Money Hit the Account, Advanced to Martial Master!

When the money hit his account, Li Zhengyang was brushing his teeth at home.

His phone buzzed. A text notification informed him that 200,000.00 yuan had been deposited into his bank account.

He stuck the toothbrush into the cup, rinsed his mouth, put on his shoes, and headed straight for school.

He had read the declaration long ago. The format was simple: I voluntarily relinquish this year's designated recommendation slot for impoverished students to advance from junior college to undergraduate studies. Signature and fingerprint.

Director Wang had wanted to exchange a few pleasantries, but Li Zhengyang spoke the moment he finished signing.

"Director Wang, I'd like to take some leave."

"Take leave?"

"I want to take this week off. I'm not feeling well."

Director Wang had not even put down his pen when he glanced at him.

The kid had just gotten his hands on 200,000 yuan and was immediately asking for leave. It was a little excessive. But on second thought, the recommendation slot was already secured, so there was no need to fuss over such trivial matters.

"Don't miss the practical combat test this weekend."

"I won't."

"Fine. I'll approve it."

After leaving the administrative building, Li Zhengyang headed straight for the school's back gate.

He did not live in the dorms. He was not used to the school's four-person rooms, so he had moved out during the second semester of his freshman year. The government provided subsidized housing for impoverished households—rent was free and utilities were half-price—but the place was rundown.

After walking for fifteen minutes, he arrived downstairs.

The old residential complex had no elevator. He lived on the sixth floor, and he shot upward two steps at a time.

With the physical fitness of a Rank-Two Martial Warrior, climbing that many stairs was child's play. He did not even need to catch his breath.

He entered, locked the door behind him, and drew the curtains.

Li Zhengyang sat on the edge of the bed, took out his phone, and opened the banking app.

Withdrawing cash was definitely out of the question. Carrying around 200,000 yuan in cash would draw too much attention.

The System had a flexible way of consuming money. He had tested it before. As long as the funds were under his name and he could prove ownership, selecting recharge would deduct the balance directly.

He did not need paper currency, and the money did not need to pass through his hands. The savings in his bank card would do.

Facing the System Interface, he selected recharge and entered the amount: 100,000.

Before pressing down, he hesitated for half a second.

It was not that he could not bear to spend it. He was wondering whether he should leave some money for living expenses.

Forget it.

Recharge it all. Go all in!

The biggest taboo for poor people was leaving themselves a way out.

If they left themselves a way out, they would not be ruthless enough. If they were not ruthless enough, they would never earn the next windfall.

He confirmed the recharge.

[Recharge successful!]

[Recharge amount: 200000]

[Blood-Qi Value gained: +2000]

[Current Blood-Qi Value: 2248]

[Blood-Qi Value has exceeded the threshold]

[Realm breakthrough: Rank-Two Martial Warrior → Rank-Two Martial Master!]

For the first second, he felt nothing.

In the second second, his spine began to burn.

The pain spread from his spine along his nerves to all four limbs. Every muscle was being torn apart and rebuilt, while his bones cracked and popped.

Li Zhengyang sprang off the bed, his back slamming into the wall and knocking off a chunk of plaster.

He gritted his teeth and did not make a sound.

A retired old man lived next door. The man was hard of hearing but nosy. If Li Zhengyang screamed, the whole building would know by tomorrow that the poor student on the sixth floor had gone crazy in his room.

The pain lasted about two minutes.

After two minutes, the pain faded, replaced by an extremely strange sensation. His body was expelling things.

Fluid seeped from his pores.

Black, thick, and rancid.

Li Zhengyang looked down. The inside of his jacket was already soaked through. A layer of sticky black grease clung to his skin, and the stench was enough to make his head spin.

"Fuck."

Suppressing his nausea, he tore off his jacket, then his T-shirt. The stuff was oozing out all over his body.

The Martial Master realm.

Put simply, it was a complete rebirth.

During the Martial Disciple and Martial Warrior stages, one cultivated Blood Qi, strength, and physical fitness.

But Martial Master was a threshold of qualitative change. The body had to expel impurities accumulated over the years, the marrow had to be washed by Blood Qi, and the five internal organs had to be recalibrated.

The textbooks called it "Marrow Cleansing." Four elegant words.

The actual experience was every pore on his body discharging filth.

Li Zhengyang stood bare-chested in the middle of the room as impurities ran down his legs. A small puddle had already formed on the floor.

He could not wait any longer. If he did not wash up now, the entire room would be ruined.

He rushed into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let cold water pour over him from head to toe.

The black substance washed away and flowed down the drain, but a slick film still coated his skin. He had to scrub hard.

Li Zhengyang scrubbed for twenty minutes.

He used more than half a bottle of body wash and an entire bar of soap.

After drying himself, he stood before the mirror and was stunned for a moment.

The person in the mirror was still him. His features had not changed, but his entire state was completely different.

His skin was a shade lighter than before—not the pale white of a girl, but a healthy, even brightness.

His muscle definition was more pronounced, but without the exaggerated bulk of a bodybuilder. It was balanced and harmonious, every muscle fitting perfectly over his frame.

Combined with his already handsome face, he looked even better than before.

He clenched his fist.

The sense of power was on a completely different level from when he had been a Rank-Two Martial Warrior.

If a Martial Warrior's fist could shatter blue bricks, then what could a Martial Master's fist shatter? For the moment, he did not want to test it in his rented room. He was afraid he might punch through a load-bearing wall.

[Current Blood-Qi Value: 2248]

[Current realm: Rank-Two Martial Master]

A Rank-Two Martial Master.

In the entire Martial Arts Junior College, most of the faculty were only at the Martial Master level.

There were no Martial Masters among the students. Not a single one.

That Fourth-Rank Martial Warrior genius at the school was now an entire major realm below him.

The difference between a Martial Warrior and a Martial Master was not merely a difference of several hundred points of Blood Qi.

It was a qualitative change.

The limit of a Martial Warrior was the peak of the human body. No matter how strong one became, one was still fundamentally human.

Martial Masters began to touch a new domain.

In other words, Martial Masters could condense the Blood Qi within their bodies into a layer of Body-Protecting Astral Energy, attach their strength to weapons, and do many things Martial Warriors could not.

This world called it "Entering Rank."

The stages before Martial Master were called Mortal Rank. Only upon reaching Martial Master did one truly step across the threshold of martial cultivation.

To put it bluntly, those Martial Disciples and Martial Warriors were, in the eyes of true martial cultivators, merely ordinary people with somewhat better physical fitness.

There was still a long road ahead.

Martial Disciple, Martial Warrior, Martial Master, Great Martial Master, Martial Spirit, Martial Sect, Martial King, Martial Emperor, Martial Venerable, Martial Saint, Martial Sovereign.

Every major realm was divided into nine ranks, and the gap between ranks became increasingly absurd as one climbed higher.

Li Zhengyang had no idea what level a Martial Sovereign was. He only occasionally saw related reports in the news. One sentence summed it up: they were humanoid nuclear weapons.

It was too early to think about such things.

The most practical problem at hand was this.

He was hungry.

Extremely hungry.

The kind of hunger that rose from the pit of his stomach.

Marrow Cleansing had consumed an enormous amount of energy, and his body was frantically sending signals to eat.

Li Zhengyang checked his phone. It was 8:20 in the morning.

The breakfast shop downstairs should not have closed yet.

He put on a clean T-shirt and went downstairs.

Fifty meters to the right of the residential complex entrance was Old Zhou Breakfast Shop, an old establishment that had been open for more than a decade. Its sign advertised soup dumplings, soy milk, fried dough sticks, wontons, pan-fried dumplings, and porridge.

Old Zhou was in his fifties, his apron covered in grease stains as he worked beside the steamers.

The shop was small, with five tables. At the moment, two of them were occupied.

Li Zhengyang entered, sat down, and glanced at the steamers.

Steam billowed from them, and at least seven or eight layers were stacked up.

He subconsciously rubbed his stomach.

Given his current appetite, even if he ate freely, he would not be full without spending at least 100 yuan. But 100 yuan was one point of Blood Qi.

Li Zhengyang came up with an idea for filling his stomach.

"Boss."

Old Zhou turned around. "What would you like, young man?"

"I want to discuss something with you."

Old Zhou wiped his hands and walked over. "Go ahead."

"All-you-can-eat. One fixed price. I eat whatever I want, and you name the price."

Old Zhou gave him a once-over.

A student. Judging by his appetite, at most two baskets of soup dumplings and a bowl of porridge. It would only cost him a dozen yuan or so.

But business was business. He could not take a loss.

"Thirty."

When Old Zhou named that price, he had already done the math in his head. One basket of soup dumplings cost less than three yuan to make. Even if this kid could eat three baskets, plus a bowl of soy milk and a fried dough stick, the cost would at most be around ten yuan. Thirty yuan meant a net profit of twenty. A bloody steal.

"Deal." Li Zhengyang took out his phone and scanned the code. "Boss, don't go back on your word."

"I've been in business for over a decade. A man's word is water once spilled." Old Zhou smiled and held out the payment code.

The thirty yuan arrived.

Li Zhengyang put away his phone. "Bring me four baskets of soup dumplings first."

"Four baskets?"

"Four baskets."

Old Zhou smiled, thinking that young people loved to talk big. The kid would collapse after two baskets.

Still, four baskets only cost him eight yuan. It did not matter.

When the first basket arrived, Li Zhengyang did not dip them in vinegar. He shoved them into his mouth one after another.

There were eight in a basket. They were gone in forty seconds.

The second basket arrived. Thirty seconds.

The third basket, then the fourth. Less than three minutes in total.

Old Zhou watched from the side as his smile slowly froze.

"Bring four more baskets."

"...Huh?"

"Four baskets. Do you have meat ones?"

"Yes."

When Old Zhou turned to fetch them from the steamers, his steps were noticeably hesitant.

The fifth through eighth baskets were finished in less than five minutes.

An uncle at the next table held his chopsticks suspended in midair, forgetting to bring the food to his mouth.

"Bring four more baskets. Then a bowl of wontons, two fried dough sticks, and a bowl of plain porridge."

Old Zhou's smile had vanished completely.

He stood beside the steamers, one hand resting on a bamboo basket as he stared at the empty baskets piling up on Li Zhengyang's table and began calculating the losses.

Eight baskets already.

Each basket cost three yuan and sold for six. Eight baskets sold for forty-eight yuan. He had already gone over.

"Young man, you..."

"Boss, a man's word is water once spilled." Li Zhengyang chewed the last dumpling in his mouth.

Old Zhou's expression darkened.

After finishing twelve baskets, Li Zhengyang also devoured two bowls of wontons, four fried dough sticks, and two bowls of porridge.

Finally, he burped contentedly and leaned back in his chair.

That felt good.

A Martial Master's digestive speed far surpassed that of ordinary people. Within half an hour, all that food could be converted into energy his body needed without causing indigestion.

"Boss, I'll be back tomorrow."

Old Zhou said nothing.

"Still thirty?"

Old Zhou fell silent for three seconds. "Don't come here again."

"Boss, you're thinking too small." Li Zhengyang stood up and patted his stomach. "Business is all about the long game. Once I make it big, I'll look after this little shop."

As he walked out of the breakfast shop, he heard Old Zhou complaining bitterly to the owner of the neighboring stall behind him.

"Damn it, I lost more than sixty yuan..."

Li Zhengyang whistled, in a pretty good mood.

Today's breakfast was especially delicious.

Strictly speaking, he had paid thirty, but he had eaten more than ninety yuan's worth of food—a net profit of sixty.

A winner in life.

On the way back, he began planning his next move.

The hundred thousand had been spent, and his card balance was back to zero. Aside from the hundred-odd yuan of pocket money on him, he was practically broke.

He still had thirty-four thousand yuan in outstanding debt.

Counting the money he had saved by mooching this breakfast today—

Fine, it had not really saved him much.

He needed to find a solution to the money problem as soon as possible.

He needed more money, and he needed it fast.

He could still take out loans, but the limits were low, and chances like selling slots would not come every day.

He needed to find a faster way to make money.