NOVEL I Can Copy the Talents of All Creatures Chapter 166 - 142: Cultivation, Spring of Tribulation Ashes, News

I Can Copy the Talents of All Creatures

Chapter 166 - 142: Cultivation, Spring of Tribulation Ashes, News
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Chapter 166: Chapter 142: Cultivation, Spring of Tribulation Ashes, News

Later, the Scripture Pavilion changed its rules, setting the prices for these top-tier Cultivation Techniques extremely low in the hopes of screening the masses of ordinary Martial Artists for those with special constitutions.

The policy was a great success. With top-tier Cultivation Techniques priced so low they were practically a bargain, most people were willing to give one or two a try.

’What if? If I could actually master it, it would be a life-changing miracle!’ And indeed, quite a few ordinary Martial Artists with average aptitude later succeeded in their cultivation.

What’s more, after the price reduction, the Scripture Pavilion’s earnings actually increased.

After two hours of cultivating the Pure Yang True Body, the burning sensation turned into a searing pain. The Yang Fire in his mind grew exceedingly dim, and he knew he had reached his limit for the day.

Unless one poured resources into them, Iron Body Skills always required gradual, daily effort. The key was persistence. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Strengthening the Yang Fire required absorbing the violet qi from the east day after day. As a result, Yu Fei’s training schedule was packed to the brim.

He practiced Swordsmanship in the morning, followed by the Pure Yang True Body to temper his physique with Yang Fire. In the afternoon, he cultivated the Taiwei Profound Origin Pillar, and in the evening, he practiced the Three Talents Step until Li Mengyao and Du Mingxuan arrived.

Yu Fei also made a pleasant discovery in his subsequent training. After tempering his body with the Yang Fire, he could extend the time spent opening his five viscera during his pillar exercises by half an hour.

-----------------

New Year’s Day in the year 838 of the New Era was colder than usual. At home, Yu Fei often heard his sister, Yu Wei, complaining that the dry, cold air was making her skin lose its luster. Whenever she did, Yu Fei couldn’t help but glance at her increasingly plump cheeks, on the verge of speaking but always holding his tongue.

Now, their father woke up early every day to personally drive her to school in his Guardian, a vehicle worth 400,000. It was an infinitely better situation than when she had to rely on her own two feet.

Back then, Yu Wei wouldn’t have even turned her nose up at hand-me-downs.

’It’s easy to get used to luxury, but hard to return to a simple life.’

’My sister’s a lost cause.’

Only four months had passed since the great battle, yet it seemed to have faded completely from public consciousness. No one spoke of the cultists’ cruelty or the victims’ misfortune anymore. Even the sudden appearance of Grandmaster Yan Sea and his star pupil, Yu Fei, were topics that had gradually receded into the past.

Time can erase all traces, except for the scars left on people’s hearts.

Cao Le’an, the principal of No. 2 High, often visited the South City Cemetery. Each time, he brought something different: sometimes flowers, sometimes liquor, even cosmetics or a Go board. These small items were the former hobbies of the teachers from his school who had died. He remembered them all. And he remembered his own beloved teacher, Liu Ming.

Today, Cao Le’an had brought a roasted chicken. Back when Liu Ming’s teeth were still strong, he had loved roasted chicken, especially the drumsticks. The memories were still so vivid. ’How unpredictable life is,’ he thought. ’In the blink of an eye, we’re separated by the veil of life and death.’

As he walked up the stone steps, the landscape was a withered yellow, broken only by the dark green of pines and cypresses. From a distance, he spotted a figure with a shock of white hair, drinking sullenly before a grave.

He walked over, sat down beside the man, and snatched the bottle from his hand, taking a long, hard swig.

Empty bottles lay strewn about on the ground.

A cold wind gusted past, whipping their hair about. The two men sat in silence.

They passed the bottle back and forth in silence, and before long, it was empty.

Then, Cao Le’an heard the man beside him speak. His voice was hoarse, as if the words had been lodged in his throat for so long they had scraped it raw.

"The decision on my punishment came down. *Cough*..."

Cao Le’an said nothing, listening quietly.

"I’ve been demoted to a field operations team leader. It was Bu Xiuwen’s old team..."

His voice betrayed no emotion, as calm as a frozen lake. A stone thrown onto it might make a sound, but it wouldn’t create a single ripple.

"But Xiuwen died because of me. I never liked his big mouth, but I wish it had been me who died. And that bastard Ji Kai... I regret not exposing him sooner. Everyone says I have a keen eye for talent. What a joke. A blind dog has a better eye than I do..."

Once the words started, they couldn’t be stopped. Wang Jie’s hair was white, his frame gaunt, his eyes sunken. Cao Le’an remembered the old Mr. Wang, with his broad forehead and pleasantly plump features, always so calm and composed.

’How did he become such a raging alcoholic in such a short time?’

Cao Le’an watched him clutch the tombstone, sobbing and flailing his limbs. After a moment’s thought, Cao Le’an grabbed an empty bottle and smashed it over Wang Jie’s head.

CRACK!

Shards of glass flew through the air. Wang Jie stared at him, stunned. The skull of a second-realm Martial Artist was fairly durable; aside from his hair being even more disheveled, he was unharmed.

Cao Le’an didn’t stop. He kept picking up bottles from the ground and smashing them over Wang Jie’s head, one after another. After he had broken about ten of them, trickles of blood started to run down Wang Jie’s scalp.

Perhaps dazed by the blows, Wang Jie didn’t even try to resist. It wasn’t until he finally touched the blood on his forehead that he asked in a stupor, "What are you doing?"

Cao Le’an didn’t answer. He kicked the back of Wang Jie’s knees, forcing him to the ground. He shoved Wang Jie’s head down, making him kowtow three times before Bu Xiuwen’s tombstone. Then he pulled him up, straightened his clothes, brushed the glass from his hair, and clapped him on the shoulder.

His tone was resolute. "You two are even now. On behalf of Bu Xiuwen, I forgive you. Now go be a good field operations team leader."

Wang Jie stood stunned for a moment, then suddenly broke into gut-wrenching sobs, gasping for air until, a moment later, he passed out.

His mind had been stretched to its breaking point for too long, and his physical condition had deteriorated to an extreme.

Cao Le’an hoisted Wang Jie onto his shoulder. He walked over to his teacher’s grave, gently placed the roasted chicken before it, and then departed.

He dropped Wang Jie off at the school infirmary, asking a nurse to look after him for the night, and then paid him no more mind.

The city’s youth martial arts tournament was coming up. He had originally planned on having a prodigy like Yu Fei sweep the competition this year. But to his surprise, when he read the rules carefully, he found that prodigies weren’t even allowed to participate. ’Well, I’ll be damned.’

Cao Le’an later found out that there would be a "Prodigy Placement Tournament" held in the spring for Martial Artists like him. Participants would be high school seniors from across the nation who had been identified as special talents.

This competition was said to be a sort of special college entrance exam. A student’s ranking would determine the level of resources and treatment they would receive upon enrolling in one of the Seven Great Academies.

’Yu Fei probably doesn’t know about this yet,’ he thought. ’I’ll have to let him know ahead of time.’

School was a flurry of activity. The martial arts instructors assigned by the higher-ups were arriving one by one, but they were still missing a head coach with extensive teaching experience. He decided to have a chat with Yu Fei about it. The top prospects in the intensive training program were all neck and neck, and he knew that choosing any one of them could cause problems.

The next morning, before Cao Le’an could even get going, Wang Jie knocked on his door and came in.

The man wore a clean black jacket, his beard was shaved, and his hair was neat. He looked sharp and capable.

Wang Jie offered a faint smile. "Thank you for yesterday. You knocked some sense into a guilty man. I shouldn’t wallow in self-pity. I can still be of use."

Cao Le’an stood and looked at him, his voice firm and resonant. "By that logic, I’m a guilty man, too. But I don’t see it that way. The human heart is unfathomable. Who could have ever guessed that a vile person like Ji Kai, who hid his true nature for so long, would betray everyone?"

"Besides, reviewing the battle from that day, even though Bu Xiuwen made the ultimate sacrifice, his tactical decisions weren’t entirely perfect."

"But he lived up to the code of an officer and fought valiantly. If he hadn’t found a way to eliminate that Inner Qi Realm cultist, it would have been very difficult for Yu Fei to secure the final victory."

"The dead are gone, Old Wang. No matter your post, don’t forget why you started, and live with no regrets!"

Wang Jie’s expression turned serious. He cupped his fist in a salute. "A valuable lesson."

Watching the reborn Wang Jie turn and leave, Cao Le’an allowed himself a small smile.

’Heh. I’m a master educator. Is there any problem I haven’t seen? Of course I can handle a case like you.’

Wang Jie went straight back to the Martial Arts Administration Bureau. Ignoring the strange looks from his colleagues, he sat down at what was formerly Bu Xiuwen’s desk and calmly began to handle his duties. It was late at night when he finally decided to head home. As he was tidying the desk, organizing the items, he opened the bottom drawer and was surprised to find three bottles of liquor.

It was Spring of Tribulation Ashes, from the Mad Spring Winery. He remembered this liquor had been released to commemorate the victory in the Battle of the Desolate Forest Sea in 814 of the New Era. Very little of it was left in existence. He checked the label—it was indeed from that year. A bottle from that time was exceedingly rare today.

He suddenly remembered. Back when he was at his wit’s end dealing with the cult, he had ordered Bu Xiuwen to go out and buy some food. The man had returned with a few bottles of this very liquor, and Wang Jie had chewed him out for it and told him to put them away.

He remembered Bu Xiuwen putting them in this very drawer.

Wang Jie opened one of the bottles and drained it in a single go. The harsh liquor made him choke, and his eyes reddened. He slumped over the desk, unable to move for a long time.

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