Chapter Three: The Proud Dragon Seeker

That night, after his “consultation,” Zhu Suihan sat down in front of the computer and began to operate it.

The process had its benefits; whatever Zhu Suihan searched for later wouldn’t arouse any suspicion about his identity—a rather convenient setup.

The computer lab wasn’t large, but for Dragonite, it was just a bit cramped. After finishing her meal, the whiny creature followed Zhu Suihan and stuck by his side.

“Hmm, not bad specs.”

Zhu Suihan was a little surprised. He’d thought the era’s “bricks” wouldn’t be up to much, but this was probably another one of those Pokémon world’s magically modified models. The design might be limited by the times, but the core was a different story. It looked like a brick, but inside was a cutting-edge, research-grade machine.

He grabbed a handful of Pokémon snacks and, without even glancing at the screen, habitually searched for a game icon to relax. Only when his eyes landed on the huge red and white Poké Ball on the desktop did he pause.

Right, things weren’t the same as before.

“So, let’s look up some information first?”

Zhu Suihan decided to check out Professor Liu’s study materials, only to find they were mostly videos of gym battles—probably internal league work content.

After watching a few standard real-world battles, Zhu Suihan frowned. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand the tactics, but he could see some very obvious distinctions from the games.

A simple example: critical hits.

In the games, these are a matter of probability, but in reality, it’s different.

Say, in a wild battle, Passerby A sends out a Rattata, and Passerby B sends out a Pikachu. Passerby B uses Tackle as a greeting. If their strengths are similar, Pikachu lands the first hit, but the purple rat quickly finds an opening and tackles back.

This time, the tackle lands right on Pikachu’s cheek pouches—the electric sacs.

Wouldn’t that count as a critical hit?

A Pokémon’s vital spots might differ from a human’s, but there’s a logic to it. Pikachu’s electric sacs, Dragonair’s weather orb, Ralts’ emotion-sensing horn—each has its own vulnerabilities.

But if you focus solely on hitting vital spots in battle, it’s like those monster hunters who only aim for breaking parts, and your chances of failure skyrocket.

As for targeting the head, it depends. Hit a Doduo on one head, and if the opponent’s Pokémon taunts it, maybe the two heads will start fighting each other. But with Exeggutor… well, who knows?

Zhu Suihan slapped his forehead.

And then there’s Alolan Exeggutor…

Name a Pokémon that can breathe fire, fly, has wings, looks like a dragon, is beloved by the team—does it have the Dragon type?

In another universe, if it weren’t a dragon, fans would be furious.

“Oh well, no need to dwell on it. It does become a dragon after mega evolution.”

Zhu Suihan started typing away. He’d seen enough battles—time for something different.

He didn’t understand battling that well, but that didn’t mean he was clueless about “scientific frontiers.”

Whether he’d become a wealthy thief of the future depended on this moment!

With a decisive press of the Enter key, Zhu Suihan fell silent, opting instead to return to the battle videos for entertainment, grabbing some snacks to ease his disappointment.

Alright, no need to look further.

Eevee’s forms, friendship levels, mega evolution—even a report on Alola’s natural energy was there. Z-moves couldn’t be far off.

This was the research computer lab of the Kagi Gym. Some things were clearly connected to internal networks—the true scientific front lines.

A host of familiar terms had already appeared in published research reports. His dream of being a time-traveling thief was dashed.

Whatever the League had in mind, it was only a matter of time before these achievements were made public.

As for Dynamax and Terastallization, for this era, gym-level access had its limits. If Professor Liu wanted to know more, he’d have to ask in person.

“Right, what year is it, anyway? Forgot to ask Professor Oak.”

Zhu Suihan searched for the League Conference and found the latest Indigo League champion was someone he didn’t recognize—but had defeated the Elite Four and the champion to take the crown.

Zhu Suihan smiled. If he couldn’t find reliable news, why not check the tabloids?

Soon, he found a piece titled “The Grandson of Professor Oak! The Genius Continues!” The look and attire—one glance was enough to identify him as Green, the shortest-reigning Indigo League champion.

Just as he’d settled into the champion’s seat and was about to reward his followers, Red stormed in and unseated him before the chair even warmed.

But who were those two kids behind him?

Zhu Suihan zoomed in on the photo, eyeing the two small figures behind Green.

Though a bit blurry—and one was covered in dirt—the hairstyle and features were unmistakable…

Zhu Suihan’s DNA tingled.

Turtles! Not only were Green and Red there, but also Gary and Ash, those two infamous troublemakers!

Leaving Red and Ash aside for now, counting Researcher Daisy Oak, that made three siblings—Green was the middle child?

Zhu Suihan clicked his tongue and closed the tabloid.

Well then.

Green, Blue, the shortest-reigning Indigo champion, was now officially confirmed as the perennial second place.

With an older sister above and a younger brother below, he was doomed to be the middle child, with no room for denial.

“Lapras,”

Lapras nudged Zhu Suihan, then pointed her head at the battle videos folder.

“You want to watch battles?”

Zhu Suihan was puzzled. “You’re interested in these?”

For someone as pure and gentle as Lapras to like battling was a bit off-brand.

Lapras shook her head firmly, nudging Zhu Suihan’s arm to move the mouse and hovering the cursor over a video.

She raised her head with a self-satisfied, proud smile.

Zhu Suihan: …?

He seemed to understand.

He clicked open the video—

“Lapras, use Ice Beam!”

Professor Liu’s cold, commanding voice sounded. In the video, Lapras unleashed a beam of blue-white ice, instantly knocking out the opposing Phanpy.

Phanpy was challenging the Kagi Gym—a newbie from a nearby city, probably not much of a threat.

Zhu Suihan stroked Lapras’ neck with a smile. “Yes, yes, you’re amazing.”

“Lapras!” She raised her head again—anyone else might think she was about to bump the ceiling lamp.

“Are there more of your battle videos?”

Zhu Suihan began searching. The videos were sorted by date, but didn’t list which Pokémon the Gym Leader used, so he had to look through them one by one.

Lapras suddenly fell silent.

“You don’t remember? That’s understandable. Who remembers every ordinary workday?”

“Let me see… This record-keeping is a bit sloppy. At least list the team roster.”

“Lapras!”

She suddenly half-stood, scooping Zhu Suihan—chair and all—into her embrace, her back flippers working hard to shuffle toward the lab door.

Her message was clear: No peeking!

“Hey, hey, don’t fuss.”

Zhu Suihan suddenly understood her, and with a dying effort before his hand left the mouse, he clicked open another video.

“Let’s burn with passion, Ampharos! Use Thunder!”

Boom!

After the deafening crash, the flag unfurled with a crisp “whoosh.”

“Lapras is unable to battle. All of the Gym’s Pokémon are unable to battle. The challenger wins!”

Lapras: ……

Zhu Suihan basked in the glow of victory.

Lapras rested her big head on Zhu Suihan’s shoulder.

Aggrieved, seeking comfort.

“There, there. Victory and defeat are common in battle—it’s normal to win some and lose some.”

Zhu Suihan consoled her, “Thunder really is your weakness. Next time you face an opponent like that, you’ll have to be careful.”

He moved the chair back and rewound the video to the scene before Ampharos used Thunder.

Ampharos—if memory served, it too had a Mega Evolution slot and was, by definition, an electric dragon, fundamentally different from Charizard.

“See? Next time you meet an enemy like this, just pay attention to a few things.”

Zhu Suihan stood and put his arm around Lapras’ neck. “Especially with these hot-blooded types—they won’t try any tricks.”

“The moment you notice Ampharos’ forehead gem glowing, be alert—that’s when it’s charging up for its ultimate move.”

He fast-forwarded the video. “Just like the move that took you out.”

Lapras nudged him gently, finding this firsthand commentary a little too embarrassing.

“Detecting threatening levels of elemental energy isn’t something I need to teach you.”

Zhu Suihan continued, “And as for Ampharos’ trainer, he gives a long-winded speech before giving the command—you’ll have a bit more time to react.”

The shortest commands can just be the move’s name, or they might include a target or timing, but most are the long-winded kind, only stating the move at the end.

Personal style, though—who was he to judge?

If it were Zhu Suihan in charge, his commands would be brief and to the point. Only after the referee declared victory would he raise his hands in celebration, shouting, “This is our bond!”

Popping champagne in the middle of the match—absolutely out of the question.

Wait, Professor Liu hadn’t taught this little one how to battle?

Zhu Suihan was puzzled. “By the way, do you train regularly?”

Lapras shook her head, stretched her neck forward a bit, and raised her front flippers, playing the part of a little seal.

Zhu Suihan pondered.

Pokémon truly were wondrous creatures. They could understand human speech, but the reverse wasn’t true.

The world’s treasures, indeed.

So Lapras only joined battles for fun, not because she loved fighting. Of course, that was also because she was strong enough—otherwise, Professor Liu wouldn’t allow her to treat work so lightly.

No systematic training, only joining in for fun, watching only her victories in battle videos, avoiding the defeats.

A bit childish, but endearing.

Compared to the tough Pokémon around Professor Liu, Lapras was like a second-generation who could choose her own life, with no pressure.

“Interesting.”

Night deepened. Lapras fell asleep with her eyes closed, while Zhu Suihan, still full of energy, tapped away at the keyboard, absorbing knowledge. He had never felt so invigorated.

“Uh, feels like I forgot something…”

If it was just battle videos, it was like being a cloud player—enjoyable enough.

Zhu Suihan thought for a moment, and then, with a flash of inspiration, a storage box fell out of nowhere.

He realized he still hadn’t opened his golden finger, had he?