Volume One: First Signs of Brilliance Chapter Seven: Far Too Expensive to Afford

Staring at the two thousand yuan his mother had left before she departed, Wang Jue felt utterly bewildered. Counting the one thousand she’d given him earlier, it amounted to exactly three thousand. Perhaps this sum was nothing to a wealthy family, but for his own, it was no small feat for his mother to scrape together such an amount. Even though their noodle shop did decent business, after deducting all costs, the actual profit barely reached two or three thousand a month. In other words, his mother had essentially handed over an entire month’s profit—an entire month of their hard-earned labor, given to him without reservation.

At the same time, Wang Jue realized that while his family had once supported his path toward becoming a martial artist—before they truly understood what that world entailed—now, having seen the reality, their sensitivity to the dangers was far greater than he had imagined. Naturally, they could no longer support him as unconditionally as before. Still, he knew well in his heart that his family’s concern was genuine, their worry entirely for his sake.

Had he been an ordinary middle schooler, perhaps he would have thrown a rebellious tantrum at this point. However, Wang Jue, who had lived two lifetimes, felt such rebellion was pointless. His family situation simply didn’t allow for childish petulance. Moreover, while he was only sixteen in body, his mind—counting his previous life—was approaching fifty. With this maturity, he certainly wouldn’t do anything so thoughtless.

Wang Jue reached for the two thousand yuan by his bed, then pulled another thousand from his own pocket and placed them together. He understood this was probably all the money his mother could spare, perhaps even dipping into their savings. If he guessed correctly, this was the emergency fund his mother had kept for unexpected situations. Now that she’d given it all to him, it meant that should something arise requiring money, his mother might find herself unable to produce the needed cash.

“Sharp-tongued but soft-hearted,” he mused. “Saying it’s for shopping—what ordinary middle school kid has three thousand to spend on luxuries?” At that moment, Wang Jue couldn’t help but feel moved. It was clear to him that, though his mother outwardly objected to his cultivation, she supported him in her actions—otherwise, she wouldn’t have handed over such a substantial sum. She called it shopping money, but it was really for him to buy nutritional supplements; without them, his body would never recover or receive the nourishment it needed, and continuing martial training would only harm him.

Should he continue his training? The question weighed on him. For the first time, he truly understood the meaning behind the saying, “Literature is for the poor, martial arts for the wealthy.” Holding the three thousand yuan, its weight felt both literal and figurative, and his mood was tangled and conflicted.

Initially, he had intended to return the money to his mother. But knowing her temperament, she would not only refuse, she might even believe she hadn’t given enough and find more from their savings to press into his hands. To avoid such misunderstandings, Wang Jue finally gave up on the idea of returning the money and decided to accept it without guilt. After all, it was his mother’s ‘pocket money’ for her son.

Thinking it over, Wang Jue realized he currently had no urgent use for the money, so he simply placed it at his bedside and covered it with his pillow for safekeeping. He would keep it for now, ready for any future emergencies—whether for himself or his family.

Having put the money away, Wang Jue planned to lie down again, but his gaze fell on the computer on his desk. Suddenly he thought, what could be more convenient than searching the internet for answers? The computers on Azure Star worked much the same as those on Earth, with the only real difference being the operating system.

After all, technology and the internet were inseparable; if the technology of Azure Star had surpassed Earth’s by several levels, so too would its internet. It took Wang Jue a while to familiarize himself with the system, but soon he was navigating smoothly. He opened the browser and searched for “martial artist,” and instantly a flood of information appeared.

He registered an account on an online marketplace and found it offered not only cultivation manuals and martial techniques, but also all manner of weapons and protective gear, various potions, information about wilderness areas, and even a section for selling items—though the buyback prices were only a third or half of the selling price.

The dazzling array of goods left Wang Jue almost drooling, wishing he could buy them all. But when he saw the long string of zeroes following each price, he sobered up instantly. He began searching for techniques and skills that might suit him.

“Damn, basic martial skills are this expensive? They’re a hundred out there, but two hundred here? That’s double the price—downright greedy!”

“Fist technique—Tiger Strike, Black Iron grade, price: 110,000.”

“Movement technique—Shadow Step, Black Iron grade, price: 200,000.”

“Saber technique—Blazing Blade, Black Iron grade, price: 150,000.”

“Sword technique—Windchaser Sword, Black Iron grade, price: 160,000.”

“…Wait, there’s only one basic cultivation manual? ‘Qi Refining Method’? That sounds almost fantastical.”

“Strange, I can’t find any Bronze-grade martial skills, or even Black Iron-grade cultivation techniques. Not that I could afford them if I did…”

“My god, the potions are even more expensive than the cultivation manuals and techniques! First-level recovery potion and healing potion are 400,000 and 500,000 respectively—detox potion is an eye-watering 800,000. That’s enough to buy two bottles of recovery potion!”

“They even sell star beast meat. Ordinary, non-ranked star beast meat is 500 a pound—that’s pricey. First-rank star beast meat is 5,000 per pound, ten times higher! Way too expensive for me.”

Because his parents were busy running the shop and no one was home to cook lunch, Wang Jue’s attention was completely absorbed by everything on the online marketplace, and he didn’t even notice it was already midday. In other words, he’d spent the entire morning ‘playing’ on the computer.

Shutting down the browser, Wang Jue leaned back in his chair, his face full of disbelief.

“Seeing all this, I’ve given up for real. Cultivating as a martial artist simply isn’t something a family like mine can afford.”

The sheer volume and cost of the resources available on the marketplace left him disheartened—he simply couldn’t afford any of it!

Though he’d suspected the path of a martial artist would be costly, he hadn’t imagined it would be this expensive. The mighty martial artists, each more fearsome than the last, consumed not only huge quantities of resources in their training but also resources of such staggering price.

“So, the Body Tempering stage is called Martial Artist, and the realm above that is the Spirit Nurturing stage. Within that, a few are known as Awakened—they can awaken all kinds of abilities, and the higher their innate talent, the stronger the ability.”

“There’s a huge gap between regular Spirit Nurturing practitioners and those with awakened powers. While they’re not quite invincible among their peers, they can easily handle several opponents at once, and those with the most powerful abilities are downright terrifying.”

“Low-level martial artists can shatter stone and split wood, even cleave water with a blade. High-level martial artists can not only break mountains and split peaks, but even stir rivers and seas…”

The world of martial artists overwhelmed Wang Jue far more than he could bear; for a while, he was at a loss for words. After a long time, he finally came back to himself. The more he learned about martial artists, the more the flame of his ‘martial heart’—which he had nearly extinguished—was reignited.

Before becoming a martial artist, Wang Jue was no different from an ordinary person—sometimes eating just once or twice a day was normal. But now that he was a martial artist, even though he’d eaten breakfast, his stomach was growling with hunger by midday.

Helpless, he polished off the last pieces of fruit his mother had brought him that morning, then left his room with the empty plate.

In the living room, Wang Jue saw no one; his parents had likely gone to the shop, and his little sister was probably at kindergarten.

A few pieces of fruit did nothing to quell his hunger, and too lazy to cook for himself, Wang Jue decided to head to his family’s noodle shop for a ‘free meal.’

…

An hour later, Wang Jue followed the familiar route to a small noodle shop on a little street in the commercial district. Though called a ‘small’ noodle shop, it wasn’t really that small—the main hall had six or seven tables and over a dozen two-seater benches, enough to show that the ‘small’ in its name had nothing to do with its actual size, but was just a label.

Stepping inside, Wang Jue saw every seat taken by noodle-loving customers. Some were already eating; others sat at empty tables, apparently still waiting for their orders. The patrons barely spared him a glance, assuming he was just another customer, and quickly returned to their phones, conversations, or bowls of noodles.

Wang Jue paid no mind to their looks. He scanned the hall for his parents but didn’t spot them; clearly, they were busy in the kitchen. He nodded at the two servers hustling about in the dining area—a silent greeting.

Then he made his way straight to the backyard. From childhood memory, he knew he’d always eaten in the back when he was little.

Navigating the backyard with practiced ease, Wang Jue was surprised to find it looked different from what he remembered. The dining area from his childhood had been converted into a chicken coop surrounded by mesh netting, with over a dozen chickens inside. On the other side stood two or three large freezers, and a glance inside revealed them packed with vegetables.

Just then, his mother appeared—she’d come to fetch more ingredients for the busy kitchen and was startled to see her son: “Xiao Jue, what brings you to the shop?”

“You forgot to make me lunch this morning, so with nothing to eat, I had to come here—and I’ll help out while I’m at it.” Wang Jue’s tone was completely matter-of-fact, without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

His mother opened the freezer, took out some vegetables, and said, “It’s so busy right now, there’s no time to eat. Your father and I haven’t had lunch yet either. The kitchen’s running low on ingredients, so I came to get some. If you want to help, then kill a chicken for me. I’ll take the vegetables back to your dad.”

“No problem,” Wang Jue agreed at once, stepping into the coop and grabbing a struggling hen.

His mother stared, dumbfounded. “Wait, I said kill a chicken, not just catch one. If you don’t know how, leave it for me.”

“No need.” Wang Jue found a kitchen knife, seized the hen by its neck, and, with an air of perfect seriousness, looked back at his mother—whose exasperation was plain to see.