Chapter 70: Exceptional Training

In the spacious room, Yang Fan sat to one side, his head bowed, eyes lowered, silent as stone.

Wang Yifa occupied the main seat, gazing at Yang Fan who remained motionless, and felt a sense of helplessness. There was nothing he could do; the years of planning, gathering the nation's geniuses, the special nurturing program—these were matters long since decided, tasks he had personally overseen throughout the years.

Why had the Cultivation Academy been founded? On one hand, it was to cultivate reserves of talent, a future army. On the other, it served to uncover prodigies.

When Yang Fan first had his outburst, Wang Yifa reviewed the boy’s file. For his first eighteen years, he had lived an unremarkable life, merely an orphan from a remote small city. Yet his mediocrity was upended after his aptitude test. Entering the Shanghai Cultivation Academy, he had become a third-rank warrior in just a few months.

It was true, with enough pills, anyone—even a pig—could be raised to the peak of the second rank. But such cultivators could barely control their own strength.

Though Yang Fan’s file was brief, it had its highlights. Twice he had encountered dark world warriors who slipped through rifts onto Earth, and twice he fought above his rank and prevailed. What’s more, during his months at the academy, his mission completion rate was exceptionally high. Though the file didn’t detail the nature of his assignments, dozens successfully completed was no small feat.

And just now, when the boy drew his blade and his aura surged—even though Wang Yifa himself didn’t practice cultivation, he had spent years surrounded by cultivators. The one who had just pinned Yang Fan against the wall was an eighth-rank master. Years of exposure had sharpened Wang’s eye, even if his hands lacked the skill.

The way Yang Fan drew his blade, the swelling of his aura, the coordination of energy and blood—all of it revealed that this boy was no novice.

...

“Kid, wipe that miserable look off your face. Let me give you the truth,” Wang Yifa’s gaze focused on Yang Fan as he spoke.

Yang Fan was utterly despondent. Truthfully, staying with Skynet was no great hardship—after all, even as a student at the Cultivation Academy, he was already considered part of Skynet. The main issue was that he’d been tricked into coming here—by his own teacher, no less. It was infuriating.

Thinking of the things left in his dormitory only made his heart ache. His Qi Sea Fruit, over a hundred thousand in cash, several second-tier Bone Tempering Pills, and plenty of unused academy credits. Why couldn’t he just leave?

He listened to Wang Yifa, glancing up for a moment before lowering his head again, refusing to speak.

The truth? What truth? Was he about to explain how Yang Fan was to live out his days here? Sorry, he simply wasn’t in the mood to listen.

Wang Yifa, noting Yang Fan’s lack of response, was neither angry nor annoyed. He continued, “Yang Fan, don’t overthink things. You misunderstand—joining Skynet doesn’t mean you can never leave. There’s no such rule. Skynet is an organization, a government agency. No one’s saying you can only enter and never exit. You’re overcomplicating things.”

At these words, Yang Fan’s eyes lit up, only to dim the next instant.

Of course, he could leave—so they had said, as long as he brought back the heads of ten fifth-rank dark worlders. He was only third-rank—ten heads of fifth-rank warriors? Might as well offer his own and be done with it.

Wang Yifa felt a twinge of embarrassment. This brat gave him no leeway at all—he’d said Yang Fan could leave, and the boy’s head had barely lifted before it drooped again. What was that supposed to mean?

“Ahem…” Wang Yifa coughed to ease the awkwardness and pressed on, “Yang Fan, your teacher sent you here for your own good—”

Before he could finish, Yang Fan loudly interrupted, “For my good? For my good? Then why not tell me? Why trick me? Why not say so earlier? Is there no respect for basic rights? You tricked me at the door—couldn’t you have explained there? What’s the meaning of this!”

Yang Fan’s tirade was cut short as his mouth snapped shut.

Wang Yifa could only sigh inwardly. His old friend was being a bit hot-tempered these days. Let the kid vent a little—after all, Old Li really had been underhanded. Even Wang Yifa himself wanted to curse him out.

Yang Fan’s face flushed red with anger. “Damn it, just wait! First you pinned me to the wall, now you won’t let me speak—just wait, you’ll see…” The more he thought about it, the worse he felt, his body trembling with suppressed frustration.

Suddenly, the oppressive aura that filled the hall receded, and Yang Fan relaxed, though he had no inclination to speak anymore.

Wang Yifa scratched his jet-black hair and continued, “The reason you’re here is to participate in our special program.”

He paused, large eyes blinking at Yang Fan. Typically, this was the point where the listener would ask, “What program?” But after waiting a while, Yang Fan remained seated, head down, showing no intention of asking.

Wang Yifa felt awkward, touched his nose, and continued, “This program was established five years ago. The details are too many to explain one by one, so I’ll just give you an overview.”

“Wait…” Yang Fan suddenly spoke.

“What is it?” Wang Yifa felt stifled—when he should have asked, he hadn’t; now, just as Wang Yifa got into his explanation, he interrupted.

Do you believe I could just kill you?

“Do I have to join after I hear about this program?” Yang Fan asked uneasily. In movies and TV, it was always like this—hear the secret, and you either agree or you die. There was never another way.

“Ahem, kid, I really don’t want to upset you, but to be honest, even if you don’t hear about the program, you still have to participate. It makes no difference whether you hear it now or later,” Wang Yifa replied, a bit embarrassed.

Yang Fan was unsettled—what was the meaning of this?

“Come on, General, look, I really don’t think I’m that special. There are so many people in this country—why must it be me? I’m not prepared for this.”

Yang Fan did his best to keep his voice down—he really didn’t dare shout anymore, worried another powerhouse would silence him.

“Enough nonsense. Why you were chosen will be explained, but for now, just accept it. It’s not a bad thing. At least listen—you might even be interested. Who knows, maybe you’ll want to stay after all,” Wang Yifa said, rubbing his forehead, clearly getting a headache.

Just as Yang Fan was about to speak, an overwhelming pressure pressed down upon him, forcing him into silence. Yes, that feeling, that aura, that oppressive presence—just like before, when he’d been bullied.

Seeing Yang Fan fall silent, Wang Yifa exhaled and continued, “This is how it is: Over the years, Skynet has established cultivation academies to select talent, but the very finest prodigies are given individual attention.

“Think of the academies as mass canteens—there are many strong students, but those strong ones don’t stay in the academy; they come and go, venturing into ruins from time to time. The main purpose of the academies is to train large numbers of elite soldiers. As for true generals, you can’t cook them in a mass pot. Take you, for example—you’ve awakened a unique ability and can cultivate as well. Such aptitude is rare even after all these years of spiritual resurgence. If you were to stay in the academy, it would be a waste of your talent.”

Just as Wang Yifa was about to pause for a sip of water, Yang Fan’s voice piped up, “I don’t think my talent is all that special. We have a teacher in our academy, Ouyang Yunlei. She’s a cultivator and has awakened a unique ability too. If there are two like that in one academy, then across the seventy-two academies nationwide, there must be over a hundred of us. I’m nothing special—just let me go…”

Yang Fan spoke cautiously.

Wang Yifa spat out his water in surprise. “Pff—”

“You brat, is that how you calculate it? Did your math teacher die young? Is this common probability? Ouyang Yunlei was once with Skynet too, but something happened later and she left. Do you really think finding people like you—awakened and able to cultivate—is so easy? Over a hundred, you say? Are you trying to provoke me?”

Wang Yifa had always considered himself a scholar. So what if he couldn’t cultivate? He’d made a name for himself in a world of warriors with nothing but his integrity and education. Warriors were rough—they needed refinement. All his life, few had dared argue with him.

But today, he truly felt like a scholar encountering a soldier—reason was useless. This little rascal didn’t play by the rules. In such a short time, he’d suffered several setbacks and still dared to talk nonsense. Old Li said the boy lacked composure—nonsense! He had composure to spare.

Who was Wang Yifa? One of Skynet’s founders—how many across the nation, perhaps the world, would dare speak to him like this?

Well, today he’d met his match.

Seeing the old man flare up, Yang Fan quickly shut his mouth. He really hadn’t meant it—he was just anxious and blurted it out. Why take it so seriously?

After Yang Fan quieted down, Wang Yifa calmed his breath and continued, “Good ingredients require a master chef to bring out their best flavor. You’re not suited to the mass training of the academy, so Skynet has a special program for talents like you. How exactly you’ll be trained, you’ll learn in time—I won’t say more now. Just remember, from this day forward, you belong to Skynet. For the foreseeable future, you cannot leave until you meet the qualifications.”

With that, Wang Yifa stood and left, leaving Yang Fan sitting there, utterly bewildered.

That was it? He just left? No more explanation?

So what exactly was he supposed to do now? What were they going to do with him?

Draw a line, at least! This was no way to end things—so abrupt, so incomplete!