The early morning sunlight filtered through the rented apartment's mottled windows, casting golden pillars of light that landed softly on the cramped single bed.
Miles was jolted awake by a rhythmic, booming snore.
Blinking his bleary eyes open, he felt like a several-hundred-pound boulder was pressing down on his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.
Looking down, he found the culprit. His gluttonous little Munchlax had rolled over in its sleep.
Its hill-like, grayish-blue belly was draped heavily across his torso.
A long string of crystal-clear drool hung from the little guy's mouth, catching the morning light to form a faint rainbow halo in time with its even breaths.
"If it were anyone else with a weaker constitution, they'd have been sent to the afterlife first thing in the morning," Miles muttered with a helpless, bitter smile.
Using every ounce of strength he could muster, he finally managed to shove the incredibly heavy mountain of flesh off his body.
Munchlax grunted twice, rolled over, scratched its thick armpit, and went right back to its defenseless, deep slumber.
Miles sat up and stretched, his bones popping like firecrackers.
The mental exhaustion from last night's intense livestreaming session had been completely swept away by the deep sleep.
He grabbed his old, cracked smartphone from the nightstand, unlocked it with practiced ease, and opened his streaming platform's creator dashboard.
Beyond the staggering financial earnings, what really excited Miles was the explosive growth in his follower count.
In just two or three streams, his audience had skyrocketed from basically nothing, breaking the three thousand mark!
Given this terrifying conversion rate and viewer loyalty, if he kept up the momentum today and continued putting out high-quality appraisals...
Once his follower count hit the five or ten thousand threshold, the platform's algorithm would definitely flag him as a "high-potential top streamer."
That would force the system to greenlight him for a massive traffic boost.
When that happens, his streaming career would truly take off!
However, once the initial euphoria faded, his cold, rational mind quickly brought him back to reality.
Making more money meant spending more money, especially in the bottomless money sink that was Pokémon breeding.
Munchlax was in its prime developmental stage.
Cheap, ordinary Pokémon food couldn't possibly satisfy its massive appetite or fuel the secondary awakening of its genes.
The prices of high-grade Pokéblocks—packed with high-purity energy and rare Berry powder—were absolutely staggering.
On top of that, he needed to buy a [Heavy Ball] or [Luxury Ball], which featured comfortable micro-environments and internal gravity control systems.
That was another unavoidable expense.
And that wasn't even factoring in his second-hand streaming gear, which lagged like a slideshow. He'd have to upgrade to a top-tier setup sooner or later.
'This money seems like a lot, but if I actually invest it into professional Pokémon breeding, it won't even make a splash.'
Miles rubbed his temples, quickly formulating a plan.
'The top priority is to get that officially stamped [Junior Pokémon Appraiser Certificate] as soon as possible.'
'With that official backing, I can rightfully accept high-end, paid appraisal requests from the ultra-rich. That's where the real money is.'
Thinking of this, Miles opened his mobile browser and logged into the Federal Pokémon Association's official website to check the application process.
When he clicked on the certification tab, his brow furrowed.
The registration process was infuriatingly bureaucratic.
Not only did it require filling out over a dozen pages of background information, criminal record checks, and educational transcripts...
But even after passing the initial review, he would actually have to book an appointment online and wait for a lengthy in-person interview at the local branch.
Seeing that the waitlist was already booked half a month out, Miles felt a massive headache coming on.
"What kind of bureaucratic nonsense is this? I make tens of thousands by the minute. Who has time to waste half a month waiting on a bunch of tea-drinking office jockeys?"
Miles scoffed coldly.
Since the whole process was a massive time sink, he decided to skip the appointment entirely.
'Rules are made by men, and a living man isn't going to let himself be suffocated by them. I'll head to the downtown library today, buy those dense theoretical textbooks, and cram for a few days.'
'Once I've mastered the theory, I'll take my System straight to the Association Headquarters, block their executives at the door, and give them a live, crushing demonstration of my skills!'
'In a world where strength is everything, as long as my abilities are undeniable, the officials will be begging to issue me a license!'
With his mind made up, Miles's mood instantly cleared.
He turned to look at Munchlax, who was still snoring loud enough to shake the heavens, and playfully pinched the highly elastic tip of the little guy's nose.
"Wake up, fatty! The sun's shining on your butt! Time to eat!"
"Munch... Munch?!"
At the word "eat," the previously dead-to-the-world Munchlax acted as if a highly sensitive switch had been flipped.
Its sleepy eyes snapped open, and its round body bounced upright on the bed with an agility that completely defied physics.
Its stubby paws flailed in the air, drool pouring from its mouth as its innocent, wide eyes stared intensely at Miles.
'Food? Where is the food?!'
Seeing the little clown's reaction, Miles shook his head with a helpless laugh.
After a quick wash, he led Munchlax out of the apartment and into the fresh morning air, heading straight for a bustling breakfast joint on the corner.
"Boss! Give me twenty of your signature juicy meat buns! Four massive bowls of piping hot, freshly ground iced soy milk, two large bowls each of sweet and savory tofu pudding, and fry up ten crispy deep-fried dough sticks! We're eating here!"
Miles sat down at a slightly greasy folding table. His incredibly bold order instantly drew the shocked stares of the surrounding diners.
The owner, a plump middle-aged man in a white apron, initially assumed Miles was a crew member buying breakfast in bulk for a film set.
But when he spotted the hill-sized, grayish-blue Munchlax sitting obediently on a plastic stool and frantically gulping down drool, understanding dawned on his face.
"You got it, young man! Raising a big eater like that isn't easy. With an appetite like that, an ordinary family would eat themselves into bankruptcy! Buns coming right up!"
The owner teased good-naturedly as he quickly plated the food.
In no time, bamboo steamers stacked like miniature mountains, filled with steaming meat buns, soy milk, and dough sticks, covered the entire table.
"Munch!!!"
Munchlax's eyes turned into sparkling stars.
It let out an excited roar, its two large paws moving like tireless excavators.
Grabbing two boiling-hot buns, it opened its abyssal maw to shove them straight down its seemingly bottomless throat without even blowing on them.
Smack!
In the nick of time, Miles's hand shot out, gently slapping the back of Munchlax's paw and forcefully interrupting its attempt to swallow the food whole.
"Munch... Munch?"
Munchlax froze, holding the buns mid-air, its large eyes filled with grievance and confusion.
Its expression seemed to protest: 'Master, why won't you let me eat? Did I not scrub your back hard enough yesterday?'
Miles looked at its pitiful expression, but his face grew more serious than ever, like a strict father instructing his child.
"Munchlax, listen to me. Eating is an incredibly sacred art!"
Miles raised a finger, lecturing patiently. "If you just swallow everything whole without looking, like you did when you were wandering the garbage dumps, how is that any different from eating rocks?"
"You won't taste the rich broth inside the meat bun, and you won't feel the softness of the dough!"
"More importantly," Miles deliberately deepened his voice to scare it, "if you eat something this hot without chewing, your stomach will get sick!"
"And once you're sick, you'll never be able to eat anything good again! You'll only drink bitter medicine every day!"
At the words "never be able to eat anything good again," Munchlax's massive body violently trembled, genuine terror filling its eyes.
"Come on, watch me and learn."
Miles picked up a meat bun and gently blew on it.
Then, he took an exaggeratedly small bite, closed his eyes, and put on an intoxicated expression as if he were in paradise, slowly and rhythmically chewing.
"You have to chew slowly and let the aroma of the food explode on your tongue. That is the greatest respect you can show to food. Understand?"
Munchlax blinked, only half-understanding.
Clumsily, and even a bit comically, it mimicked Miles, bringing a large meat bun to its mouth.
It carefully blew on it twice, then restrained itself to taking only half a bite, slowly chewing with loud smacking sounds.
The next second!
Munchlax's eyes shot wide open!
A previously unseen, incredibly shocked light erupted within its somewhat dull pupils!
The rich, savory broth and scallion aroma flooded its mouth, perfectly intertwining with the slight sweetness of the dough.
That wondrous sensation dancing across its taste buds was an ultimate elevation it had absolutely never experienced in its life of swallowing food whole!
"Munch! Munch!!!"
Munchlax danced with joy. As it turned out, if you chewed your food a few more times, it tasted so much better!
Acting like it had just discovered a new continent, it began to savor the feast on the table bite by bite with an earnest, almost solemn sense of ritual.
...
Seeing that the little guy had finally learned to "savor," Miles smiled warmly and downed his iced soy milk in one gulp.
After a full meal, both of them left the breakfast shop with slightly bulging stomachs.
But instead of heading home to lie around, Miles changed direction and walked straight toward a large public sports stadium not far from his apartment.
"As the saying goes, maintain an army for a thousand days to use it for an hour. Even though we're in the appraisal business, in this dangerous Pokémon world, if we don't have strong bodies, we wouldn't even be able to run away if we ever ran into a crazy Tauros."
Miles took a deep breath as he stared at the wide, red synthetic track, a flash of determination in his eyes.
"Munchlax, today's task is simple. The number one item in physical training: long-distance endurance running! No matter how tired you get, you have to keep up with my pace and finish five kilometers!"
"Munch..."
Staring at the seemingly endless track, Munchlax looked down at the fat jiggling wildly on its own body with every breath and let out a deeply resistant whine.
"Protests are invalid! Finish the run and you get premium Pokéblocks; fail, and you skip lunch!"
Miles issued the iron-clad order, taking the lead and settling into a steady jog around the track.
Coerced by the promise of food, Munchlax could only begrudgingly move its stubby legs, rumbling behind Miles like a heavy armored vehicle on a bumpy road.
About an hour later.
The early autumn sun had gradually risen, and a hint of dry heat began to fill the air.
Pant... Pant...
Miles was sprawled out spread-eagle on the soft green grass in the center of the stadium, looking like a dead dog.
His chest heaved violently like a broken bellows. Sweat had completely soaked through his t-shirt, dripping frantically from his cheeks onto the blades of grass.
'The foundation of this sub-health body from my past life is just too weak...'
Less than half a meter away, Munchlax was in an even worse state.
Its massive, fleshy body was completely flattened out like a grayish-blue pancake.
Its long tongue hung out of its mouth, and only the faint rising and falling of its belly proved it was still alive.
There had always been an insurmountable chasm between the physical stamina of humans and Pokémon.
If this were a normal Fighting-type or Normal-type, five kilometers wouldn't even count as a warm-up.
But for a heavy eater like Munchlax, who had poured all of its evolutionary points into "fat reserves" and "digestion," dragging a several-hundred-pound ball of meat through a long-distance run was simply a cruel and unusual punishment.
'This is too freaking exhausting...'
Miles panted, staring up at the azure sky.
Just as he felt like his limbs were filled with lead, unable to lift even a pinky finger...
A bizarre yet incredibly soothing sensation washed over him without warning!
Miles felt his breathing gradually steady.
Within his boiling hot blood, a very faint but incredibly pure, cooling energy seemed to be silently seeping into his bones and limbs through his open pores.
In a daze, he opened his eyes.
Refracting the sunlight, he saw what looked like a miracle.
Countless mysterious motes of light—millions of times smaller than dust and emitting an incredibly soft glow—were drifting around the exhausted Munchlax!
These motes seemed to be drawn by some invisible magnetic field, continuously merging into Munchlax's body.
And through this resonance, a minuscule fraction of those light motes melted into Miles's severely fatigued body like a gentle spring rain.
That buildup of lactic acid, which would normally have left his muscles aching for days, was frantically fading away at an unbelievable speed under the wash of this mysterious energy!
It was replaced by a buoyant sensation, as if his cells had been reactivated and filled with vibrant life!
"What... what is this?!"
Miles's eyes shot wide open, a terrifying storm of shock rising in his heart.
His past memories and his knowledge of this world collided and merged in his mind like lightning.
"I get it... I completely get it!"
Miles looked at his hands in disbelief, an incredibly fanatic light erupting in his eyes.
"This is the foundational core rule of this world—[Pokémon Energy]!"
In the Pokémon anime Miles used to watch, there was always a famous meme considered as an "unsolved mystery."
It was why the protagonist, Ash Ketchum, was known as the "Super Pallet Towner."
He could barehandedly lift Pokémon weighing over a hundred pounds, take a direct hit from Pikachu's Thunderbolt, and even get roasted to a crisp by Charizard's Flamethrower, only to dust himself off and keep fighting.
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
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