Chapter 53: Combination Techniques Are Not Anyone's Exclusive Domain

In the early morning, the alarm clock on the nightstand rang out. Zhuyue Han reached out, fumbling for a moment before successfully silencing it.

“How does Ash manage to throw his alarm clock as if it were a Poké Ball?” Zhuyue Han pushed his messy hair back and thought the clock shop owner in Pallet Town must really like Ash.

He’s definitely our biggest customer!

“But the real focus is still you.” Zhuyue Han picked up the bottle by his bedside, noticing that the scale marking the Lifedrop hadn’t changed at all.

“At least it’s been perfectly preserved for now.” He glanced at the timer on his phone. Since there was no change, he’d continue tracking the time and wait until the scale shifted.

“Good morning, Lapras. At least our future meal ticket is still stable for now.” If this were a stock, then the reusable potion was the kind that kept climbing with no sign of dropping.

“Laaa.” Lapras nuzzled his cheek, using its chin to help smooth out his unruly hair.

“I suddenly understand how Dawn uses Bubble Beam now.” After freshening up, Zhuyue Han prepared a pile of snacks for Lapras as usual, carefully carrying the bottle with him.

He didn’t feel safe leaving it in the dorm, but to monitor the effect of the bottle, he couldn’t just leave it hidden in his incense burner either.

Let Lapras help? Not a chance—if it got jostled, maybe nothing would happen, but who could say in other scenarios? If Lapras and the others played rough and someone fired off a Water Gun by accident, the bottle might well be lost forever.

Honestly, it felt like he was escorting an armored transport.

“Yesterday I dreamed everything looked like equations and symbols. Today everyone I see looks like a potential collision hazard.” Zhuyue Han found a spot where no one was around, took out pen and paper, and listened to the lecture.

In a standard research protocol, the potion bottle should be stored in the lab, monitored precisely with all sorts of instruments. But carrying it around was a better way to test its real-world performance; after all, doctors would be carrying it everywhere in the future.

So Zhuyue Han didn’t bother with complicated procedures—sometimes rough-and-ready methods best revealed the item’s true value.

Today’s class was actually quite interesting, focusing on how to cooperate with the local Officer Jenny while working at a Pokémon Center.

Just like what he’d seen at Slowpoke Well in Azalea Town.

Strictly speaking, Nurse Joy at the Center wasn’t obligated to help Officer Jenny deal with villains—unless, of course, they had a close relationship, or perhaps were like Brock, bewitched by older ladies.

The main principle was to act within one’s means; the professor didn’t encourage her precious students to take risks.

Nevertheless, since the Joy Academy taught battle skills, Officer Jenny considered her colleagues to possess above-average combat capabilities.

If the town had no Gym Leader, Jenny would much rather call on a Joy for help than try to find an official Trainer at the League’s administration hall.

“I know you all admire, even revere, the Dean’s approach, and the same goes for your understanding of battle class,” the teacher said gravely. “But remember—when assisting Officer Jenny, you must follow procedures and ask about the details in advance.”

Helping manage petty troublemakers and confronting members of Team Dark are two entirely different levels. The first might just require healing, while the latter almost certainly meant battling alongside your partner.

The rest of the class covered routine cooperation, such as what to do if a criminal and their Pokémon got burned by an Arcanine’s Flamethrower.

Zhuyue Han thought, what’s there to consider? Heal the Pokémon right away; as for the criminal, let fate decide.

But unfortunately, proper procedure did not allow this. And it wasn’t something you could just send to a regular hospital, either, so after Officer Jenny performed emergency measures, she’d always bring them to the Pokémon Center.

How much to heal was a matter of judgment. All Officer Jenny cared about was that the criminal survived to face interrogation—nothing more.

Zhuyue Han raised an eyebrow, sensing a lot of leeway in those words. Wasn’t this just like the ancient jailers who skimmed a little extra for themselves?

Heal halfway, and it still counted as healing.

Aside from “injury treatment,” there was also the quarterly physical exam—mandated by the League, requiring Officer Jenny’s staff to be checked regularly, because only a healthy body could uphold the law.

And if the region hosted a Contest or a Fishing Tournament, Joy might be invited as a special guest—troublesome, but part of the job, like it or not.

Halfway through, Zhuyue Han realized he’d been too optimistic—this class really had nothing of interest for him. At least the beginning touched on points he cared about, but the rest was just bureaucratic routine.

Classic official banter.

“You’re still more interesting, after all.” Zhuyue Han smiled, gazing at his potion bottle. Even the still liquid inside seemed to possess an irresistible allure.

Days passed, and the time allotted for Zhuyue Han’s research lab was nearly up.

But that no longer mattered.

Zhuyue Han had already submitted his leave request a day in advance and now, together with Lapras, entered the Dean’s office.

“Dean, I have a business proposition for you.”

Joy Jing: Hm?

“Do you still need to use that research lab? I heard from the staff that you haven’t conducted any resource-consuming experiments these past few days.”

“That’s because the final product is ready.” Zhuyue Han placed the bottle on Joy Jing’s desk, showing that the Lifedrop inside was perfectly preserved.

“This is my research result: the reusable potion. Or, more precisely, the bottle itself is the achievement.”

Zhuyue Han had no patience for playing the skeptic-and-astonished routine; he got straight to the point.

Once the deal was struck, there’d be a windfall of money and resources—there was no time to waste on anything else.

I’m not short of money, but I love money!

“This bottle can store Lifedrops. As of now, there are two and a half hours left before it passes the one-week preservation mark with zero loss.”

“Of course, to extend the preservation time further, a charging device would be needed.”

Joy Jing: What?

“The liquid inside—are those Lifedrops condensed?”

“Yes, Lapras condensed them. Dean, you can have your Blissey examine it.”

Zhuyue Han shrugged. “All the relevant experimental data is saved on a disk, kept in my incense burner.”

Joy Jing promptly raised her hand, and Blissey landed beside Zhuyue Han, delicately picking up the bottle and opening it for a sniff.

“Bliss!”

It was genuine!

Joy Jing was stunned. “It’s real—how universal is it?”

“As long as it’s a Lifedrop, it works. No matter whose it is.”

Zhuyue Han added, “Of course, it’s best if each bottle’s Lifedrops come from similar Pokémon. Mixing good and average quality might reduce the effect.”

Joy Jing nodded at Blissey, who drank the Lifedrop in one gulp, then carefully set the bottle down.

“Yue Han, cover your ears.”

Joy Jing could barely contain her excitement. “Blissey, use Heal Bell.”

As the song began, Zhuyue Han, hearing the first note, immediately took out his energy berry stick.

Singing combined with Lifedrop—a move like that must be the Pokémon world’s version of anesthesia, and one with healing properties at that.

But some perceptions would have to change.

Whether it was Abby’s understanding of Megahorn, or the combination of Mightyena’s Howl and Roar during battle exams, all were examples of deep move development.

Now, with Blissey’s Heal Bell, it was clear: advanced move development was the hallmark of the strong, not just the privilege of the chosen few.

There could be many powerful Trainers in the world, but not many true protagonists.

In short, never underestimate the world.

Just because you devised some advanced combination doesn’t mean you’re invincible or that no one else can recreate your results.

At least from the cases he’d seen, there were surely others capable of such feats.

Zhuyue Han’s expression grew a little strange.

Following this logic, he suddenly realized that Trainers like Zhiba or A-Si, who specialized in Fighting types, might be even more formidable than he’d thought.

Thunder Punch, Fire Punch, Ice Punch—moves jokingly called the “Farmer’s Trio.”

The advantage was obvious: decent power and wide coverage.

According to his previous thinking, one would only use a single type for a finishing move.

But now, someone like Zhiba’s Hitmonchan might have trained with its partner to an uncanny level.

Take Machamp, a famous Fighting type, who can learn all three punches. The first attack might be Ice Punch, the second Fire Punch, and the third? Maybe Thunder Punch—or maybe another Ice or Fire Punch, depending on the flow.

If you lacked the reflexes and combat instincts to match, Trainer or Pokémon, you’d be completely overwhelmed.

And, as it happened, Trainers of Zhiba’s caliber were hardly common.

The Pokémon they raised were no pushovers either.

Once mastered and paired with Machamp’s incredible attack speed, the result would be a display of explosive, movie-worthy special effects.

Such a move was no longer a mere combination, but could be trained using a step-by-step approach: starting with two-type switches in a fixed order, then progressing to three.

The ultimate goal would be to rapidly and randomly switch among three attack types, unleashing a barrage so unpredictable that the enemy couldn’t anticipate the next move.

Judging by the color of the attack? Sure, maybe the top-tier Psychic types could manage it.

He chose Fighting types as an example because he knew how they trained.

Signature moves were one thing; martial arts technique was another.

Expecting others to master their unique footwork and stances was unrealistic.

In this aspect, Psychic types did have an advantage, but not an absolute one.