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They returned home with a full haul.
In the end, Yin Li (Mrs. Yin) indulged Torracat's wishes, buying it both an Incineroar-themed onesie and a Pyroar-themed one.
One cat, two sets of pajamas—Torracat was practically glowing with pride.
It wasn't that it disliked the one Li Xiang had picked out—it just wanted everything.
And the generous Mrs. Yin made sure the little fire cat got exactly that.
"If only you were this enthusiastic about leveling up."
Li Xiang ruffled Torracat's head, ignoring whether the cat actually liked it or not.
Gotta take every chance to pet it now—once it evolves into Incineroar, who knows who'll be petting whom?
"Meow-heh!"
Torracat puffed its cheeks and retaliated by playfully nipping at Li Xiang's hand.
I'm already working so hard!
Not counting the past few months since school started, Torracat had gone from Level 4 to Level 25 in just a year—an insane growth rate of 21 levels in 12 months.
This kind of rapid progression was only possible in the early stages of a Pokémon's development.
As a Pokémon's level increased, its growth would naturally slow down.
By the time it reached the 60s or 70s, it might only gain three to five levels a year—if that.
Luckily, Torracat was still young.
Li Xiang's goal was to have both Torracat and Frogadier reach their final evolutions before entering the youth training camp, along with mastering a few key moves.
As for Riolu?
No rush. Its evolution depended on trust built over time—and a little bit of luck.
And then there was Corvisquire…
This guy had joined the team in early July, and now, in mid-November (about four and a half months later), it was already Level 34—just one step away from its minimum evolution threshold.
With a little luck, it might evolve by next month.
Of course, that was the best-case scenario.
If luck wasn't on their side, it might take until Level 41—but Li Xiang doubted his luck was that bad.
"Hang in there, buddy."
He gave Corvisquire's well-defined pectoral muscles a pat—the texture was amazing.
Was this because of its Big Pecks Ability?
The bird tilted its head in confusion, letting out a soft "Coo-coo-coo" as it sat on the seat like a brooding hen.
Corvisquire's vocal range was surprisingly complex—it could produce both harsh, grating caws and soft, melodic coos.
According to veteran bird trainers, some Corviknight with a talent for mimicry could even speak human language—much like parrots or mynah birds in the real world.
The Chatot they'd faced in a previous tournament was a perfect example—a Pokémon 100% capable of human speech.
If possible, Li Xiang wouldn't mind teaching Corvisquire to talk.
After all, if it was going to trash-talk one opponent, it might as well trash-talk them all.
Trainer and Pokémon, double the taunting.
Against hot-tempered opponents, this could have some interesting effects.
Sure, trainers weren't allowed to swear or verbally harass opponents during official matches.
But if a Pokémon decided to sass the competition in its own way?
Good luck stopping that.
Even if the ref intervened after the fact, the damage would already be done.
Psychological warfare— success!
Late November.
Song Jie's adorable Larvitar had finally evolved—transforming into a silver, spiky-armored cocoon that spent its days ramming into everything, its face hidden behind a mask of jagged horns.
Pupitar.
Its personality had shifted slightly.
Before, when Li Xiang tried to pet it, Larvitar would pretend to be annoyed—classic tsundere behavior, but now, as Pupitar, it had dropped the "tsun" and kept the "dere."
The moment it spotted Li Xiang, it would charge straight at him, rubbing its thick silver armor against his face with unexpected affection.
This was extremely rare for Pupitar and Tyranitar—species typically known for their ferocious temperaments.
"You've raised it well," Li Xiang said, struggling to push the 150-kilogram Pupitar off him before it crushed him to death.
"It's alright."
Song Jie tapped Pupitar's back lightly with a small hammer, making it let out a pleased sigh.
With its body now encased in thick armor, normal petting no longer did anything—only a good hammering could satisfy it.
Li Xiang dusted himself off and circled Pupitar, searching for its gas-release ports.
Pupitar had a unique ability—it could compress gas inside its body and expel it, allowing it to shoot through the air like a silver bullet.
If unobstructed, it could travel several kilometers in a straight line.
Absolutely terrifying.
Of course, the downside was obvious—Pupitar couldn't steer mid-flight.
Against agile opponents, this could easily backfire, leaving it wide open for counterattacks.
"They're inside its legs?"
Li Xiang crouched down, spotting two well-hidden ports beneath the small horns on Pupitar's lower body.
Upon closer inspection, he also found thin, dark seams where its body met its mask-like face.
These were the key to its flight—propelling its 150kg bulk through the air.
Using Take Down while jet-propelled would pack an insane punch.
Or if it leaped and slammed into the ground, it could amplify Earthquake's power.
The possibilities were endless.
Unfortunately, once it evolved into Tyranitar, this ability would disappear entirely—making it not worth deep-diving into for most trainers.
"Quit staring! Can't you see you're making it shy? Ever heard of 'men and women shouldn't be too familiar'?"
Song Jie shoved Li Xiang—who had been practically pressing his face against Pupitar's back—sending him tumbling to the ground.
Li Xiang blinked. "Wait… it's female?"
"Yeah, got a problem?" Song Jie retorted, pulling him back up. "You think its personality would be like this if it wasn't?"
Huh.
Li Xiang had always assumed Larvitar was male—given how playful and gluttonous it had been.
Female Tyranitar…
Now that was terrifying.
Compared to a "tigress," a "female tyrant" was on a whole other level.
Best not to provoke it.
Song Jie rolled his eyes.
Pupitar was the only female on his team and was doted on by the other three—especially Lairon, which had basically been its personal chauffeur before evolution, carrying it around the house daily.
Now?
No way that was happening anymore.
As they chatted, Yang Tianwang and Qu Sheng walked in, followed by a Scizor and a Magneton.
This wasn't a case of all three coincidentally evolving at once—Qu Sheng's Magnemite had evolved three days prior, pulling off a "divide-and-conquer" tactic during a battle by splitting into three.
Thankfully, Frogadier had Mud Sport.
As for Yang Tianwang's Scyther, it had evolved even earlier—about two weeks ago.
Using an item called Metal Coat, he had covered every inch of it before trading it away and back.
Ever since, Yang had been showing it off nonstop, asking everyone if they thought it looked cool.
And Scizor?
It loved striking poses, basking in the attention.
Then, after Li Xiang cheerfully said, "Damn, Yang, you look sharp!"—
Riolu kicked it straight into the ground with a Fire Punch.
4x weak to Fire + no Rain Dance = instant KO.
Speaking of trade evolution, the process was pretty much the same as in the anime—using a large machine with a screen to swap Poké Balls in real time.
During the exchange, Pokémon were exposed to a unique electromagnetic field, activating dormant evolutionary genes and triggering their transformation.
This implied that trade evolutions didn't rely on the trade machine itself—but rather on the anomalous EM waves generated during the process.
Similar to how Magneton, Nosepass, and Charjabug required a special magnetic field to evolve.
Or how, in the games and anime, the radio waves at Lake of Rage had caused a mass evolution of Gyarados.
These anomalous EM waves were a natural phenomenon—meaning wild Graveler, Haunter, and Machoke could also evolve without human intervention.
Of course, the mysteries of Pokémon evolution were far from fully understood.
But for trainers, knowing the basics was enough.
"You guys all had your big evolutions after steady training… meanwhile, I feel like the only one lagging behind."
Li Xiang sighed dramatically.
Song Jie shot him a disapproving glance, refusing to humor this blatant false humility.
Li Xiang's Pokémon were growing at a ridiculous pace—how dare he pretend to be struggling?
Disgusting.
Song Jie remembered the midterm exams, when Li Xiang had spent half an hour complaining about how many questions he'd gotten wrong.
He'd genuinely thought Li Xiang had bombed the test and even comforted him.
Then the results came out—
Li Xiang: 2nd place in the whole grade.
Song Jie: 3rd place.
He'd almost strangled Li Xiang on the spot.
Never falling for that again.
"...You're not even gonna play along?"
Li Xiang peeked at Song Jie, then whined louder.
"Screw you!"
Song Jie scoffed. "Wasting my breath!"
Damn, he's catching on.
Li Xiang sighed.
This guy was way too sharp—the same trick wouldn't work twice.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng from the next class kept falling for it over and over, with people constantly underestimating his strength and grades—and he never learned.
Why do I only get one shot at this?!
Unfair!
"Rii-oof…"
Riolu, who had been silent the whole time, facepalmed.
Having a trainer like this… is so embarrassing.
Maybe I should hide under the desk.