My Father Is a Confucian Saint, But the System Insists I Become a Crude Martial Artist

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Liangjiang Commandery.

At the Confucian academy.

A great scholar watched the students milling about in disorder and shouted furiously:

"What is there to be proud of? Have you even understood the books of the sages?"

"A genius like Zeng Anmin is still sitting at his desk, focused on his studies. What about you?!"

The students immediately fell silent.

The great scholar said coldly:

"The rankings for this academy examination have been decided."

"Zeng Anmin's essay took first place across all three commanderies. Its title was 'My Governor Father.'"

"You should all ask him to teach you a thing or two!"

The whole place instantly fell completely silent.

Everyone looked at Zeng Anmin.

Their expressions were strange and suggestive.

But Zeng Anmin had no time for them.

He was completely absorbed in his golden finger interface.

He stared at the cheats, the corner of his mouth twitching:

(Prismatic) Power Beyond: Your combat strength will always be one level above your martial realm.

(Prismatic) Ancestral Dragon Pact: Consume lifespan to raise your martial realm.

(Prismatic) Divine Artifact Forge: Obtain one martial artifact every eighty years. One is granted immediately.

(Gold) Martial Artist's Heart: For every zhang of distance between you and your target, the power of your martial aura increases by 9%.

"Bro, my father is a Confucian Sage! Why are you making me become some crude martial artist?!"