Chapter 43: Cultivating the Heart at Lightning Speed (Part One)

Just as he finished the entire in-class exercise, a cartoonish little star suddenly popped up out of nowhere at the top of the page for the Minor Secret Record. The star shot from the tip of his pen straight toward the progress bar in the upper left corner, collided with a pop, and exploded, while a "+1" floated upward.

The progress bar genuinely grew a tiny bit longer, and its color deepened to a warmer red, as if it had been heated.

Next to the progress bar, a placard sprang up, bearing the words: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step!” The placard wobbled from side to side like a cat’s paw and then retracted.

Shi Tiexin was stunned, his eyes wide as he stared dumbfounded at the slightly lengthened progress bar.

He had no idea who designed this interface, this system, or these special effects, nor where they came from, but he thought the effect was absolutely fantastic.

The sense of feedback was so clear!

Just look at that star, that explosion, the play of light and shadow—then look at that flashy placard. Though the handwriting was truly ugly—almost identical to his own—it undeniably provided a powerful sense of positive reinforcement.

Simply looking at this system interface was enough to fill him with a burning urge to study late into the night, not to mention all those buffs—it really made him reluctant to waste even a moment.

Hmm?

Why was the color of the progress bar now cooling to blue? Did this mean the progress bar had a combo setting? That wouldn’t do—he absolutely couldn’t let it cool down. Strike while the iron’s hot, charge, charge, charge!

Shi Tiexin hurriedly opened the second in-class exercise, grabbed his pen, and continued solving problems. On the right side of his vision, the Minor Secret Record’s progress bar was displayed—a tiny scroll-shaped icon, outlined in bright highlights but empty within.

As Shi Tiexin kept working, the emptiness within the icon slowly filled from the bottom up, the contents shimmering like luminous ripples—quite a striking effect.

Throughout the entire break, Shi Tiexin didn’t budge, sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously. No matter how noisy or rowdy the other students became, he paid them no mind, calculating problem after problem. When the bell rang for class, Shi Tiexin’s pen landed on the final digit, completing the second chapter’s in-class exercise.

But the expected little star did not appear.

Hmm? What was going on?

Shi Tiexin was bewildered. He quickly grabbed the answer key and discovered, to his embarrassment, that he had made three mistakes in his haste. Ashamed that he’d blundered on elementary-level math, he promptly corrected every error. Only after fixing all the mistakes did a star finally shoot out, colliding with a pop against the progress bar.

The cooling progress bar warmed up again, glowing a little redder, while another placard flashed up: “Don’t gallop past the flowers, or you’ll miss their beauty!” It wobbled and then disappeared.

Understanding dawned on Shi Tiexin: so that’s how it is. If you don’t approach the problems seriously and merely rush for speed, you gain no real training benefit. Only by carefully and accurately solving each question could he improve.

This principle held true even without a system—it would never change.

So, thinking further: if he refrained from checking the answers, conquered the problems by his own ability, or independently corrected his mistakes, would he earn even more stars?

No sooner thought than done, Shi Tiexin opened the next in-class exercise, continuing his mental cultivation.

This time, Shi Tiexin didn’t dash off the answers in a frenzy, but calmed himself and faced the problems with quiet focus. Once he concentrated, he slipped back into that curious mental state—half clarity, half enlightenment. It was as if two voices spoke in his head, one an expert showing off skills, the other a slacker cheering from the sidelines.

This remarkable mental state had a direct and dramatic effect, greatly increasing his efficiency in cultivating the first tier of mathematics. The tip of his pen danced across the page—one in-class exercise after another, brain teasers, quizzes, and Q&As fell quickly to his calculations and reasoning.

Even the system’s fonts seemed to sense Shi Tiexin couldn’t be disturbed now; all badges and progress bars faded into transparency, leaving only the endless stream of problems before his eyes. Yet these dull exercises seemed to transform into steps of a staircase. With each completed problem, he felt as if he were climbing, step by step, from the abyss toward the sky.

Climbing was hard and painful, but the focused mind paid no heed to the passage of time.

When Shi Tiexin finally came to himself, the bell signaling the end of class was ringing.

“Brother Shi, Brother Shi!” Zhou Nan tiptoed over and said, in the tone of a servant greeting his master, “Brother Shi, school’s out. If you don’t leave soon, they’ll turn the lights off in the classroom.”

Shi Tiexin raised his head in confusion, only then realizing the classroom was nearly empty. Looking down at his hands, he saw that, as if blessed by some divine aid, he had completed all the in-class exercises in four of his six math workbooks during this single period.

Shi Tiexin was astonished—was his efficiency really that high? He must have been truly absorbed. Of course, that strange mental state was an even greater help. Without that uncanny feeling of “being carried by a master,” he could never have completed four entire workbooks so smoothly in such a short time.

So, what was the result?

A thought summoned the hidden interface back into view. It initially appeared just as it had before, the progress bar still less than halfway. But before Shi Tiexin could wonder at this, the interface suddenly poured forth a torrent of stars from the bottom, as if all his “offline experience” were being tallied at once.

There were so many stars that Shi Tiexin was truly amazed!

Bang, bang, bang—a cascade of stars, like a meteor shower, slammed into the progress bar. The “Enlightenment” badge beside it burst into dazzling light; for every nine stars, another point of light would leap from the badge and crash into the progress bar as well.

Apparently, this was the direct manifestation of the “Outstanding: Increase cultivation speed by 10%” buff.

The progress bar blazed crimson, like a red-hot steel rod, flames roaring in the special effects. It crackled forward at speed, while the placards beside it kept popping up to shake.

At first, they read: “Keep it up!”, “Well done!”, “Don’t stop now!” Then they shifted to: “Unstoppable!”, “Awesome!”, “No way, that works too?” In the end, the placards grew larger, and the font became bold, oversized, and sparkled with effects—though still just as ugly.

“Rapid progress!”

“My goodness!”

“Killing spree!”

“Master, let me join you!”