High Martial: Who Let Them Play Claw Machines?!

"Mom, Dad, this potion looks really expensive."

"No! It's just a knockoff. Our family is poor and can't afford the real thing."

"Mom, Dad, this cultivation method feels incredibly powerful. It must have cost a fortune, right?"

"It didn't cost a thing. It's been passed down in our family for generations, and it's not even that powerful. Just make do with it."

"Mom, Dad, this weapon is S-rank. That must make it really rare, right?"

"You don't understand, son. The ranks go from rare to common, A, B, C, D, and so on. Just think how far down the list S-rank must be!"

"Mom, Dad, I'm not exactly smart, but I'm not that stupid either!"

Born into poverty, Bai Yulou increasingly felt that something was off about his parents.

They kept saying the family was poor, but the precious potions they gave him never ran out.

Don't ask. They'd insist they'd sold everything they owned to get them, and that they were only high-quality knockoffs.

They were clearly just low-level martial artists, yet the cultivation method they gave him let him improve by leaps and bounds each day.

Don't ask. They'd insist it was an ancestral technique, and that his rapid progress was just a delusion caused by cultivation deviation.

The weapon they gave him was clearly S-rank, but they insisted it was F-rank, and that "S-rank" was just the brand name.

When he was little, Bai Yulou really believed them.

Then one day, an unstoppable calamity beast charged right at him.

He accidentally slapped it straight into a roll of steel.

Note: The author was once a poor student, so I won't make things up.