Era of Mist

’Piracy? Pirate what?’

’Pirating auxiliary cultivation manuals... Is there money in that?’

Is that even a question? Of course there’s money in it!

Shi Tiexin suddenly realized he had a fantastic way to make money: pirating auxiliary cultivation manuals!

’Think about it. How many high-grade, premium-grade, or even peerless-grade auxiliary cultivation manuals have I seen? And how many has the Champion Scholar Stone version of me seen over the years? I might not know them by heart, but I’m at least extremely familiar with them.’

’With my perfect-level fundamentals in the four basic arithmetic operations, even if I’d completely forgotten all the problems I’d ever done, I could still create a whole new set from scratch without any issue. I know all the hurdles, difficult points, and progression gradients in the first tier of Basic Mathematics cultivation like the back of my hand.’

’Forget peerless-grade, and I won’t even hope for premium-grade. What about high-grade? No, I don’t even need high-grade. Even just an ordinary-grade auxiliary cultivation manual would be more than enough!’

An ordinary-quality manual from the Champion Scholar Stone’s timeline would be the best auxiliary cultivation manual you could find on the market here. A twenty-percent boost to cultivation speed, even if it’s just for the first tier, and even if it’s a pirated copy... If I shouted out a super-discounted price of one hundred points per copy, people would be breaking down doors for it!

’I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t I think of this before?’

’This is the biggest money-making path I can grasp right now, one that completely plays to my strengths!’

’Once I get started, I’ll make thirty or fifty copies a day, and the money will just... Nhehehehehe, MWAHAHAHAHAHA~!’

WHAP. He smacked a fist into his palm, cracked his knuckles—CRACKLE, CRACKLE—and, filled with soaring ambition, Shi Tiexin picked up his pen to write.

’Easy, easy, what could be simpler? Addition and subtraction within ten. Let’s go!’

The tip of the pen touched down—and then paused.

’Huh?!!’

Shi Tiexin lifted the pen as if he’d been electrocuted. He stared at its tip in stunned disbelief, then at the blank white paper, not understanding what had just happened.

’What’s going on? Why can’t I write?’

’Let’s try again!’

The tip of the pen touched down... ’Addition and subtraction within ten... Let’s go—’

SNAP!

The pen tip lifted again. Only a faint dot marked the white paper, but Shi Tiexin’s face had turned pale. For some reason, he had suddenly felt all the Mind-Energy in his brain begin to boil. The harder he tried to force himself to write, the more violently his Mind-Energy churned.

’What the hell is happening? Why can’t I write it down!’

He never had this feeling when doing normal calculations. An auxiliary cultivation manual was just a set of equations with the final answers after the equal signs omitted. Why couldn’t he write it?

’It’s like... something is stopping me.’

’What is it? My own moral compass? Bullshit!’

Shi Tiexin stood stunned for a moment, then shook his head sharply.

’This is just bizarre. If I can’t even make simple math cards, then I’ll just use Rhetoric to pirate a manual. I’m always writing anyway. Practicing calligraphy is writing, and copying a text is also writing. There’s no difference. It’s impossible that I can’t write it.’

Facing it like a great enemy, Shi Tiexin placed the tip of his pen on the paper for a third time. He squared his stance, intending to copy out a simple version of the Thousand Character Classic.

But the moment the pen touched the paper, it froze, unable to move at all. Shi Tiexin ground his teeth—GRIND—as veins bulged on his forehead and his face flushed beet red. With a low roar, he finally managed to drag the pen. But he had only written the first horizontal stroke of the first word when his expression changed drastically.

His face went from white to red and back again. He shot up from his chair and staggered to the bathroom, where he finally started to gag violently. GAG!

He retched and heaved for a long time until his face was ashen. Only then did Shi Tiexin manage to stand up, feeling slightly better. That sensation just now had been terrifying. It had acted directly on his spiritual domain, on his Mind-Energy, and the intense backlash had been completely unfiltered.

This time, Shi Tiexin finally felt it for certain: there was indeed some incomprehensible, grand mechanism preventing his act of piracy.

The feeling was somewhat like the Perfect Wall before the ninety-ninth degree of Profundity, but there were also significant differences. The first difference was that this barrier wasn’t a passive defense; it was a defensive counterattack! The more force he used to try and break through it, the larger and more powerful the counterattack he would face.

Shi Tiexin’s violent vomiting was a direct result of that counterattack mechanism at work.

The second difference was that he had a feeling this defense wasn’t as strong, as hard, or as thick as the Perfect Wall. Of course, even if it was thinner, softer, or weaker, it was only in relative terms. The current Shi Tiexin had no way of breaking through it.

’But, if I let my imagination run wild... if I used the Celestial Golden Light, that should be enough to break through this defensive mechanism...’

’Sigh... forget it.’

THUD. Shi Tiexin collapsed onto his bed.

’I shouldn’t overthink this. The Celestial Golden Light is incredibly rare; I can’t possibly waste it on something so trivial. It must be that powerful beings like the Sub-Saints have built a rule into the very fabric of reality that prevents individuals from creating auxiliary cultivation manuals. That makes sense. If this mechanism didn’t exist, how could the market for auxiliary cultivation manuals be so profitable and monopolized?’

’The way they were in the other world—dirt cheap and everywhere—that’s how it should be.’

Hmph!

’It seems those bigwigs really spare no effort when it comes to blocking the spread of knowledge and sealing off the paths for the common folk.’

’A bunch of... bastards...’

Rubbing his throbbing temples, Shi Tiexin looked at the thick stack of blank white cards. He should stop thinking about these crooked schemes. The proper path was to honestly work with that guy with the glasses to embezzle Liu Qigang’s company assets. Although it was harder work and the money would come more slowly, it was at least a feasible path.

’Speaking of which, what was that glasses guy’s name again?’

「—Piracy was, of course, a bust.—」

"Star Industry Meat Union Plant, Office of the Vice Director, Tao Zhongming," the man in glasses read, sounding out each character on the card. He then examined its corners and the information on the back, finally nodding in satisfaction. "Good. Not bad. The writing is really quite good."

"Vice Director Tao, you truly have a keen eye! And my big bro’s skill is top-notch, no doubt about it. He may not be famous now, but he’s sure to be a renowned master in the future." Little Dog slapped his chest, his expression exaggerated. "I guarantee it, Vice Director Tao, you’ve struck gold! You’re now the owner of one of the first custom-made business cards from a future master. Once my big bro actually gets famous, it won’t be this price anymore. By then, a single one of these cards will be a collector’s item, an artwork!"

Hearing Gou Danzi’s pitch, the man in glasses, Tao Zhongming, was taken aback. It was unclear what he was thinking, but he suddenly glanced around, then leaned in again and whispered to Shi Tiexin, "Your little brother is loud and boisterous, and he seems to keep emphasizing the ’Vice’ part, which is rather unpleasant. But he’s not entirely wrong. With your calligraphy, I think you could definitely enter a competition."

"A competition? What kind?" Shi Tiexin had been getting excited lately whenever he heard the word "competition." A competition with public credibility could earn him Celestial Golden Light, and you could never have too much of that stuff.

"A calligraphy competition!"