Lone Cultivator In Another World

A week went by. Eight new students started making a name for themselves. Anna, for one, quickly proved to be a prodigy in her chosen field. Her close friendship with Michael, the perfect student, didn't go unnoticed. She rejected many girls' invitations to get to know each other, to Michael's worry, because she preferred to spend time with him. Her personality was still too shy, so she latched herself on to this boy who proved to be a good friend.

Carina exhibited her prowess as a human calculator – the girl could instantly perform mathematical computations in her head, even with six-figure numbers. Unfortunately, in 2008, where phones could do the same, this talent was more of a quirk than something useful. Fifty years ago, perhaps she might've been a wonder.

The other six were normal kids, with a talent and d.e.s.i.r.e for learning. Only Michael stood out with his perfect record and ready answers to every question.

Over the week, Michael reached the 1-stage, 5-star level and was approaching the next one. He became noticeably stronger, two or three times than before, and felt an unexplainable ease of thought. His mind was clearer, his speech more concise. At the same time, even though new abilities appeared in the shop, he didn't have enough glory points for anything other than four Enhanced Senses for 15 points each.

In a moment of insecurity, he bought the two Hearing upgrades, now able to hear twice as good as any man. This advantage came into play when he consulted Anna on the music she was working on. The girl had an ear for rhythm and melody, but Michael could distinguish tiny imperfections in her work and point them out.

Overall, the friends' work on the game went smoothly. Dimitri finally figured out something important that Michael didn't come close to understanding. The only proof of the Greek boy's hard work was a funny-looking bruise on the forehead he earned when hit his head against the keyboard. Sofia familiarized herself with Michael's requests and came up with cute-looking birds after several tries:

"No-no, they have to be different shapes, easier to tell apart."

"Can you make them cuter? These are too realistic."

"Great! Now make them angry. Remember, their eggs have been stolen, they are taking revenge!"

"Holy cow! What is this!? How are they cute and nightmarish at the same time? When I said, "make them angry", I meant maybe draw frowned eyebrows or something. I won't fall asleep tonight, will I?"

He didn't.

Paired up with Michael's hundred well-done but untested levels, the game was in a state of blocks they would need to staple up together later. Even so, Michael was surprised at the excitement and productivity his classmates displayed.

Their second Monday at EIS, there was an addition to the students' daily routine – self-defense classes. School higher-ups believed that "a healthy mind lived in a healthy body". So, self-defense classes included physical exercises and martial arts practice. In fact, the name self-defense was only there so that the parents wouldn't make a fuss.

The instructor, a strongman in his thirties who also taught them physics, gathered the 7th grade on the track field. He instructed his old students to run l.a.p.s as a warm-up and presented the new students with the activities.

Everyone was required to have at least one class of martial arts a week. Other lessons could be dedicated to basic exercises like running or sports games. Of course, the rich kids could avoid studying martial arts for a hefty fee – EIS took their funding where it could.

Karate, aikido, judo, boxing and several others were available for anyone who wanted to work off the frustration. The instructor, Mr. Hwan, explained the strengths and weaknesses of the martial arts recommended for beginners and inquired about everyone's previous training. With each head shake, Donald grew more and more smug.

When it was his turn, he eagerly stepped forward, "I've been training in judo for five years."

Donald's body was almost as wide as it was tall. His clothes were tightly packed with muscle and fat, evidently from hard work rather than overeating.

Marco accepted the challenge, "I have some boxing experience. What about a spar?"

Mr. Hwan nodded at several mats placed right on the soft grass and gave out gloves and head guards according to the boys' preference. Marco ended up with standard boxing gloves while Donald opted for fingerless ones.

From their stances, Michael saw that both were experienced. In his past life, he preferred a soft style, so he got a permission to study Tai Chi one-on-one with an old master who lived on the school grounds. He studied the art for six years and achieved some degree of mastery. That was the benefit of a talented person – he learned things faster than most if he put his mind to it.

Learning Tai Chi was a fortuitous choice for Michael, because when he was almost twenty and LZD1 kicked in, slow movements unique to Tai Chi were still something he could practice.

Marco started out by throwing a few probing punches. Donald tried to evade them by stepping back, but his heavyset body didn't have enough speed. Fortunately for him, the punches were light. He tried to grab Marco's hands but was too slow again. Finally, after figuring Marco's reach and speed, Donald decisively went on the offensive himself.

He took a dive under Marco's arms and grabbed his body in a bearhug. Marco couldn't stop the heavier boy's assault and tripped, the air escaping his lungs when his opponent landed on top of him. Donald tried to hold down Marco's arms and find a comfortable spot to perform a hold.

Marco wasn't able to wriggle out and suffered a few hits to the head and neck area while Donald tried to stop him from moving. It only took Donald a moment to find a weak spot in Marco's defense after that. He wrapped himself around the boxer and appeared behind his back. There, he grabbed Marco in a chokehold and pressed hard.

"Stop! Enough!" shouted Mr. Hwan, but Donald ignored his warnings. He kept choking Marco out until the strongman instructor intervened. He slapped the brutal boy's back with such ferocity that Donald unclenched his elbows in an effort to ease the pain, moving the shoulders back.

Marco crawled away, coughing and cursing. He almost lost consciousness at his opponent's hands and wanted revenge. However, the payback was swift – Mr. Hwan was already looming over Donald who was lying on the mats.

"Such behavior is unacceptable!" he roared, "I will see to it that you are punished, young man! EIS does not permit such ruthless fights! We are here to study and progress, not to lose limbs and lives!"

But the boy only shrugged his shoulders, "That's how it is in the real world. The strong is right while the weak is wrong. My father taught me to never back down form a challenge. But he also taught me to make sure the challenger never dares to repeat his mistake," he grinned.

That was indeed Donald's father's philosophy. He was an oil magnate from America who lucked out by marrying a daughter of a high-profile Chinese government official. To appease his father-in-law, he even took the surname Tan. Using his ties with China, he earned millions on trade and became an owner of a large corporation. Meanwhile, his wife was stuck in a loveless marriage, her usefulness to him expired after the marriage had been registered.

He raised his Chinese American son Donald in the same spirit, instilling in him the values of victory, success by any means and conquest by strength.

Even if Michael didn't like Marco, Donald's behavior plain disgusted him. Without thinking twice, he spoke up, "Why don't we have a spar then?"

"You?" the boy stood up, shaking off, "Didn't you say you had no experience?"

"None in the martial arts Mr. Hwan listed, but I learned Tai Chi from a real master."

"Michael!" interrupted the instructor, "You don't seriously think I'll allow you two to come to blows? Donald should be punished for his unethical approach to a simple spar."

"I understand, sir. But if he is punished after winning, he will never take it to heart. Why don't you punish him after he loses?"

All eyes were on Michael at the moment. After seeing Donald fighting, everyone was in awe of his prowess. Yet this pale, physically unimpressive boy issued a challenge to the fierce judoist, making promises he couldn't keep.

Michael felt his sleeve being pulled and whispered, "Don't worry. Have you ever seen me lose?" His arm freed, he stole a glance at Anna who presented a stony expression, obviously trying to suppress her worry.

Michael felt a warmth in his heart, remembering the pleasantness of someone caring about him. However, it wasn't Anna in his mind, but Alice.

"So, what are you waiting for? Let's do this, wimp!"

Mr. Hwan sighed, "Do you need gloves, Michael?"

Seeing as he was already dressed in comfortable gym clothes, young cultivator refused the instructor's help. Facing Donald, he was awash with excitement of finally testing out his new strength.