Monster Cultivation

The manager of the monster pen gave all the kids Ferna-ganism books (the official name). Even if they used the word interchangeable with monster, those in the research field preferred the real name of those creatures over just 'monsters'.

Drew stood at the back, watching as the kids examined the monsters and flipped through a book they’d been given.

The book listed all the monsters on this floor along with their stats:

- Strength

- Travel speed

- Combat speed

- Toughness

- Senses

- Passive Ferna consumption rate

- Meat consumption rate

- Special food requirements

- Active feature Ferna consumption

- Special conditions

It was a lot to take in, especially for those who weren’t familiar with these things. Monsters fed on both Ferna and meat, so knowing how much they consumed—and whether you could keep up—was crucial. “Special food” was pretty self-explanatory. Sometimes it was ice, fire, or even darkness. Active features referred to how much Ferna a monster needed to use its abilities or enhance its strength. And “special conditions”? That was rare for Tier 1 monsters.

Drew had already decided which one he wanted.

There was a rare monster at the front, worth eight times more than any of the common ones around it. It was just there to motivate the kids, a goal for them to work toward.

It was a dog sized blue turtle. With a shell composed of ice, and a strong face structure, like it was built to head butt things. But with the five inch knifes it had for teeth, it would probably choose to rip things apart instead.

Millia muttered, "Ice breath."

Drew leaned in. “It needs a lot of ice to stay healthy. Think your icy personality’s enough for that?”

It was a corny joke, but she appreciated it. “You’re one to talk. I’ll feed you to it—whole.”

“You plan on overfeeding it already?”

She cracked a smile. "You have a couple okay jokes."

"I practice."

He really did—almost obsessively so. When he relived those future memories, he devoted countless hours fixated on certain events that might unfold, meticulously crafting strategies. So, he wrote down counters

One page in particular was filled with endless scenarios—conversations and jokes crafted specifically for Millia. After all her counter was to become her friend.

As much as Drew wished he could be the effortlessly cool, charismatic guy who always knew what to say on the fly, he just wasn’t. Instead, he prepared.

Millia asked Drew, "How about the floating fire ball? If I wanted to kill it, you think I can just feed you it in whole?"

"Maybe."

Unbeknownst to Drew, Rei noticed the exchange and didn’t like it.

Miss Maroon called out to the students with a broad smile. “Y’all excited?”

“Yeah!” they shouted in unison.

The students spent the entire day cultivating, pushing their limits as long as they could focus. For beginners, that meant about an hour or two at most. It was easy to lose concentration when immersed in the mind space, and the resulting headaches from wielding Ferna for so long didn’t help.

And once you broke focus, getting back into the mind space took forever. Only experience could lessen such difficulties.

But Drew didn’t falter for a moment. He entered his mind space in less than a second.

While everyone else was building their Ferna vessels, Drew was purifying his own Ferna, pushing it to reach level 5.

The higher the quality of Ferna, the easier it was to manipulate—and the stronger the vessel would become.

Time passed around Drew. Clouds moved across the sky; rain fell and drenched him, but he felt nothing. The sun shone bright, then dipped below the horizon, giving way to the rising moon. When the full moon hung in the sky, casting its glow, twelve hours had passed.

Drew’s eyes opened slowly. He touched his face, feeling the scar on his chin—smaller than before. There was less discoloration on his stomach, too. He felt more energized, his muscles a bit stronger.

Drew stood up, punched forward, far faster than he did in the past. He jumped, covering 7 meters. Then began shadow boxing for no real reason other than to be amazed by his capabilities.

A memory surfaced. When future Drew first become a Bronzeheart Core Weaver, he’d felt… beautiful.

He’d been in a small, cozy hut, staring at his naked body in a mirror. His muscle tone, density, skull shape, facial symmetry, hair texture and quality, his eyes… even his saliva. Everything had been perfect.

It’d be a long time before the current Drew would reach that realm.

Drew’s stomach growled. He needed something to eat, but his core points only covered one meal, which was usually breakfast—no lunch or dinner. And real money couldn’t be used to buy food.

But money always had value. Always. Especially to those less fortunate.

He entered the basic school shop and saw the familiar shopkeeper. The man nodded in greeting. “Good to see you.”

Drew knew he was risking being blackmailed. But he had no choice. He placed three white marbles on the counter. “Can you get me some food?”

The man stared at the money. A big lunch usually cost ten grey marbles—just a fifth of a white one. Of course, there were marbles worth more than the white ones.

Drew wasn’t just paying for the food, but also for the risk the man was taking.

The shopkeeper pocketed the marbles. “Our little secret, right?”

“Yeah.”

If Drew got caught, he would risk an hour of whippings.

The man locked the shop and disappeared into the back. It took him about thirty minutes to return with a closed box of food.

Drew took it and devoured everything—rice, plantains, crab, roasted fish—in under five minutes. It was scalding hot, but he didn’t care. His tongue did, though, and it’d be sore for the next day.

When he was done, he crushed the box and shoved it into his shoe. After thanking the man, he made his way back to the dormitory.

He doubted the man would backstab him, but people mind changed often. It was best to get rid of the box himself.

When he entered the building, he saw a lot of the kids were cultivating, some were sweating, a few clutching their heads in pain. Drew slipped into the bathroom, folded the box, and flushed it away. Then he washed his mouth and grabbed the organic toothpaste, scrubbing away any lingering scent.

When he stepped out, he noticed a few kids giving him odd looks.

There's no way they can smell it off me.

Just as he was about to shrug it off, someone stepped in front of him. Rei.

“What do you want with my sister?” he demanded.

“Huh?” Drew blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

"You heard him. Don’t act stupid!" another lackey jeered.

"Yeah! Trying to get cozy with her, huh?"

Drew was baffled, but he knew this was his fault. The only person he went out of his way to talk to was a girl. Of course they would assume he had romantic intentions.

Annoyed, he almost wanted to shout, "None of your damn business."

He wanted to be her friend because she desperately needed one. It was also related to things he knew about the future. In the alternate future, before they became friends, they were enemies, and she nearly killed him at least six times.

Becoming her friend was also a survival tactic to prevent them from becoming enemies again. But most of all, he genuinely wanted to help her. If she rejected his friendship, he would still need to steer things to avoid future conflict.

But he couldn't explain that. And if he said he wanted to be her friend they wouldn't believe it.

Drew knew he needed to respond and couldn’t be passive like he was with Jiman. If he showed weakness now, they would try to exploit it every chance they got.

“I wanted to talk to her, and I did. Why do you care?” Drew said.

The bootlickers were stunned. Did Drew—a nobody until today—just stand up to the son of the Clan Patriarch? Had he lost his mind?

Someone needed to put him in his place. And Beil, the great-grandson of a wiseman, decided it was his moment. He lunged forward, grabbed Drew’s shirt, and threw a punch with all his strength.

Drew head moved to the side.

“Now apologize, or I’ll punch you again!” Beil shouted in Drew’s face, thrilled that Rei was watching.

He had to act fast before someone else stole his spotlight.

“I said, apologize!” he yelled, winding up for another punch. But before he could throw it, Drew caught his forearm with his left hand and slammed his other elbow into Beil’s nose with brutal force, breaking it.

The onlookers froze. Things escalated so fast that no one knew what to do.

But Drew wasn’t finished. He punched Beil in the stomach—right where his core was. Not once, not twice, but three times.

Standing up, Drew asked Rei, “You still want to fight me?”

The kids that had surrounded Drew backed off. Beil was bleeding, and it all happened in an instant.

Drew stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Rei, who was struggling to keep his composure. “What’s the problem? Jealous I’m talking to your sister? You want to kiss her or something?”

Rei’s face twisted in anger. Drew might as well have called him a dog that didn’t know who his mother or aunt was.

“You filthy beast. Take that back!” Rei demanded.

“No!”

Drew moved right up to Rei, their faces inches apart. They were almost the same height, with Rei barely taller by an inch and a half.

A few kids ran off to get a medic for Beil, so Drew knew he had to act quickly. He counted down, “If you don’t want to fight, apologize to me. Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Rei had been raised by the best trainers. Just who did this kid think he was?

Rei screamed in his mind, I’m Rei, the son of the Patriarch!

He threw a punch at Drew’s face, but it was just a diversion for a kick aimed at his stomach—

Drew’s leg shot up, aiming for Rei’s head. If that connected, Rei would be knocked out. Rei abandoned his punch and moved to block the kick, but Drew's leg stopped short, bent back, and redirected to his ribcage.

Pain exploded through Rei’s body. He should have noticed the kick was moving too slowly...

Drew hadn’t hit him hard enough to break ribs—he simply wasn’t strong enough in his current state. The nose bridge was soft and easy to break, but pulling back on that kick had cost him too much power. Still, it was strong enough to make sitting up a nightmare for Rei for the next few days.

Rei collapsed, gasping in pain. He wanted to scream, but this wasn’t his first time getting hit so hard, so he forced himself to keep quiet.

Not that it mattered. Whatever reputation he was trying to build was now in shambles. Drew hadn’t given him much of a choice.

The reason Rei hesitated so long wasn’t because he thought he would lose. But that small chance lingered in his mind, and it frightened him. So he waited, hoping the medics and an instructor would arrive. When he heard their voices, he’d planned to strike Drew first, then put him in a hold. The medics would arrive and separate them, and the other kids would say Drew was only spared because the medics showed up in time.

Drew didn’t know Rei’s exact plan, but he understood what would happen if the medics reached them. Drew’s goal was to humiliate Rei and strip away his influence among the students.

Drew actually hoped Rei would back down, which would make him look like a coward. In a world like theirs, being a coward was worse than dying.

Of course, Drew knew that was a long shot. He just hoped the beating he gave Beil would make it slightly more likely.

If it came to a fight, it was a fifty-fifty chance. Rei had been trained by top-tier martial artists. Drew only had memories of fighting with a fully grown body that could perform superhuman feats, so he worried he might subconsciously try to do things his current body couldn’t handle.

Sure, Drew had his future's memoires of combat as a child, but his adult life far out shadowed his child life.

He had to suppress most of his instincts and rely solely on his knowledge and 'experience', adjusting his moves to match his young body as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, he had been training intensely before the ceremony to build up his strength. Of course, being in a thirteen-year-old’s body severely dampened that.

The medics arrived and took Beil and Rei away.

Without a word, Drew made his way back to his section of the room, folded his legs, calmly rest his hands on his knees and closed his eyes.

He was cultivating.

He didn’t need to go through the motions, but it was all for show.