Star City Academy, Cafeteria.
During breakfast time, the "meal squad" gathered in the northern corner of the cafeteria.
Feng Qi was having breakfast while casually chatting with Lin Ran about the academy's teaching system. During his time teaching at Star City Academy, he had noticed a flaw in the institution's policies.
Every student was required to memorize the latest content from the Cultivation System Framework, published by the Tiger Soul Research Institute.
Understanding this material and passing the quarterly assessments contributed to their credit scores and influenced their year-end evaluations.
However, Feng Qi felt that such a requirement was entirely unnecessary.
He could understand why students in the Cultivation Research class needed to study this material—it was critical for their development. By staying updated on the latest framework, they could deepen their understanding of cultivation systems.
But for students in Combat, Formation, Medical, and other classes, mastering this content seemed irrelevant. Their futures were not tied to the cultivation system framework, and failing to understand it wouldn't hinder their growth.
Yet, because these assessments affected credits, year-end evaluations, graduation outcomes, and even scholarships, students from every class were forced to memorize the content.
This created a competitive and wasteful cycle where students spent a significant amount of time memorizing the updated framework, a practice that had no meaningful impact on their development.
In Feng Qi's opinion, while understanding the cultivation framework could help students in their academic journey and reduce detours, linking it to credits and evaluations was unnecessary and counterproductive.
It created a pseudo-compulsory learning environment, forcing students to waste valuable time on quarterly updates instead of focusing on more meaningful activities, such as delving deeper into their chosen disciplines.
After listening to Feng Qi's thoughts, Lin Ran smiled and responded:
"Honestly, a lot of students spend about a third of their time learning this material. I also think it's a waste."
"For someone like me, who loves cultivation research, it's helpful, but for Medical or other students, it doesn't make much sense."
Feng Qi nodded in agreement and added:
"I think it should be optional, allowing students to decide for themselves. It shouldn't be tied to credits, evaluations, or scholarships."
Lin Ran nodded. "But the current system has created an environment where everyone is forced to learn. It looks voluntary, but since resources are linked to it, students can't compete with their peers if they skip it. So, in the end, everyone has to do it."
"Many students on the academy forum have been discussing this issue," Lin Ran added with a smile.
Noticing Feng Qi's curiosity, Lin Ran continued:
"They've come up with a metaphor for this situation. It's like a legendary martial arts manual, the Sunflower Manual. Everyone desires it because possessing it makes you invincible."
"But imagine if the manual were made public, allowing anyone to learn it. It would spell disaster."
"If everyone had access to the Sunflower Manual, learning it would no longer be a choice. For instance, if you had an enemy, and you didn't practice the manual, they could master it and defeat you. That would force you to learn it as well. Eventually, everyone in the martial arts world would have to learn it."
"But practicing it would come with a cost—sacrificing something important. In the end, no one would benefit because everyone would lose equally. It's a lose-lose scenario."
"In this analogy, the cultivation system framework is like the Sunflower Manual. If you don't study it, others will outperform you academically and earn more credits, scholarships, and better opportunities. But studying it comes at the cost of your valuable time. And since everyone ends up studying it, the benefits are nullified. Everyone loses time, and no one truly gains anything."
After hearing Lin Ran's explanation, Feng Qi nodded thoughtfully.
"Has the academy considered changing this policy?"
Lin Ran paused to think before responding:
"Bai Shi-gong brought it up once, but cultivation-related policies at Star City Academy are managed by the Tiger Soul Research Institute. It seems his proposal wasn't approved."
Hearing this, Feng Qi couldn't help but speculate.
Perhaps this was a deliberate strategy by the Tiger Soul Research Institute to slow humanity's development—forcing the brightest young talents to waste their time on trivial updates to the cultivation framework.
With this thought, Feng Qi asked:
"What would it take to bypass the Tiger Soul Research Institute and change the policy? Can we unlink the cultivation framework from credits and scholarships?"
"Bai Shi-gong could technically do that. After all, he's the principal, and the academy ultimately reports to the Ministry of Education, not the Tiger Soul Research Institute."
"However, cultivation policies have long been managed by the Tiger Soul Research Institute. Bai Shi-gong seems to have already submitted a proposal to the Ministry of Education. We just don't know when it'll be approved."
Feng Qi nodded thoughtfully at Lin Ran's response.
Feng Qi made a mental note to delve deeper into this matter during his next venture into the future dreamscape.
A fair competitive environment could greatly enhance humanity's progress in cultivation studies, but an unhealthy competitive atmosphere—much like the Sunflower Manual analogy Lin Ran had shared—was nothing but an endless cycle of futility. Not practicing it left one at a disadvantage; practicing it consumed precious resources and still provided no real benefit.
This kind of system, riddled with inefficiency, wasted everyone's time. Solving such a fundamental problem would undoubtedly serve as another step forward for human cultivation.
After finishing breakfast, Feng Qi and Lin Ran bid farewell to Mu Qing and headed toward the academy library.
The light drizzle outside painted the air with a refreshing coolness. Willow branches swayed gently in the rain, their golden leaves scattered across the ground. The tranquil scenery brought to mind a poetic couplet:
"How much leisure fills the heart? A river of grass, a city of drifting willows."
While casually chatting with Lin Ran along the way, they soon arrived at the library. Feng Qi selected a book on battle formation configurations, while Lin Ran picked a text on cultivation research techniques.
Seated in the reading room, they quickly immersed themselves in their respective studies.
Whenever Lin Ran encountered something he didn't understand, he would proactively ask Feng Qi for help. Knowing his potential to resist the Mist Lord's parasitic influence, Feng Qi answered every question with patience and clarity.
Having reviewed dozens of foundational cultivation concepts in the future database, Feng Qi found these basic questions trivial. His explanations, often more nuanced and insightful than those in the books, left Lin Ran in awe.
"Qi-ge, your approach is genius! It's way better than the examples in the book!" Lin Ran exclaimed with admiration.
Feng Qi merely smiled at his flattery, brushing it off without taking it to heart.
Watching Lin Ran deeply absorbed in his studies, he felt a glimmer of hope.
"May the future allow us to walk this path together."
Despite the countless disappointments he had faced in the dreamscape, every entry into the future still filled Feng Qi with cautious optimism. Perhaps, he thought, this time he might uncover an unexpected breakthrough.
The once opaque and uncertain future was gradually becoming clearer with each exploration. Everything seemed to be moving in a better direction.
"The future is full of potential," Feng Qi mused, a faint smile curling on his lips.
"Hope is the greatest weapon one can wield. With it, nothing is insurmountable."
["Mental fortitude is true strength! I have to say, Qi-ge, your positive mindset must be inherited from me!"] the narrator chimed in.
Feng Qi: …
"Shut up, stupid system!" he snapped internally.
Lin Ran, who had been reading his book, suddenly looked up with a puzzled expression.
"Qi-ge, why are you scolding me?" he asked, his voice tinged with grievance.
"I wasn't talking about you. Focus on your book!" Feng Qi replied dismissively.
As Lin Ran returned to his studies, Feng Qi engaged in an intense internal sparring match with the narrator in his mental realm. The verbal duel revolved around a flurry of comebacks and imaginative insults, taking the narrator to task in every conceivable way.
By lunchtime, Feng Qi finished his meal and returned to his dormitory, sitting down at his desk.
The rest of his day was spent re-evaluating his plans for the future.
The changes in the real-world timeline meant his prior strategies for the dreamscape needed adjustments.
His interaction with the shadow assassin had inadvertently painted him as a "peer" in the eyes of many domain factions. This made it nearly impossible for his future self to pursue the undercover routes he had originally planned.
For instance, one of his prior objectives had been to infiltrate the Tiger Soul Research Institute. But given his new domain-affiliated identity, such a plan now carried significant risks.
The shadow assassin had promised to keep his identity confidential, claiming it would only be shared within its own faction.
But what if that information leaked?
If the domain faction behind the Tiger Soul Research Institute learned about his circumstances, any attempt to go undercover would become not only futile but laughable. His actions would appear baffling and suicidal to them, raising suspicion and possibly leading to him being eliminated on sight.
Worst-case scenario, he could be captured, brainwashed, or subjected to memory extraction on the very first day of his infiltration attempt.
Clearly, the evolving real-world timeline rendered the infiltration plans obsolete.
Feng Qi decisively scrapped all future scenarios that relied on undercover operations within domain factions. Those approaches were now irrelevant.
However, these changes also opened new pathways for exploration.
For example, with his newly established domain identity, Feng Qi could potentially engage with other domain factions to extract valuable information.
The primary risk in this strategy was his future self's loss of the combat form and Blood Source abilities.
Without these powers, even a minor probe could expose his true identity as a human. This would compromise his mission instantly.
Thus, any interaction with domain factions in the dreamscape needed to be handled with utmost discretion.
Online interactions, conducted anonymously, were the safest method. Minimizing direct, real-world contact would significantly reduce the chances of exposure.
Like a husky trying to blend in with a pack of wolves, the future version of Feng Qi simply lacked the hard power required to succeed in such a setting.
However, the changes in the reality line weren't entirely negative when viewed from a different perspective.
If he refrained from actively engaging with other domain factions, his personal safety in the future line would be relatively more secure.
The failed attempt to infiltrate the Tiger Soul Research Institute taught him one crucial lesson: all domain factions were exceedingly cautious. They rarely launched provocations or attacks against other factions they knew little about.
This lack of aggression could potentially extend his lifespan, as it reduced the number of factions likely to target him.
But nothing was guaranteed.
The apparent alliances between domain factions were often superficial. Behind the scenes, they engaged in open rivalry and covert scheming, each laying out their future strategies.
It was entirely possible that one faction could take a particular interest in him.
Beyond that, Feng Qi couldn't shake the feeling that "dying young" was like a curse hanging over him. No matter what precautions he took, circumstances always seemed to conspire to drag him prematurely out of this beautiful world.
No matter how he tried to avoid it, the outcome seemed inevitable.
As he thought about it, his plans began to crystallize.
Initially, he had planned to infiltrate the Future Research Institute to obtain valuable information. But this time, he decided to change his approach.
After all, he couldn't be entirely sure that the Future Research Institute hadn't already been infiltrated.
With the changes to the reality line, direct infiltration was no longer an option. Instead, he needed to find other ways to engage with the Future Research Institute.
For example, he could utilize the Crimson Research Institute to probe the Future Research Institute.
Alternatively, he could cultivate trustworthy operatives and arrange for them to infiltrate the Future Research Institute to gather intelligence.
Without Le Ping'an, the infiltrator from before, he now had the freedom to explore multiple angles for testing the Future Research Institute's credibility.
Time passed as he mulled over these ideas.
Eventually, he marked three plans in his notebook with checkmarks:
Cultivate trustworthy students to join the Future Research Institute (√).
Collaborate with the Crimson Research Institute to initiate exploratory contact with the Future Research Institute (√).
Leverage the Shadow Assassin to acquire intelligence about the Future Research Institute (√).
This time, he resolved to center his investigation around these three plans.
While the strategy had changed slightly, one constant remained: he would avoid contact with both the Tiger Soul Research Institute and the Technological Research Institute to prevent unforeseen developments that could disrupt the flow of intelligence.
Additionally, he decided not to access the memories of this sacrificial timeline.
Any intelligence obtained could be retrieved through his email logs. Given the unavoidable aftereffects of memory retrieval, he chose to heed the narrator's advice and refrain from accessing those memories unless absolutely necessary.
Having made his decision, he walked over to the couch and picked up the bottle of Meritorious Wine sitting on the coffee table.
Uncorking the bottle, he gulped down several mouthfuls, draining another third of its contents.
The liquid slid down his throat and settled in his stomach as his body temperature began to rise. The energy bar on his interface also started ticking upward.
As he waited, the energy bar eventually reached 100%. Feng Qi lay down on the couch, closed his eyes, and let sleep overtake him.
In the silence of his thoughts, fragments of information wove through his mind.
Moments later, drowsiness overcame him, and his expression grew serene.
When Feng Qi opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the Dream World.
This iteration of the dream world hadn't changed. The hazy Blood Moon, symbolizing the domain world, still hung high in the sky.
Clearly, the changes in the future version of himself had not yet altered the trajectory of human civilization's ultimate fate.
He wasn't surprised by this result, having already anticipated it.
Next, Feng Qi decided to head to the Star City Shelter to investigate any historical changes along this future timeline.
Most importantly, he needed to gather intelligence related to the Future Research Institute to determine its reliability.
"Roar!"
A familiar raspy growl suddenly echoed from not far away. Feng Qi looked up to see Little Cripple struggling to its feet, issuing a hoarse snarl in his direction.
Without hesitation, Feng Qi took two steps forward.
Just as his right leg was about to launch a kick, the narrator's voice interrupted him in his mind:
[Wait, hold on! I want to see it try to do the splits.]
Feng Qi: …