Volume One: First Signs of Brilliance Chapter Forty-Six: Nothing Will Go Wrong, Right?

Wang Jue was almost beginning to doubt his own existence.

If one were to judge by the martial arts techniques available on the market, it would mean there were at least a hundred thousand individuals who had achieved mastery in basic techniques. A hundred thousand people? Was that considered a small number? Was this some kind of joke?

“You're overthinking it. In reality, the number is far lower than you imagine. And who told you that a person can only create a single martial technique?” Lan Yiyi rolled her eyes at him, unable to help herself. “Creating your first technique is the hardest. The second comes easier, and as you create more, it becomes more natural.”

“I know that, of course.” Wang Jue replied, a trace of sadness on his face, but he argued reasonably, “But don’t forget, creating a technique from scratch isn’t easy. It depends mainly on talent, inspiration, understanding, and experience with martial arts—there are certainly other factors we don’t even know about. No one can guarantee that after creating their first technique, they’ll be lucky enough to keep creating more. Sure, some might create one or two, but to keep innovating isn’t a simple feat.”

Wang Jue didn’t know exactly how difficult it was to create new martial arts, but he’d read plenty of novels in his previous life and understood a thing or two. For someone to create their own technique, they’d need to study a great number of existing ones, have deep intuition, thoroughly comprehend them, and then rely on inspiration. Inspiration, however, was notoriously unreliable—it might strike when least expected, or fail to appear when most needed, leading one to wonder if it existed at all.

“I’m impressed. For a student who hasn’t graduated middle school, you have quite the insight.” Lan Yiyi’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “But I don’t recall ever telling you that all the techniques on the market were created by humans, did I?”

“If not people, what, machines?” Wang Jue retorted.

Machines were soulless things—he couldn’t believe they could create martial techniques.

“Yes and no.” Lan Yiyi didn’t intend to keep him guessing. “They’re not exactly machines, but they exist within them. Scholars call them ‘artificial intelligence.’ Supposedly, they’re not alive, yet they can converse with humans easily, and their wisdom far outstrips most people’s.”

Artificial intelligence? Wang Jue had heard of it back on Earth, and seen news of robots that could communicate with people. But as far as he knew, those ‘intelligences’ merely followed pre-written code, and couldn’t really be called true AI.

But to think that Azure Star possessed genuine artificial intelligence? Wang Jue didn’t doubt Lan Yiyi’s words; she had no reason to deceive him. What truly shocked and intrigued him was that Azure Star’s AI surpassed anything on Earth—able not only to converse with humans but to create martial arts. Was this still ‘artificial intelligence’? It was more like ‘intelligent life.’

It took Wang Jue a great effort to suppress his astonishment and steady himself. “So most of the martial techniques on the market were created by AI?”

“That’s not something you have clearance to know right now,” Lan Yiyi replied, making it clear she wasn’t going to elaborate. Perhaps it involved some secret.

She changed the subject. “Let’s continue with your basic footwork. Let’s see if you can grasp the fundamentals today.”

“Alright.” Wang Jue, though a little disappointed, nodded obediently. Even though he’d already mastered the basic footwork, he didn’t mention it to Lan Yiyi.

After all, this was a secret he couldn’t share.

...

Time slipped by in the blink of an eye.

A day passed just like that.

On the surface, Wang Jue was learning basic footwork from Lan Yiyi, but secretly, he was taking advantage of her. Every time she dropped an experience bubble, he picked it up instantly. As expected, just like with the senior disciples at the martial academy, she dropped one every hour.

The two of them, alone in the training room, stayed from a little after nine in the morning until past nine at night. Eventually, Wang Jue grew tired of the monotony and showcased his footwork, already close to the beginner’s level, to free himself.

After twelve hours of ‘shearing sheep,’ Wang Jue’s martial arts and footwork both advanced from accomplished to perfect mastery. Upgrading basic swordsmanship and footwork had cost him 2,000 experience points, leaving him with nearly 5,000.

He’d thought that 5,000 experience points might be enough to push a martial technique or footwork past perfection. But when he saw that upgrading from perfect required 10,000 points, he realized he’d been too optimistic.

Lan Yiyi was both shocked and pleased that Wang Jue had mastered basic footwork in less than a day. “That’s enough for today. It’s late, so we’ll stop here. From now on, you’ll have to rely on your own hard work.”

“Thank you, Captain Lan, for your guidance.” Before leaving, Wang Jue gave her a polite farewell. After all, he’d benefitted greatly from her and believed in repaying kindness. “I’ll be off now, Captain Lan. Goodbye.”

When he saw Lan Yiyi nod in return, he left the room where he had spent the entire day.

With all the training and taking, Wang Jue almost felt as if he’d been ‘kept’ for a day.

Still, he’d gained much—his combat experience and technique had improved significantly, and he’d identified his own weaknesses. His previous fighting style had been little more than wild brawling—moves fit for street fights, easily seen through by someone like Lan Yiyi. In a duel, if your moves were read, the outcome was obvious.

Of course, that sort of vulnerability only applied against someone of Lan Yiyi’s caliber. Against people of his own level, Wang Jue still had a significant advantage. In their level, even reaching the beginner’s threshold in a technique was impressive, let alone mastery or perfection. It was extremely rare.

As for combat experience, they were all about the same. In a real fight, it was anyone’s guess who would see through whom.

Besides, Wang Jue’s true specialty was swordsmanship, not boxing.

...

Soon, Wang Jue returned home.

As he entered, he glanced toward the living room but saw no sign of his parents or his little sister. He checked the clock on the wall: exactly ten o’clock.

“So Mom and Dad, and little Yuer, aren’t home. They must have gone to the hospital.” Wang Jue muttered to himself and went straight to his room.

After a day of training (and being tormented) with Lan Yiyi at the Martial Association, both body and mind were exhausted. Still, he pulled himself together, sat cross-legged on his bed, and began his nightly cultivation.

Although he’d already broken through to the first tier of the Astral Soul Technique, this mysterious art was so profound and complex that even with the help of his golden finger, he found his progress as slow as a crawling turtle.

Two hours later, Wang Jue finished his cultivation and opened his eyes with a sigh. “This unknown-level Astral Soul Technique really is incredible. Before, without a technique, absorbing star energy could take hours and yield pitiful results. Now, a single cycle of this technique surpasses an entire week’s worth of former gains.”

After cultivating, Wang Jue felt something was missing, though he couldn’t pinpoint what. When he looked at his panel and saw that the experience for the first tier of Astral Soul Technique remained at zero, his feelings were mixed—gratified, yet bitter.

He was pleased because the technique’s potential was so high that he was ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent certain he would never have to worry about finding a better one. Yet he was frustrated to discover that no amount of cultivation would increase its experience. Unless he was mistaken, the technique—like his talents—could only be advanced using Source Points.

Though he was reluctant, Wang Jue had to admit that Source Points were far too important for him. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to spend them, but that he simply didn’t have enough to upgrade his talents or techniques. Especially after learning how rare they were, he was even less inclined to use his last two lightly.

This was also why, despite discovering that Source Points could raise his martial arts level, he had forced himself to rely on ordinary experience instead. Martial techniques could be upgraded with experience, which wasn’t hard for him to obtain, so there was no need to waste precious Source Points.

Though two Source Points couldn’t upgrade his talents or techniques yet, he decided to save them for when they were truly needed.

Feeling thirsty, Wang Jue left his room to get some water, only to find the entire house shrouded in darkness—no lights on in the living room, hallway, kitchen, or bathroom. He had to switch on the lights before checking the time on the wall.

It was already past midnight!

He’d known his parents weren’t home when he got back and hadn’t thought much of it, heading straight to his room. Now, seeing how late it was and that they still hadn’t returned, he frowned. “Strange, why haven’t Mom and Dad come back yet? And they took little Yuer with them too. Did something happen?”

Normally, if his parents weren’t home at this hour, he’d assume they were at the hospital. But shouldn’t little Yuer be home? Did they take her because she didn’t have school tomorrow?

Baffled, Wang Jue went to the living room table to see if his parents had left him a note but found nothing.

“Could something have happened at Uncle’s side?” A hint of worry crossed Wang Jue’s face.

He didn’t want to let his imagination run wild, but the truth was, his family had been going through a rough time lately.

In a flash, he recalled his aunt’s situation.

Could it be that those loan sharks had come to the hospital to collect their debts?