Chapter Eighty-Five: The Brute Strength of the Mischievous Child

Bandit! He’s definitely a bandit!

A habitual offender, without a doubt!

Zhu Suihan’s mouth twitched uncontrollably. No wonder the King Carp was curled up motionless—after all this time, it turned out he was practicing stealth! What a sneaky move! Judging by the precision of his timing and his calmness after grabbing the berry, this was clearly not his first time. He wasn’t flustered at all, just slipped away like a seasoned pro.

It was reminiscent of those virtuous, quick-to-get-rich citizens in the harmonious metropolis of Los Santos. Even in this ancient era, this King Carp couldn’t possibly represent the average standard—at the very least, he was the local bully of these waters.

Zhu Suihan steadied his mind. Though the King Carp might not be typical, the abilities he displayed were a delightful surprise. Exceptional jumping skills, and he could hit the Staraptor with Water Gun while airborne. When amputating the Kingler’s claw, he unleashed a force akin to a headlong charge—Zhu Suihan felt only a fleeting pain.

Power aside, it proved that King Carp could master a variety of moves even in ancient times. But did this bandit’s tricks have any practical value? Judging by his skillset, Zhu Suihan hadn’t noticed anything that distinguished him from modern King Carp.

The crunching sounds continued, as King Carp devoured Kingler’s claw—meat and bone alike, chewing and swallowing it all. Excellent—he had teeth, and strong ones at that, at least enough to grind crab bones to nothing.

Zhu Suihan quietly noted these traits. This little film had given him many surprises, though some were rather mysterious and lacked even a hint of an answer key.

After his meal, King Carp shook himself, shedding the powder clinging to his body, and cautiously scanned his surroundings before swimming off in another direction.

Off to sleep, it seemed~

Really? He separates his sleeping quarters from his dining area—already grasping the wisdom of a cunning rabbit with three burrows, all without a teacher. No wonder he thrives so freely in the wild—it takes a bandit to live like this.

King Carp arrived at a waterway, where the roar of water echoed constantly. Not far off, the surface churned violently, the waterfall above sending torrents crashing down and throwing the area into chaos.

“A waterfall—could it be deep in the mountains, or just a quirk of the terrain?”

King Carp twisted left and right skillfully, sometimes using the force of the falling water to propel himself, slipping into a cave behind the waterfall.

How comfortable!

Zhu Suihan fell silent. Not only was he a bandit, he had a Water Curtain Cave as his resting place—no wonder he reached such heights. But this spot really was exclusive to him. With a headstrong charge that could knock Kingler senseless, King Carp had the confidence to pass through the waterfall—other Pokémon likely wouldn’t dare approach.

Buzz—

The scene blurred again, and after a brief adjustment, Zhu Suihan’s perspective returned to reality. The television was still broadcasting the standard battle Little Fairy Milk liked to watch, though now the match had entered a fever pitch.

“Hmm?”

Lapras nudged Zhu Suihan, wondering if her trainer had suddenly found battle fascinating.

Don’t even think about it—standard battles aren’t for you, too restrictive.

“It’s nothing. I just remembered something, so it looked like I was staring at the screen.”

Zhu Suihan rubbed his brow, suddenly realizing a major flaw in this style of knowledge transfer. No way to cast it to a screen—even with Porygon and Rotom helping, it changed nothing.

All the relevant data was in his mind. Unless he could use psychic powers to extract this memory and upload it into a Pokémon like Porygon, there was no way to replay it repeatedly.

Forget it—too much trouble. No way he’d let a psychic point at his head for this; far too risky. He’d never do such a thing.

He took up his notebook and jotted down his impressions of becoming King Carp.

First: The body is robust, just as tough as modern King Carp.
Second: Can use a variety of moves—not just the pathetic Splash.
Third: High intelligence.

Zhu Suihan marked the third point as important. To him, this was the most crucial. Even if he couldn’t see clearly, the bandit fish’s gaze was surely nothing like the vacant look of other King Carp. Perhaps both their eyes were made by the same manufacturer as Slowpoke’s.

But that jumping ability—what was that about? Such height—Gyarados could manage it, but King Carp?

Zhu Suihan recalled an episode from the journey, where Ash trained a King Carp into an eight-pack muscle monster, looking more like a Machamp. Best not to dwell on it—too disturbing.

He’d thought Sun and Moon’s exaggerated expressions were the peak, but that muscular body paired with a boyish face was even more unsettling.

Enough—time to sleep. Tomorrow, he’d seek out Gyarados and see if he could recruit a few offspring for research.

There’s one thing that never changes for students: attending class, then competing with classmates in the ever-escalating academic grind.

Today was another hands-on medical session, but only a few had been granted the qualification to treat patients—Zhu Suihan among them.

“Strange, why did they remind us to be extra careful on the way over?”

Upon arrival, Zhu Suihan understood. All the patients were Fighting-type Pokémon, and the students chosen for treatment were those with top marks in sports and battle courses.

Machop, Machoke, Primeape, as well as Heracross and Frogadier.

“They all live in the back hills. You may choose your patient, but be careful not to injure yourselves,” the teacher instructed. “The Fighting-types in the back hills regularly hold tournaments. Some are winners, others losers, but here they’re all wounded.”

Zhu Suihan glanced at the Heracross whose horn ended in a heart shape, remembering the one who acted with him in Azalea Town. This Heracross was female—the heart-shaped horn tip was proof enough.

“I’ll take Machoke. The rest are yours. Is this division okay?” Zhu Suihan declared.

Primeape looked burned out, not a threat anymore, but Machoke was still in decent shape.

The others eyed the muscular figure and thanked Zhu Suihan for his goodwill. He was tough enough to wrestle Pokémon hand-to-hand, so having him handle Machoke—the most intimidating—was a relief.

Though he kept to himself, they could tell Zhu Suihan wasn’t hard to get along with.

In school—especially at Joy Academy, which was much like a university—few paid attention to solitary students, since everyone had their own circles. Except when group projects required extra hands.

Why keep to himself? Perhaps because he spent so much time grinding for top marks, he had no energy for anything else.

Speaking of which, his classmates suddenly felt the pressure—if they didn’t try harder, Zhu Suihan might single-handedly dominate the whole grade.

“You look like you won your tournament, right?” Zhu Suihan asked Machoke as he approached, using the opportunity to assess his condition.

Hmm, mostly superficial wounds, but he’d been sitting in the same spot for ages—probably twisted something. Judging by Machoke’s proud gaze, he hardly seemed shy or timid.

“Machoke!” Machoke raised his right arm and shouted powerfully.

Victory!

I’m not injured at all!

Zhu Suihan ignored the latter claim. If patients always behaved, the term “concealing illness and shunning treatment” wouldn’t exist.

Only the right arm lifted, so the serious injury must be in the left.

Sensing Zhu Suihan’s approach, Machoke tensed, but relaxed when he saw no strange instruments in his hands.

A gentle poke—Machoke smirked disdainfully, lips curling, like a dragon king with a crooked grin.

Another poke—Machoke’s brow furrowed, and he grunted.

Zhu Suihan poked again, and Machoke flushed red, finally giving two muffled sounds through clenched teeth.

Clearly, he was struggling to endure.

“Hmm, bones are fine, just a muscle strain—easy to treat.”

Zhu Suihan fetched the medical kit. “Let’s apply some medicine, spray your superficial wounds, then a little Life Dew and you’ll be good.”

“Machoke!” I’m not injured!

Zhu Suihan: ?

He realized—Machoke’s behavior was like a child with a sore throat, whose parents forbid him sweets because of coughing. The child tries desperately not to cough, not realizing that the effort is just as conspicuous.

“You, I bet your family made you come for treatment, didn’t they?”

Machoke: ?

Can this guy read minds?

“Machoke!” Anyway, I refuse treatment!

“You don’t have a choice.”

Zhu Suihan pressed Machoke’s healthy right shoulder, gently applying pressure while his other hand started spraying medicine.

?

Machoke was stunned, then tried to resist, but froze in place. His left arm was immobile, and his right shoulder pinned—he could do nothing but shake his legs.

Forget refusing those embarrassing moves—he could barely move his waist, which showed just how much force the doctor used.

“Machoke!” I’ll never accept this kind of battle!

“Oh, stop fussing. Injured patients need to act like it, understand?”

Zhu Suihan released him. “I’ll give you a chance—let’s see your grip strength. If you beat me, you don’t have to be treated, and I won’t let anyone else treat you either.”

“Machoke!” Bring it on!

Machoke, full of defiance, clasped Zhu Suihan’s hand. As a master of martial arts, his technique was far beyond any ordinary human.

Twenty seconds later—

Zhu Suihan had the leisure to scratch his head. “Come on, give it your best. I don’t feel a thing. Are you really Machoke, the Pokémon famed for fighting and physical strength?”