Dawn.
East Sea Fortress City.
The Outer City. A derelict area codenamed the "Airplane Graveyard."
Han Feng stood before a rickety reclining chair, his posture as straight as a spear.
He held out a thin chip card with both hands.
"Uncle Sun, this month's fee."
The old man on the recliner cracked open his eyelids. His cloudy gaze swept over the chip card and Han Feng's calm face, but he didn't take it.
"Kid, you saved up enough again?"
The old man's voice was a bit hoarse, his tone thick with bewilderment.
"Fifteen hundred Contribution Points just to fly that iron coffin around in the sky for an hour. What's the point?"
"I see your Qi Blood hasn't improved one bit since last month. Bet your mouth tastes like nothing, huh? Eating nutrition paste every day?"
Han Feng smiled and stuffed the card directly into the old man's hand.
"Don't you worry about me, old timer."
His tone was light.
"As long as I can get my hands on a plane a few more times in this life, I'll be satisfied."
"And what if? What if I awaken a Talent for flying and become an ace pilot someday? Half the credit on my record will be yours."
"You kid, you're as stubborn as a mule."
The old man grumbled but ultimately said no more.
"Alright, then. It's the usual Initial Training-3. Just had it serviced yesterday."
"Take it easy. No fancy maneuvers. If that old relic falls apart, you can't afford to pay for it."
Uncle Sun picked up a heavily scratched terminal, swiped the chip, and waved his hand impatiently before lying back down.
"Don't worry, Uncle Sun. My pockets are cleaner than my face. I wouldn't dare do anything reckless."
As his voice faded, Han Feng turned and walked toward the tarmac.
He walked with steady steps. The cratered ground beneath his feet felt to him like a staircase to the clouds.
Not far away, a grease-covered maintenance worker nudged his companion with his elbow.
"Hey, look. That psycho's here again."
His companion glanced over, clucking his tongue and shaking his head.
"He's completely obsessed. I hear he's just a commoner from the Outer City, does odd jobs at the Martial Arts University's maintenance department just to scrape together these Contribution Points."
"With that kind of money, he could buy a couple vials of Body Tempering Liquid and his Cultivation would've gone up long ago. But he insists on burning it all here."
"These junker planes… fly one out of the Safe Zone and any random Iron Feather Bird could tear it to shreds. What's the damn point of practicing with this thing?"
"Exactly. Air combat nowadays is all about Spiritual Energy Fighters. Who even bothers with this stuff anymore? It's a total waste of effort."
"If that were my son, I'd break both his legs!"
"Heh, your son couldn't even get into a Martial Arts University."
"..."
Their chatter buzzed around him like flies.
Han Feng paid them no mind.
It had been three years.
Three whole years since he'd arrived in this world.
A post-apocalyptic world shrouded in "Sky-Mist," where civilization huddled on isolated fortress islands.
From his initial terror to his current calm, he had long since accepted the fact that his Talent was mediocre.
At East Sea Martial Arts University, he was just another unremarkable D Level Student.
After graduation, the best-case scenario was becoming a cog in the machine of some corporate conglomerate. The worst-case was becoming an expendable asset at some outpost in the wilderness.
Of course, he had a secret.
A system, dormant deep within his soul.
The [Sword Immortal Cultivation Assistant].
A system that... hadn't awakened yet.
Right now, its only function was to provide a basic status panel.
[Name: Han Feng]
[Class: Not Activated]
[Cultivation: Body Tempering Fourth Layer (788/800)]
[Cultivation Technique: Body Forging Technique (Proficient 388/400)]
[Qi Blood: 498/498]
It was thanks to this data panel that he could squeeze out every last drop from his resources during cultivation, precisely control his physical state, and ultimately, miraculously test into a Martial Arts University.
But it wasn't enough.
Not nearly enough.
The chasm between aptitude and resources was an insurmountable gulf.
If he wanted to truly change his fate, he had to fully activate the system.
There was only one condition: [Sword Control Technique Entry Level].
To activate the system, he had tried all sorts of methods: practicing with swords, even throwing darts.
He'd even secretly tried using remote-controlled drones, but nothing worked.
At one point, he had despaired.
Until a year ago, while doing odd jobs at the university's maintenance department, he happened to enter a flight simulator and play a virtual air combat game called *Eagle Strikes the Sky*.
[Host detected performing repeated simulated Sword Control. Sword Control Technique Skill Proficiency +1]
In that moment, a beam of light pierced the darkness.
He started working like a madman, dumping all his Contribution Points into simulator training.
But when the progress bar crawled to [30/100], it got stuck.
The system's notification was cold and merciless.
[Simulation practice has reached its limit. No further improvement can be gained.]
[Host is requested to perform true Sword Control Technique cultivation.]
And so, this Airplane Graveyard became his last hope.
He used every skill he had learned and every connection he had made at the maintenance department, signing a life-and-death waiver and a damage liability agreement, just to earn the right to fly this ancient Initial Training-3.
Han Feng walked a slow circle around the plane.
The faded paint and dilapidated fuselage were covered in the ravages of time.
His fingers traced the cold leading edge of the wing, the rusty landing gear, and the patch-covered tail rudder.
His movements were meticulous, his gaze focused, as if he were caressing a priceless treasure.
Inspection complete.
He pulled open the CREAKING canopy and nimbly vaulted into the seat.
The needles on the instrument panel were yellowed with age, the markings faded and unclear.
Han Feng took a deep breath, his hands moving skillfully over the various switches and levers.
'Check the fuel line!'
'Ignition on!'
'Adjust the choke!'
Finally, he pressed the starter button.
VRRROOOOM—!
The engine let out a beastly roar, and the entire fuselage began to shake violently.
Han Feng put on his flight helmet, blocking out the noise, and slowly pushed the throttle.
The Initial Training-3 trembled as it rolled out of the hangar and began to accelerate down the crude runway.
Bumping.
Swaying.
His body jolted violently with the fuselage, but his hands on the control stick were steady as a rock.
His feet made constant, precise micro-adjustments on the rudder pedals, keeping the fuselage pinned to the centerline of the runway.
Faster and faster!
He gently pulled back on the control stick.
The nose pitched up!
The next second, the entire plane suddenly felt weightless. It broke free from gravity's pull and soared into the gray, predawn sky!
The wind howled in his ears!
The ground swiftly receded below!
The dense, gray shantytowns of the Outer City and the radiant, glittering Inner City behind its high walls formed two starkly contrasting sights.
One was a mire of desperate survival.
The other, a kingdom in the clouds, looking down from on high.
Just then, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out in his mind!
[Host detected performing Sword Flight...]
[Sword Control Technique Skill Proficiency +1]
Han Feng's mind was as still as water as he continued to control his "Flying Sword."
The passage of time became audibly clear.
Every few minutes, that heavenly notification would sound again.
Finally, after half an hour of flying.
The final judgment arrived.
[Host detected performing Sword Flight...]
[Sword Control Technique Skill Proficiency +1]
[Ding! Sword Control Technique Skill Proficiency has reached 100/100. Automatically upgrading to Sword Control Technique·Entry Level!]
[Ding! Class change condition met!]
[Congratulations, Host, on becoming an "Apprentice Sword Cultivator"! System fully activated!]