Climbing the Tower with Multidimensional Avatars - Chapter 45

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 45. Galaxy Martial God Hall – Android Teacher (4)

Riven nodded at Kim Do-hwa’s warning-tinged notification.
-Understood. That’s unavoidable. Is that all you needed from me?
“Yes, that’s all.”
-Then I’ll be going.
As Riven vanished, Kim Do-hwa jotted down “Cheon Ji-woo counseling” in the student guidance log and reviewed the records from her martial arts classes.
Twenty-one children who had progressed beyond merely establishing their dantian and could actually harness inner energy.
Among them, only three were classified as possessing the highest aptitude and genius-level talent.
Attendance number 2, Cheon Gong-hu; number 9, Cheon So-yeon; and number 18, Cheon Ha-sung.
Looking at their records, most ranked in the upper tier, and even so, I could sense an immense latent potential that had yet to fully mature.
Beyond the three geniuses, the records of ten children classified as prodigies in terms of aptitude evaluation were also respectable.
Among the prodigies, some children’s physical fitness test results remained in the lower ranks, but that was either because they hadn’t received proper training before enrollment or because they’d focused solely on inner energy cultivation.
A common misconception people held was that inner energy cultivation determined everything about a martial artist.
However, that was only true for those who had reached the distant realm of Hwagyeong and beyond.
For martial artists below the supreme peak, physical ability was far more important than inner energy.
Taken to extremes, even at the same realm, a master of external energy who had trained their body to its absolute limits could easily defeat a master of inner energy cultivation who had neglected their physical body, even if that inner energy master possessed only an ant’s worth of inner power.
Schools existed precisely to help children who failed to bloom due to such misconceptions, so Kim Do-hwa devised individual training plans for each student based on their physical fitness measurements.
After reviewing the seven children classified as ordinary in aptitude evaluation, she finally examined the records of Cheon Ji-woo, the only student in Class 1 who had received a low aptitude evaluation and been classified as dull-witted.
Upon seeing the records, Kim Do-hwa could only marvel.
“Remarkable. To achieve this level of results with such aptitude.”
I could imagine how much bone-grinding effort Cheon Ji-woo must have invested, and what efforts his master must have made for this dull-witted student.
He must have repeated grueling training and relentless drilling day after day—the kind that a child his age would find nearly unbearable.
From my assessment, Cheon Ji-woo was in the midst of a massive foundational reconstruction, grinding away his innately inferior aptitude.
“I should guide Cheon Ji-woo to receive a separate curriculum from his master and follow it precisely.”
This enormous foundational work was envisioned so far ahead that I couldn’t dare evaluate it hastily, nor could I presume to interfere with it.
“Given this level, it makes sense that with such aptitude, he’d reach the second-rate realm at his age.”
Though grouped in the same Class 1, the students showed considerable variation in their realms.
Currently, only four students had reached the second-rate realm.
Cheon Ji-woo, the sole dull-witted student in Class 1, and the three geniuses.
The remaining students either remained blocked by the second-rate wall or had only recently reached the third-rate realm.
I thought one or two might break through the second-rate barrier this semester, but for Cheon Ji-woo to have reached the second-rate realm before enrollment with such aptitude was nothing short of a hymn to human perseverance.
Kim Do-hwa completed her preliminary training plan with Cheon Ji-woo as the final entry.

* * *

A week had passed since my enrollment.
During that time, I’d had a meeting with Kim Do-hwa regarding my grueling sixteen-period daily schedule, along with various other matters.
After about a week, the students in my class had grown closer to one another and begun forming small groups.
Class 1 had divided into three major factions.
The first group consisted of seven students centered around number eighteen, Cheon Ha-sung, who had demonstrated exceptional prowess during afternoon classes—the so-called Cheon Ha-sung faction.
While they weren’t delinquents per se, their outgoing nature meant they caused minor incidents during breaks, running about and creating small disturbances.
These “incidents” amounted to things like breaking windows during ball games or sustaining minor injuries while roughhousing.
The second group consisted of five students centered around number eleven, Cheon A-ryeong.
Rather than gathering to do something specific, it was simply a natural congregation of girls.
I’d expected number one, Cheon Ga-ryeong, to be at the center of the girls, but it was surprising. Perhaps it was because she spent every moment with Cheon Gong-hu?
The Cheon A-ryeong faction was usually quiet, occasionally engaging in subtle tension when the boys’ group became rowdy.
Rather than disliking each other, they seemed uncertain how to interact with the opposite sex for the first time, though it felt like they could easily escalate into serious conflict.
Well, Kim Do-hwa would handle that herself.
The third group consisted of five students total—two boys and three girls—centered around number twenty-one, Cheon Hu-geon, who possessed excellent social skills.
While young children typically don’t mix genders easily, three of these five had known each other before enrollment, so the group formed naturally.
Perhaps because of the mixed genders, they weren’t as boisterous as the Cheon Ha-sung faction, but neither were they as subdued as the Cheon A-ryeong faction.
Including myself and four other children who didn’t particularly belong to any group and went around alone or in pairs, it might be fair to say there were four factions in total.
Of course, grouping those five of us together seemed inappropriate given how different our individual temperaments were.
Number one, Cheon Ga-ryeong, was a hyperactive social butterfly who moved about with the introverted Cheon Gong-hu and got along well with all the students in the class, while Cheon So-yeon and I were outsiders who observed from an adult perspective without mingling with the other children.
Honestly, as long as they left me alone, I didn’t care whether the kids got along or fought among themselves.
Truthfully, there was no guarantee these groups would persist. Children were prone to taking offense over trivial matters.
And as we advanced grades, students from Class 2 and Class 3 who properly entered martial arts training would reach third-rate status, causing classes to be reshuffled.
Probably by third grade at the latest, even Class 4—which had struggled to absorb the spiritual medicine—would reach third-rate status.
Before enrollment, there had been no one to help with spiritual medicine absorption, but now the teachers in each class could perform genuine qi circulation, making absorption much easier.
When that time came, these factions would become nothing but a fleeting memory.
“Now then, it’s time for morning classes. Everyone, take your seats and begin the lesson with Riven.”
At Kim Do-hwa’s words, everyone took their seats.
I also logged into Virtual Reality after chatting with Cheon So-yeon.
“Today’s class is short?”
Checking today’s schedule, I saw there were only twelve periods.
More precisely, the fourth period—periods thirteen through sixteen—was a whole-class collaborative lesson designed to foster social skills, which was why the instruction time was shorter.
Group sessions didn’t employ time acceleration.
Riven smiled and spoke.
“Don’t feel disappointed that today’s class is short. Building friendships with classmates will be an important lesson for you as well, Cheon Ji-woo.”
No matter how personalized the morning classes were, the school’s overall curriculum took priority.
“What? Who’s disappointed? No matter how entertaining the classes are, sixteen periods a day is absolutely insane.”
“Hehe, how dishonest of you. Well, don’t worry. I’m a teacher who knows how to be understanding about such things.”
What was wrong with this crazy android?
Of course, it wasn’t a waste of time, and the classes were genuinely interesting and engaging, so I’d keep attending. But still, shouldn’t the class hours be reduced somewhat?
Riven sighed and spoke.
“Cheon Ji-woo. I have some unfortunate news. In fact, there was a faculty meeting yesterday that included your guardian, Siu.”
Siu attended the meeting yesterday?
Now that I think about it, Kim Do-hwa was absent during second period break yesterday.
The faculty meeting must have taken place around that time.
Siu didn’t mention anything about it though.
“Unfortunately, due to opposition from several narrow-minded teachers, your class hours will be reduced, contrary to your wishes.”
“So there are some sensible teachers at this school after all?”
At my unexpected response, Riven looked at me as if wounded.
“Cheon Ji-woo. Time is precious. I find it regrettable that your time is being wasted due to adults’ pathetic concerns, and it hurts to hear you say such things.”
“Cramming information into your head isn’t everything. You need time to properly digest the material as well.”
In the end, the time acceleration was reduced from 4x to 3x, cutting your classes from 16 periods to 12 periods.
However, Riven looked at me and said it could return to 16 periods if I didn’t have any particular complaints.
“Let’s save that for when I’m older. Everything has an appropriate age, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose I was indeed a bit too hasty. From my perspective, organic lifeforms like you seemed to live such fleeting lives.”
Androids were essentially immortal as long as the region called the ‘Singularity Zone’ wasn’t damaged.
Much like how humans perceive a hamster’s lifespan as impossibly short.
But even so, 16 periods was absolutely insane.
“Well then, shall we begin class?”
Riven’s lessons were genuinely fascinating.
Of course, the difficulty made my head feel like it might explode.

* * *

Morning classes ended, and it was time for Kim Do-hwa’s martial arts instruction.
“Every year I notice the same thing—the new students’ physical conditioning is abysmal. Without proper bodily strength, you won’t be able to tap into your true potential.”
Kim Do-hwa explained that the body was more important than inner energy in terms even an elementary school child could understand, but only Siu and I seemed to grasp it.
Even Cheon Ha-sung, who was at the same second-rate level as Siu and me, questioned whether inner energy wasn’t more important.
“Doesn’t stronger inner energy mean we can enhance ourselves to a greater degree?”
“No, it doesn’t. Look at the screen carefully. I’ve created a graph to make the enhancement values proportional to muscle growth rate and compression rate easy to understand.”
Kim Do-hwa, frustrated that her verbal explanation hadn’t sufficed despite her efforts to keep it simple, pulled out a graph.
But her audience was mostly children just learning basic arithmetic.
More than half of them didn’t even know how to read a graph.
The ones who could read graphs were the ones who’d done advanced studying before enrolling.
After all, “Tables and Graphs” was a second-grade elementary curriculum unit.
Well aware of this fact, Kim Do-hwa didn’t expect the students to understand.
She simply chose to use her authority to suppress them into accepting that she was speaking difficult concepts—to make them think, “Oh, I see,” and move on without questioning.
That choice was the right one.
Most children at elementary school age simply accept it when an adult says something is so, without thinking for themselves or raising objections.
In that respect, Cheon Ha-sung showed promise by asking whether inner energy might be better.
It meant he could think for himself.
In the end, Kim Do-hwa forced each student into physical training tailored to them rather than inner energy cultivation.
Naturally, using inner energy wouldn’t help with strength training, so the assistant teachers sealed acupoints to prevent the students from drawing on their inner energy.
Even adults often unconsciously use inner energy when things get difficult, so there was no way to trust children’s willpower.
“For at least one month, you’ll be building your bodies without using inner energy.”
At Kim Do-hwa’s words, the children started whispering among themselves.
“What’s a month?”
“Dummy, a month is a month. You don’t even know that?”
Neither the child asking nor the one answering had any clear concept of dates.
This was Riven’s fault.
Kim Do-hwa, accustomed to it, delegated all questions unrelated to the actual instruction to the assistant teachers.
“Whimper, my stomach feels tight.”
“Why can’t we use inner energy? I want to use it.”
“Teacher! Teacher!”
I understood why they’d assigned four assistant teachers.
If I were the instructor, I might have gone mad.
I sympathized with the teachers and participated in class obediently.
But the physical training I was doing seemed oddly familiar.
It was just like the training Siu put me through—or was I imagining things?

(To be continued in the next chapter)

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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