Forget it—time to buy a gift for Wifey No. 1 Mali and keep the marriage vibes strong!
Spikemuth Town.
Fashion Street.
Foot traffic? Sparse.
Jiang Feng poked around, scouring every shop, but found nada worth gifting.
He hit up the biggest store.
"Boss, I'll sketch a design—custom-make it for me!"
Money talks, and in the face of capitalist chaos, the boss nodded like a bobblehead.
Jiang Feng drew the blueprint, paid the deposit, and was about to bounce.
Then, a stunning teenage girl strolled in, clutching a haul of intimate apparel.
Panties, big-chest energy bras, thigh-highs…
Damn, she's wild!
And who's this? Erika, the one he just roasted.
Shopping for clothes too?
What a plot-mandated meet-cute.
"You—you creep! You're stalking me!"
This coincidence? Erika wasn't buying it.
Only one explanation: pervy dude tailing her!
Jiang Feng rolled his eyes. This chick's narcissism was next-level—thinking every guy's out to poke her?
Girl needs a reality check.
"Yo, red lace and black stockings? Tsk tsk, spicy black-and-red vibe—Erika's got unique taste!"
"Per Schrödinger's Meowth psychology, black's a rebellious hue, screaming 'defy fate, go all-in.'"
"Red? Passion, fire, desire. Combine 'em, and it means…"
"Means what?" Erika leaned in, curious despite herself.
Jiang Feng paused, smirking slyly. "Miss Erika, you're wild!"
Wild?! Erika flinched like he'd read her diary, stumbling back, face flaming, fuming.
"What nonsense! I'm not wild!"
"You're the wild one—your whole family's wild!"
This chick's acting—inner freak, outer ice queen.
Jiang Feng shrugged. "I read people like a Pokédex. Sky's half-known, earth's all mine!"
"Folks call me Jiang Half-Immortal!"
"People lie, attitudes fake, but ABC… D? Data don't lie!"
Good thing it's multiple-choice—my fave!
Quite the assets.
After some trolling, Jiang Feng strutted off, leaving no panties behind.
Erika stood there, red-faced, rage and shame on max.
Calling me wild?!
Is it that obvious?
And sniffing my panties like a perv?
That's harassment!
On the way, Jiang Feng peeked at the system.
Combusken's still salty, Proficiency ticking up steady.
Ding! Combusken raged thrice, Anger +177!
Anger +177!
Anger +77!
Jiang Feng nodded, pleased.
My dumb lil' bro, hate on, rage on!
With time to kill, he hit the school library to level up his brain.
Pokémon and humans have coexisted for millennia, so research is stacked.
Eevee's eight evolutions, Mega Evolution, Dynamax? Common knowledge.
His dream of publishing a paper for cash? Busted before it started.
Also, move Proficiency levels are well-documented.
Per the books:
Above Master is Perfect.
What's Perfect? Flawless!
A Perfect move is master-tier, the peak of what normies think a move can be.
Master-tier? Reachable. Decent Trainers have multiple Master moves, like Fatty Wei or Mali, whose Pokémon rock several. Combo them right, and their battle power skyrockets.
Perfect? A massive Proficiency grind and a brutal bottleneck. No one at school's hit it.
Most Pokémon die old without a single Perfect move.
But with a Trainer's coaching, resource stacks, and battle insights, growth's faster.
Among elite Trainers—think college pros or rich clans—Perfect moves aren't rare.
To be a true champ, Master moves won't cut it. Perfect moves trigger a qualitative leap, power spiking hard.
Even Elite Four aces are no different!
"What you reading?"
A fresh, natural lady scent hit him. Jiang Feng looked up—and was hard-locked for three minutes by a pair of shirt-busting peaks!
"Like what you see?"
"Love it—epic!" Jiang Feng wanted to double-tap those likes.
"Wanna touch?"
Kena's lips curved into a sly smile.
Jiang Feng nodded on instinct, then shook his head like a madman. "Touch? That's a 300-Poké fine—can't afford it!"
"Cheeky," Kena said, not mad, just casual. "Why've you been skipping class?"
Her tone wasn't scolding—more like a vibe check.
The great Teacher Kena was lowkey bummed. Of all her students, only Jiang Feng, her flirty fling, ditched class.
Normally, she wouldn't care.
But Jiang Feng's in Class 2.
And… this guy…
"Busy training," Jiang Feng said, waving his book. The library's thousands of titles were a mess—useless clutter.
"Maybe this suits you better." Kena conjured a book from thin air and handed it over.
"The Trainer's Self-Cultivation, Vol. 1?"
Jiang Feng flipped it open:
The heavens are unkind, treating all as straw dogs!
WTF?
High-tier vibes!
Wait… handwritten? Not printed?
"It's from a friend," Kena said. "Might help you."
"Keep it up—the world's fate's on you!"
Dropping a no-friend flex, Kena winked, spun, and sashayed off, her peach hips and black stockings bouncing lightly.
Just leaving?
No sky-dropping palm strike lesson?
Jiang Feng grumbled but flipped through. Beyond the pretentious first page, it was packed with Trainer insights and move-training tips.
Heavy on Water and Ice moves.
Even Perfect move methods!
Damn, Kena's friend's a Water-Ice master!
Too bad—his system makes secret manuals meh.
Jiang Feng dreamed big: one day, he'd stand atop the Pokémon world, shouting:
At the peak of 'mons, I reign supreme—where Jiang Feng stands, the heavens bow!