Chapter 2: The Cheat I've Been Waiting for Has Finally Arrived

A lavish dinner began under a “harmonious” atmosphere.

Zheng Jian, utterly carefree, ate with gusto, oblivious to the stares from others.

Meanwhile, Linghu Chong nibbled at his food in small bites, glancing at Zheng Jian now and then, full of grievance and resentment.

Master Yue’s expression remained sour. Although his hall was now filled with disciples, few showed true promise. Aside from his second disciple, Linghu Chong, who possessed commendable talent, most were mediocre at best.

His eldest disciple, Zheng Jian, in whom he’d placed high hopes, had good enough innate potential for martial arts. Yet, this fellow was so incorrigibly lazy that, despite Master Yue chasing after him daily, progress remained sluggish, filling Master Yue’s heart with regret.

Ning Zhongze, dressed in a plain skirt, still retained her charm and grace even after bearing Yue Lingshan. Her temperament was gentle, and she regarded Zheng Jian as her own son. On countless occasions, her soft heart had led her to intercede on Zheng Jian’s behalf, much to Master Yue’s frustration.

“Husband, today marks a year since Jian’er entered our school. Aren’t you going to say a few words?” Ning Zhongze asked softly, noticing Master Yue’s poor mood.

Master Yue merely snorted coldly at her words.

Zheng Jian was not oblivious to his master’s displeasure. He promptly stood up, made his way to Master Yue’s side, picked up the wine jug, and poured a cup for him.

“Master, your foolish disciple owes everything to the care of you and Mistress. This cup, I offer to you in gratitude.”

Master Yue’s expression softened slightly as he replied in a cold voice, “Oh? Then tell me, how far have you progressed in your internal cultivation?”

Zheng Jian froze, quickly shooting a pleading look at the little girl Yue Lingshan.

Yue Lingshan, ever mischievous, immediately understood her senior brother’s silent call for help. She wrinkled her little nose, trotted over to Master Yue’s side, and tugged at his sleeve, cajoling, “Daddy, it’s all my fault! A few days ago, Senior Brother finally made progress in meditation, but I dragged him off to practice swordplay instead, so he fell behind in his training. If you must blame someone, blame me…”

Master Yue was about to scold her when he saw her large, clear eyes suddenly well up with tears, a look of impending sobs on her face. All his anger vanished in an instant, and he could only shoot a glare at Zheng Jian as he took the wine cup. “If your internal skills don’t reach entry level within ten days, I will not forgive you!”

Zheng Jian quickly nodded with a forced smile, resolving inwardly that he must make progress. If even his junior Linghu Chong had succeeded, how could he, the senior brother, remain stagnant and retain any authority?

…

After dinner, Zheng Jian returned to his room.

The room was small and simply furnished: a bed, a table, a chair, and a meditation cushion.

Though the Huashan Sect was grand and influential, as a renowned school in the martial world, they could hardly spend their days toiling in the fields. Their income came from tenant farmers at the foot of the mountain and the offerings of disciples from noble families. Even so, life was not particularly prosperous.

By now, Zheng Jian was used to life without the internet. He often reminisced about his glory days online, but those memories now seemed to drift further away like mist.

In ancient times, people rose at dawn and rested at dusk. It was now only the hour of the dog—barely after eight in the evening by modern reckoning—so Zheng Jian, naturally, wouldn’t go to bed so early.

Thinking of the vow he’d made at dinner, Zheng Jian shook his head, sat cross-legged on the cushion, and began to meditate.

The Huashan Sect, one of the Five Sword Schools, was famed for swordplay. However, Zheng Jian, being still young, primarily focused on internal cultivation.

After all, ever since the schism between the Qi and Sword branches of Huashan years ago, the Sword branch had declined, and Yue Buqun himself was of the Qi branch, placing greater emphasis on energy cultivation.

“Huashan Internal Arts” was the foundational internal energy manual of the sect. According to the Qi branch’s doctrine—energy as substance, sword as function, controlling the sword with energy—internal cultivation was the root of all. Thus, upon entering the sect, disciples first trained in “Huashan Internal Arts.”

Zheng Jian had failed to reach even the introductory level after a year. Partly, this was due to his laziness, unlike Linghu Chong’s diligence, but there were objective reasons as well.

Inside his young body dwelled the soul of an adult, one long battered by the deluge of information from a previous life. The greatest challenge for him was to keep his mind as calm as still water; clearing away distracting thoughts was truly the first hurdle on his martial path.

For a whole year, Zheng Jian strove to empty his mind and follow the internal arts manual. As Yue Lingshan had said earlier, it was only a few days ago that he finally achieved his first successful meditation.

Much like wearing women’s clothes—there is only a first time and then countless times—once he managed it once, the second and third times followed naturally.

Especially tonight, barely the time for a cup of tea had passed when Zheng Jian again felt a warm current surge from his dantian, flowing through his meridians as prescribed by the manual.

If he could complete one full circulation, he would have finally entered the foundational stage of the “Huashan Internal Arts.”

Yet, just as Zheng Jian was about to complete a full cycle, a sudden voice echoed in his mind—“Ding!”

The shock nearly made Zheng Jian jump; the abrupt sound shattered his concentration, and the sensation of warmth vanished without a trace.

Furious, Zheng Jian wanted to punch someone!

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” he barked, opening his eyes with hostility. “Damn it, just when my journey as a young hero in the martial world was about to take off…”

The room was quiet. Zheng Jian was about to rise when the voice returned in his mind: “System binding to host in progress, please wait…”

“???”

Zheng Jian instantly froze, as if struck by a pressure point. Slowly, his mouth fell open in disbelief, a hoarse sound escaping his throat: “System? Did I hear that right?”

“Ding! Congratulations, host, the Resentment System has been successfully bound and activated!” The system’s tone was oddly peculiar, but Zheng Jian, caught between ecstasy and shock, paid it no mind.

“Resentment System scanning host data.”

“Name: Zheng Jian.”

“Age: 10 years.”

“Gender: Male.”

“World: The Smiling, Proud Wanderer.”

…

“Hahahaha! I have a system! I finally have a system!” In this moment, all Zheng Jian’s frustration over being interrupted vanished, replaced by pure joy.

“Oh, what a hard lot I’ve had… I waited a year for you! You damned thing, why did you take so long to arrive! I nearly thought I’d be the ultimate bottom-feeder among all those who traverse the worlds…”

“Oh right, System, what functions do you have? How do I reach the pinnacle of life?” Zheng Jian finally calmed down from his euphoria and hurried to ask.

“How would I know? After all, I’m just a system,” came the reply.

“…” Zheng Jian suddenly felt utterly defeated, as though he’d downloaded an adult anime file only for it to turn out to be a children’s cartoon instead…

At this moment, Zheng Jian recalled the phrase: “Resentment System…”

“Resentment… What does that even mean?”

…

(End of Chapter)