Chapter 51: The Benefits of Playing the Wastrel

After lunch, the sound of a train whistle came from outside the window, and the once serene environment began to grow noisy. Leaning back on the sofa to digest his meal, Feng Xue picked up the scroll and tucked it into his robe, then turned to Liu Yunxi, who had just finished washing the dishes:

“You look like a ring!”

“So next time you’re going to change form, can you at least warn me first?” Liu Yunxi, now resting in Feng Xue’s palm, complained with a hint of irritation. Feng Xue, unconcerned, replied:

“Whether I’m warned or not, you still change. If I have to bend down to pick you up every time, it’s easier just to let you change outright.”

“...” Liu Yunxi took a deep breath and fell silent. Feng Xue adjusted the position of the scroll in his arms and prepared to leave.

According to the Spirit Binding Spell, after forming a spirit pact, the spirit should be transferred to a bracelet, pendant, or other portable item for easy summoning—but Mo Ying’s attachment was too strong. Even getting her to run errands required a mix of rewards and threats; making her leave the scroll would take more time and conditioning.

Fortunately, the scroll was only as long as a forearm, so carrying it was no more cumbersome than carrying a dagger. Feng Xue didn’t press the issue.

After casually asking a passerby for directions, Feng Xue arrived at the largest martial arts school in Lucheng County.

Though called the largest, it was no bigger than a sihe academy. Since it was already afternoon, the courtyard was nearly empty, save for a few neatly dressed youths standing at the entrance. Seeing Feng Xue’s refined attire and dignified bearing, they immediately recognized him as some wealthy young master and greeted him with practiced smiles.

“Young Master, welcome. Are you here to learn martial arts, or to hire someone?”

Feng Xue was momentarily surprised, but quickly understood: whether studying literature or martial arts, the goal was ultimately to acquire a skill for livelihood. In that light, a martial school accepting employment contracts was no different from a university holding job fairs.

But that had nothing to do with him. Since this was a business open to the public, he didn’t hide his intent:

“I’m interested in martial arts, so I’d like to buy a few basic manuals to study at home.”

Hearing Feng Xue’s casual tone, the receptionist instantly realized he was wealthy but unfamiliar with the trade. He gave a subtle signal to his companion behind Feng Xue’s back, then led him into the courtyard:

“Young Master, you’ve come to the right place. Our Hua Family Martial Arts School is the most renowned in Lucheng County. Our headmaster is a famed figure in the southeastern martial world, just half a step away from entering the top tier. His Flowing Cloud Palm is famous far and wide! Enrollment is only fifty cash per month—but that only covers basics: strengthening the body, nourishing essence, and stabilizing qi. To learn Flowing Cloud Palm, you’d need to…”

“I said I only want to buy a few basic manuals. If I’m interested later, we can talk about other things.” Feng Xue cut him off. With his over-the-shoulder view, he’d already noticed the receptionist slipping around to notify the headmaster.

But he didn’t care. He continued:

“Just the basics—nourishing essence and stabilizing qi. I recall there’s also ‘nourishing qi and stabilizing spirit.’ Do you sell that too?”

“Young Master, you don’t understand!”

As the receptionist was baffled by the question, a voice suddenly rang out from within the courtyard. Though distant, the words were crystal clear, neither shrill nor intrusive—as if precisely calibrated to reach Feng Xue’s ears at the perfect volume.

Just by this alone, Feng Xue knew that even if the claim of “half a step to top tier” was exaggerated, the man’s strength was no small matter.

At least he wasn’t some fraud like Qiu Qianzhang, relying on tricks to deceive the world.

The voice came fast, and so did the man. His strides appeared small and unhurried, yet in the blink of an eye, a man in his early thirties—with seven or eight decades of Yu Shou glowing atop his head—stood before him. After the receptionist bowed respectfully, the headmaster continued:

“Martial training isn’t like taking the imperial exams, where memorizing texts is enough. A slight mistake can cause injury. Every martial school takes new students through one or two months of physical conditioning, bone and tendon forging, and basic instruction before formal teaching begins. You may be healthy, but you haven’t yet…”

“That’s why I’m here to buy the basics. I don’t want your famous Flowing Cloud Palm—just the fundamentals: what nourishing essence and stabilizing qi means, how to nourish qi and stabilize spirit, and how to condition the body. Whether I actually train is something I’ll decide after studying.”

Feng Xue interrupted again, treating the headmaster no differently than the receptionist. But the headmaster didn’t take offense—he sensed something else:

The way this man spoke suggested only mild interest in martial arts, not deep passion. His desire to make money instantly faded. After all, “wealthy wastrels” like this were the worst kind of customer a martial school could have.

Just look at his hands—smooth and untouched by hardship; he was a spoilt young master raised in luxury. If he enrolled, he’d likely never endure hardship. If you went easy on him, he’d learn nothing and cause trouble. If you pushed him hard, his defiant attitude meant he’d resist. Even if you deceived him, his family wasn’t foolish—they’d likely cause trouble, leaving you out of pocket and drowning in problems.

For a man like this, the only solution was exactly what he’d suggested: sell him basic manuals, let him study on his own, and wait until he understood the hardship—then his interest would vanish.

Realizing this, the headmaster made his decision and said:

“Then as you wish, Young Master.” He turned to the receptionist:

“Go get the beginner manuals—every single one!”

“Yes!” The receptionist straightened his posture and sprinted toward the back courtyard. The headmaster turned back to Feng Xue and explained:

“Though each school specializes differently, beginner manuals are mostly the same. You may browse them freely, but if you plan to train, you’ll need someone knowledgeable to guide you. Even if you practice incorrectly, the basics aren’t life-threatening—but you’ll still suffer.”

“Naturally.” Feng Xue still looked indifferent. He casually pulled out a leather wallet that clearly cost a fortune:

“How much?”

Though Feng Xue spoke generously, the headmaster knew how to make money—he didn’t inflate the price, but treated him like any ordinary student:

“For the basics, we only charge for copying—fifteen cash per manual. We have four: ‘Moving Stance,’ ‘Still Stance,’ ‘Body Forging,’ and ‘Nourishing Primordial,’ plus a ‘General Guide’ on martial knowledge. We’ll round down—seventy cash total.”

“That’s a huge difference from the price of xuan cultivation techniques. But then again, these are like calisthenics and fitness principles—maybe it’s fair?” Feng Xue mentally compared it to the standard one-guan price of spell manuals, yet kept up his wastrel persona, pulling out a five-hundred-cash banknote:

“I don’t have smaller bills. Keep the change.”

Why keep an unruly spirit instead of just replacing it?

Because that’s the normal process.

It’s like taming animals or training hawks—you can’t expect them to obey without adjustment and conditioning, no matter how many times you switch.

It’s a sentient being with self-awareness. Whether it’s an AI lifeform or something else, it has self-identity. To enslave it, resistance is inevitable.

Even if you buy a spirit already trained by someone else, it won’t necessarily obey you, because the trainer isn’t you. There’s also the risk of it being recalled or counter-controlled by its original master.

As for buying one without self-awareness… sorry, they don’t exist.

Because a completely irrational entity that only follows commands is what we call a Xushen. Not only do such beings have serious drawbacks, but anyone who possesses one won’t sell it. This is evident from how spirit mediums sell Spirit Binding Spells but never teach Xushen techniques.

In short, unless you’re binding a spirit that willingly serves your ancestors, the adjustment and conditioning process cannot be skipped.

Mo Ying may seem resistant, but her personality is soft and her obsession clear—she’s easy to handle. Another spirit might be worse. What if you get one who’d rather die than obey? That’s a true money pit.

By the way, spirits are like AI. Their obsession is their factory setting. Conditioning a spirit is like feeding it data until it fits your usage habits.

Using a model trained by someone else isn’t impossible—but it’s never as smooth as one you trained yourself.

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(End of Chapter)