Chapter 71: Heaven Rank Cultivation Manual

Chapter 71: Chapter 71: Heaven Rank Cultivation Manual

With a clean thousand merit points sitting in his institutional account, Eric had zero intention of letting his capital currency sit idle.

Leaving the lecture quad behind, he unlatched a mana scooter at the magnetic dock, leaned into the throttle, and navigated toward the central sector where the soaring silhouette of the *Academy Treasure Pavilion* dominated the inner quad.

Constructed from obsidian-veined granite and encircled by towering wards of humming runic barriers, the pavilion stood as the economic heartbeat of the Central Research Institution. It was where blood, sweat, academic dissertations, and dangerous rift expeditions were converted into real power.

Stepping through the heavy bronze double doors, Eric found himself inside a vast, cavernous rotunda lined with reinforced crystal display plinths and sealed subterranean vaults.

Behind the wide service counter sat an elderly man with wild, silver-streaked hair, casually whittling a block of fragrant cedarwood with a small curved draw-knife. He wore a faded, patched scholar’s coat, yet the dense, heavy pressure rolling off his frame in subtle, rhythmic pulses told Eric all he needed to know, another genuine Captain-rank powerhouse lounging on clerk duty.

Eric approached the polished counter and offered a respectful bow. "Excuse me, Elder. I’m looking to rent an Earth-grade cultivation manual. Do you have any available for checkout?"

The old man didn’t look up from his cedar carving, letting out a dry, raspy chuckle that stirred the wood shavings on the desk.

"Do we have it?" the elder snorted, blowing a curl of fragrant dust off the counter. "Boy, this is the Central Research Institution. We have sovereign Heaven-grade manuals resting in the deep vault, provided your pockets are deep enough to justify the unlock."

Eric’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes instantly glittering with sharp focus. "Heaven grade?! How much does it cost to rent a Heaven-grade manual?"

"Now, now, don’t go inflating your expectations, greenhorn," the old man drawled, finally lifting a pair of rheumy, hawk-sharp eyes to size Eric up.

"High-tier arts aren’t charity. Earth-grade High-rank manuals lease for 500 merit points a day. And a Low-rank Heaven-grade manual? That will run you a flat 1,000 merit points for a single twenty-four-hour checkout for study. You’re wearing a freshman crest, kid. Do you even possess that kind of capital, or are you just here to window-shop?"

Eric’s scalp tingled with a sharp, throbbing ache at the figures.

*A thousand merits... for a single twenty-four-hour study window?!* Eric cursed inwardly. *That’s my entire prize allocation from securing first place in the national theory exam! Wiped clean in a single transaction!*

Yet as painful as the price tag was, Eric didn’t hesitate for long.

Mundane, common-tier breathing techniques capped an awakened’s growth early, bottlenecking progression at the Soldier or early Captain ranks through impure, sluggish mana circulation. A Heaven-grade art, even an entry-level one was a monumental foundational pillar capable of supporting a tamer’s advancement all the way to Commander or Master rank.

The sooner he converted his raw liquid mana to a sovereign pathway, the faster his cultivation ceiling would shatter.

Eric squared his shoulders, tapping his silver identification card firmly against the brass reader.

"I’ll take a Low-rank Heaven-grade manual for one day."

The old man paused his whittling knife, a bushy silver brow arching in genuine surprise. "Oh? A freshman rolling in that kind of coin right out of the gate? Suit yourself, kid."

With a flick of the elder’s gnarled wrist, a massive holographic slate materialized in the air between them, displaying a classified directory of ancient martial scrolls.

"Take your pick, boy. What catches your eye?"

Eric scanned the glowing catalog, his heart hammering against his ribs. *Dozens of them...*

Filtering through esoteric techniques that required hyper-specific elemental affinities like lightning, glacial frost, or sacred solar light, two distinct options emerged from the list and seized his attention:

[Shadow Breathing Mantra]

Rank: Low-Heaven Grade

Properties:

- Guides the direct absorption of ambient shadow-mana into the core and meridians.

- Amplifies the potency and kinetic force of shadow-aspected skills by +50%.

- Innate Concealment: Passively masks personal mana signature and actively disguises true cultivation rank from foreign diagnostic appraisal.

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[Seven Star Mana Circulation Manual]

Rank: Low-Heaven Grade

Properties:

- Harmonizes with all natural elemental mana types, filtering raw energy through a 7-Cycle Purification Matrix.

- Cultivation & Absorption Speed: +100%

(Doubles overall cultivation efficiency and core refinement speed).

Eric stared at the two descriptions, his thoughts racing at breakneck speed.

The *Shadow Breathing Mantra* was an assassin’s dream. A flat 50% boost to shadow techniques would make his *Shadow Steps* virtually untouchable. More crucially, the passive cloaking function would prevent others from prying into his true stage, offering a priceless cloak of anonymity.

On the other hand, the *Seven Star Mana Circulation Manual* offered pure, unadulterated efficiency.

One hundred percent cultivation speed. It wasn’t flashy, and it lacked defensive cloaking gimmicks, but the macro implications were staggering. It meant every single day spent in meditation yielded the progress of two. A realm bottleneck that took an ordinary regional genius a full year of grueling effort to cross could be shattered in six months.

In a world where raw cultivation rank dictated authority, resource allocation, and baseline survival, doubling his foundational speed was an irreplaceable multiplier.

Eric stood before the glowing terminal for several long, silent minutes, weighing tactical stealth against raw progression velocity.

Finally, his dark eyes hardened with absolute, unwavering resolve.

"Elder," Eric pointed his finger toward the second selection, his voice low and firm. "I’ll take the Seven Star Mana Circulation Manual."

*PING.*

The counter terminal flashed an amber confirmation, instantly draining all 1,000 merit points from his institutional wallet, leaving his account sitting at an absolute flat zero.

"Contract verified," the old man grunted, leaning over his register. "Remember, kid: exactly twenty-four hours from this chime. A single minute past the deadline, and the campus enforcement will slap a fifty-merit late penalty on your file for every hour you hold it. No exceptions, no excuses."

The elder reached into a secure runic vault recessed into the counter, retrieving a heavy, leather-bound tome wrapped in shimmering silver wards. Its thick vellum pages hummed with ancient, condensed mana.

"Here. Take it, and do not let it leave your private quarters."

"Understood. Thank you, Elder."

Eric gripped the heavy codex with both hands, tucked it securely beneath the dark folds of his scholar’s coat, and turned on his heel. Moving swiftly, he hurried straight back to Dormitory Building 17, taking the stairs two at a time toward Room 401 to begin the twenty-four-hour race.