring at it for more than two seconds, Cao Yu was guided into an introspective state.
He saw the full detail of his meridians—internal vision revealing all meridian details indicated Level 1 aptitude.
Then he saw the outline of his spirit—this was Level 2 aptitude.
Focusing intently on the spirit’s outline, the details gradually became clearer—the spirit consisted of three souls and seven souls (san hun qi po), with seven souls manifesting outward, three souls hidden inward.
The standard for clarity was the detail discerned of the seven souls; for each additional soul clearly seen, aptitude rose one level.
He saw four of these souls clearly.
Starting from Level 2, adding four levels... He was also Level 6 aptitude?
Cao Yu was quite surprised.
Huh? Was he a cultivation prodigy?
The system’s evaluation of The Secret Immortal Record mentioned that a person could not have exceedingly high talent on all three major paths at once... Oh, his superpowers were purchased, so it made sense.
“What level?” The bald instructor’s question brought Cao Yu back to reality.
Just as he wanted to brush it off with a lie, the bald instructor shook his head.
“Forget it, level doesn’t matter. I remind you, life is precious and only once—don’t mess around!”
“Teacher, I cherish my life,” Cao Yu promised. “This lifetime, I’m bound only to the Superhuman Path! No other possibilities.”
“As long as you understand that,” the bald instructor nodded. “Alright, go back.”
...
Returning to his seat, Chen Ran immediately grabbed him and asked,
“What level?”
It was clear she wanted to use this question to boast about her Level 6 aptitude, then comfort Cao Yu, savoring a little secret delight.
In such a moment of triumph, Cao Yu, not wanting to dampen her spirits, played along, letting his good friend enjoy her moment.
Meanwhile, he glanced at the system’s shop.
[Level 1 Aptitude: 100 Achievement Points]
[Level 1 to 2 Upgrade: 200 Achievement Points]
[Level 2 Aptitude: 300 Achievement Points]
[Level 2 to 3...]
Aptitude could be purchased directly or upgraded based on one’s current level.
Seeing all seven souls clearly signified Level 9 aptitude.
Page 2/3
Beyond Level 9, one could see the three hidden souls; each additional soul discerned raised aptitude by one level.
There were twelve levels in total.
Levels 1 through 9 were priced reasonably.
This relieved Cao Yu.
At Level 6, he only needed 2,000 achievement points to reach Level 7, meeting the minimum requirement to cultivate The Secret Immortal Record.
From Level 10 onward, prices skyrocketed... To give perspective, Level 9 was like a prodigy from a small sect, while Level 10 was equivalent to a true disciple of a great immortal sect.
Above that were saintly heirs and heiresses.
Anyway, he couldn’t afford those anytime soon.
...
The aptitude testing phase concluded quickly.
Some were excited, some calm, some lamented.
Within the three categories of players, a hierarchy of disdain existed.
Superhuman players sat at the top, looking down on all.
Immortal players occupied the middle tier.
Subhuman players were at the bottom.
But Cao Yu knew this was a misunderstanding born from the Federation world’s backwardness and ignorance of the true potential of Subhuman players.
He had thought the same before.
Fortunately, his system shop had plenty of information about cultivation methods and genetic bloodlines, correcting his perception of the three major paths.
Now, he was curious about how to access other numbered worlds.
Especially that “Spirit Realm” which created The Secret Immortal Record—he wondered how advanced their cultivation culture was.
At that moment,
the bald instructor’s voice rang out formally and solemnly in the classroom:
“From this moment on, you... officially graduate. The Special Affairs Bureau’s job offers will be sent to your phones within a week; be sure to check.
The latest departure from school is the day after tomorrow. Remember to clean your dorms before leaving.
Finally...”
He paused, his expression softening somewhat.
“I won’t be overly sentimental, so I’ll just give you a blessing: May there be light in your heart, a path beneath your feet, and a brilliant future without limits.”
Applause erupted.
But it wasn’t from the students.
Everyone turned toward the classroom door, where three men in uniform stood.
The leader was a young man with hawk-like sharp eyes; he clapped and smiled:
“Teacher Wang said it well.”
The hawk-eyed man glanced inside the classroom:
“These graduates are quite decent.”
...
The bald instructor’s gaze grew stern, though his face showed no surprise, as if this moment had been anticipated.
Among these students, one named Wang Cheng, a privileged son with a complicated background, had died.
Though unwilling to admit it, the bald instructor knew Wang Cheng was not like ordinary students; his death was not something that could be dismissed with mere condolences.
Turning to face the hawk-eyed man squarely, his voice carried an oppressive weight:
“Special Affairs Bureau is recruiting early at the Fourth Academy? Tell me, who have you got your eyes on?”
“Teacher Wang, we are here to investigate Wang Cheng’s death,” the hawk-eyed man’s tone turned serious. “We suspect Wang Cheng died not from the dungeon crisis but from conflicts among students, leading to a private vendetta.”
“Nonsense!” the bald instructor shouted angrily. “Wang Cheng entered the dungeon with a D-class item. Tell me, which student could threaten his safety?”
“Teacher, that’s not necessarily true.”
Suddenly, a student spoke up from within the classroom:
“One of us achieved an ‘A+’ rating in the dungeon. Everyone knows what ‘A+’ means—players of such caliber are far more dangerous than any D-class item.”
“Liu Xiong, what do you mean by that?!” the bald instructor glared furiously.
He hadn’t even left yet, and someone was already causing trouble, not taking him seriously!
Liu Xiong, speaking out of jealousy, was somewhat intimidated by the bald instructor’s presence.
But having spoken, and attracting the Special Affairs Bureau’s attention, now was no time to back down.
He braced himself and continued:
Page 3/3
“Teacher, I’m just stating a possibility. What if the person who got the ‘A+’ rating and Wang Cheng entered the same dungeon, and upon seeing Wang Cheng’s D-class item, harbored murderous intent... Such incidents have happened among the first graduating class of the Fourth Academy!”
“Who got the ‘A+’ rating?” the hawk-eyed man asked, scanning the classroom.
All eyes fell on Cao Yu.
Cao Yu remained calm and replied plainly:
“I entered the same dungeon as Chen Ran and Zhou Fan. I never met Wang Cheng.”
The hawk-eyed man smiled, producing a finely crafted wooden carving out of thin air.
He said:
“This is an E-class item called ‘Gaze of Truth.’ When someone looks into it, their mind is subtly influenced, making them unable to lie.
Young man, you are quite talented. We’ll likely be colleagues soon. However... orders come from above, so I must be professional.
Do you mind if I ask you some questions? Rest assured, this item has no harmful effects. And with Teacher Wang here, I wouldn’t dare play tricks.”
His tone was courteous, showing no disdain for Cao Yu’s youth or seeming weakness.
Those who achieved “A+” ratings were promising talents; he wouldn’t risk offending them without cause.
At that moment, the hawk-eyed man inwardly cursed Liu Xiong twice for being so talkative, forcing him to tread carefully.
“...” Cao Yu actually minded quite a bit.
Although Wang Cheng’s death was unrelated to him, he carried many secrets!
What if they asked about his superpower—was it really “Two Worlds”?
How could he answer?
Yet, there was no room to refuse.
He smiled and said, “I don’t mind.”
The hawk-eyed man smiled in return, approached Cao Yu, aligning the wooden carving with his eyes, then asked:
“Did you kill Wang Cheng?”
“No.”
“Did you meet Wang Cheng in the dungeon?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had conflicts with Wang Cheng before?”
“No.”
“I’m done asking. Thank you for your cooperation.”
The hawk-eyed man put away the wooden carving.
At that moment, a strong murderous intent grew in Cao Yu’s heart.
Though the hawk-eyed man hadn’t asked any private questions, this passive predicament caused by baseless suspicion was deeply displeasing.
After all, he had too many secrets.
‘The Liu family...’
Casting a subtle glance at Liu Xiong, Cao Yu smirked coldly inside, though his face showed no emotion.
He had murderous intent, but this was not the time to act.
With the “Seven Killing Lord” ability, he would soon become the strongest player in the Federation, and not long—at most a year—he could kill whoever he wished and do whatever he desired.
Then, he would make certain people understand what it meant to say, “I don’t eat beef.”
Liu Xiong, of course, was unaware he had invited death upon himself, possibly endangering his entire family.
To him, he had merely voiced some petty grievances—how could that be a big deal?
Unfortunately, the world did not revolve around him.
Meanwhile, under the cold gaze of the bald instructor, the hawk-eyed man questioned other graduates using the lie-detecting device.
He intended to question everyone.
Liu Xiong’s meddling had forced him to question the highly promising Cao Yu first.
That was the problem with fools—they always managed to cause trouble on a whim.
“None of them... have encountered him?”
The test results surprised the hawk-eyed man.
No student had met Wang Cheng in the dungeon?