Chapter 44: Rapid Progress in Heart Cultivation (Part Two)

These teleprompters took turns appearing on stage, one after another, never pausing for even a moment, as though a horde of silly netizens were spamming bullet comments and jokes. Meanwhile, those stars still burst forth from the bottom of his field of vision like an inverted waterfall, streaming endlessly upward and colliding noisily with the progress bar. The dazzling spectacle was so overwhelming that Shi Tiexin could scarcely keep track of how many stars there actually were.

He watched as the progress bar stretched longer and longer, never faltering, finally crashing into the far right, where the word “Good” glowed. In an instant, the entire progress bar flared with radiant light, suddenly shining brilliantly. Within the brilliance, the “Good” at the right side abruptly swelled, occupying the vast majority of his vision.

“Basic Mathematics, First Level: Cultivation Progress Upgraded to Good.”

A line of text announced the rise in Shi Tiexin’s cultivation of the mind arts. Then, the massive “Good” fell toward the left of his field of vision, as if something heavy had smashed down. With a resounding thud, the word “Good” landed forcefully on the left, replacing the previous “Pass” position.

Immediately, a new virtual progress bar appeared. At the right end of the bar, the word “Excellent” shimmered.

“Excellent” beckoned from afar, while the progress bar continued to extend under the impact of more stars. This time, however, fewer stars remained. At last, nine stars slammed into the bar, raising it by nine marks before halting in place.

“Advancing by leaps and bounds!!”

A teleprompter sprang out with a dramatic bang, the words scrawled in a furious, roaring script, shaking violently for a while before finally sinking away, reluctant as a setting sun.

On the progress bar, raging crimson flames now burned, crackling as bolts of lightning entwined themselves around it. It was as if the progress bar had suddenly transformed into a Super Saiyan’s gauge.

This… this… have I just cultivated Basic Mathematics, First Level, all the way to Good?

That quickly?

And it’s only been a single class!

“Brother Shi, Brother Shi?” Zhou Nan’s voice snapped Shi Tiexin back to his senses. He shook off his daze and looked around — only three people remained in the entire classroom. Besides himself and Zhou Nan, there was also Zhao Qingmiao, who was waiting by the light switch at the front, looking apologetically in their direction.

Shi Tiexin glanced at Zhao Qingmiao, then at the book in his hand. He looked again at Zhou Nan, then at the progress bar still aglow in his vision.

The Super Saiyan progress bar was still wild and rampant, as though it could send out an energy blast to shatter all obstacles at any moment.

At a time like this…

At a time like this—

How could I possibly stop now?

I must cultivate. I must continue to cultivate. I must study. I must never stop studying. I must burn the midnight oil. I must fight through the night. I—I—I’m going to study till I explode today!

A daunting, overwhelming aura suddenly surged from Shi Tiexin, fiercer than the urgency he’d felt when rushing to the restroom, unstoppable as a god of old awakening from slumber.

Shi Tiexin’s gaze swept over Zhou Nan, who shuddered in fright. Looking into Shi Tiexin’s eyes, Zhou Nan felt as if he saw a boulder erupting in flames, sparks bursting from steel, and sensed an unyielding, wild resolve.

Shi Tiexin spoke: “Where is there a classroom with the lights on?”

“Huh?” Zhou Nan was caught off guard.

“A classroom with the lights on — where is it?” Shi Tiexin raised his voice, barely able to contain his impatience. Strike while the iron is hot; if he didn’t go all out while the progress bar was transformed, would he wait for it to cool down? Building up combos was no easy feat!

This time Zhou Nan understood, but it didn’t help; he was just as stunned.

Boss, you’re asking me that? I’m just a slacker who resells contraband, how would I know where to find a classroom with the lights still on?

Just then, Zhao Qingmiao, waiting by the door, timidly approached. Fear and admiration mingled in his eyes as he ventured, “B-big brother, I—I know…”

Hmm? Shi Tiexin looked at Zhao Qingmiao, his imposing presence making the other boy take a step back.

Shi Tiexin stepped forward and raised his hand. To Zhao Qingmiao, it was as if a pillar of heaven was about to come crashing down on him. He squeezed his eyes shut, certain that this was it: his nosiness had earned him a beating.

But with a smack, he just felt a weight descend on his shoulder. Shi Tiexin’s large hand had landed not on his head, but on his shoulder instead.

“Good!”

Zhao Qingmiao opened his eyes to see Shi Tiexin’s approving gaze. His words were as concise as ever: “Lead the way.”

A boundless strength filled Zhao Qingmiao from head to toe. Since he’d become the monitor of the “garbage class,” this was the first time anyone had said “good” to him. And it wasn’t perfunctory, nor feigned, nor casually tossed off. As Zhao Qingmiao gazed into Shi Tiexin’s forthright eyes, he seemed to glimpse a soul of unwavering integrity and honesty.

This man was sparing with words and straightforward; if he said “good,” then it truly was good!

He—he’d actually been praised by this big brother?

“R-right away!” Zhao Qingmiao snapped to attention and, excited, led the way. “This way, please. The school has dedicated study rooms open until midnight!”

Shi Tiexin strode after Zhao Qingmiao, and without looking back, pointed first at Zhou Nan, then at the exercise books on the desk, saying nothing. Zhou Nan immediately understood and, with a miserable face, dashed to the table, hastily gathered everything up, and slung the bundle over his shoulder like a laborer at an old dock, hurrying after Shi Tiexin.

Wasting not a second, Shi Tiexin followed Zhao Qingmiao out of the “garbage class” building, heading straight for the front teaching area.

On the way, Zhao Qingmiao explained that Phoenix Song No. 1 High School did, in fact, have study rooms open until midnight, managed directly by campus security. Although Shi Tiexin had been dealing mostly with slackers lately, giving the impression that the school was full of them, the overall environment was still dominated by diligent students.

Many hardworking students would head straight to the study rooms after evening self-study. Because seats were limited and space was tight, arriving late often meant not getting a spot. But Shi Tiexin had been so focused during his recent studies that, glancing at his watch, he saw it was already 9:40 p.m.—by now, the study rooms were likely full.

Sure enough, Zhao Qingmiao led Shi Tiexin around several study rooms, only to find every seat taken. There were empty chairs, but they were piled high with books or heaped with snacks, making them impossible to use.