Chapter Three: The Calm Before the Storm
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At dawn, the great bell of Saintpeak Academy rang as scheduled. Its deep toll seemed to pour down from the horizon, resonating within every apprentice’s heart. The faint glow of runes flickered atop the bell tower, mirroring the distant snowy peaks. This academy, the continent’s core institution, was where prodigies of royal, celestial, and demonic bloodlines alike underwent trials—here, they were also drawn into an unpredictable storm.
Wang Qiong stood at the edge of the training ground, rubbing his shoulder. His gaze casually swept across the center of the field, where Xie Yan stood beside a rotating magic circle, backed by several instructors clad in black robes. The scrolls in their hands emitted a faint light, as if preparing for an extraordinary test.
“Something feels off today,” Wang Qiong muttered.
“You can notice that too?” Sugar sneered, “Congrats, you’ve evolved from a live target to an observant live target.”
Wang Qiong ignored her, but his expression grew serious. He knew his position in this academy was insignificant, yet a series of recent events had left him with a strange sense of oppression—like the eerie silence before a storm.
“Today’s test is a combat ability evaluation,” Xie Yan’s voice cut through his thoughts like a sharp blade piercing every apprentice’s ears. “This is not only a test of your own capabilities but also a reassessment of the academy’s resources. Those who perform well will receive equipment support personally provided by the Arms Department Head, Xie Meiliang.”
Whispers rippled through the crowd immediately after her words. The name Xie Meiliang meant one thing to every Saintpeak apprentice: an untouchable pinnacle.
“The Arms Department Head, Xie Meiliang?” Wang Qiong frowned. “Is her equipment that formidable?”
“Formidable?” Sugar scoffed. “Every piece of her gear drives weapon merchants across the continent insane. Xie Meiliang isn’t just the Arms Department Head here; she’s the top weapon maker on the entire continent. Do you know the starting price of her equipment on the black market?”
“How much?” Wang Qiong asked casually.
“Hundreds of millions of Credit Coins,” Sugar’s tone was mocking, “And that’s just the starting price. Whether you can actually buy it depends on connections.”
Wang Qiong drew a sharp breath. Though unclear on the real value of Credit Coins, the “hundreds of millions” figure instinctively felt like an insurmountable chasm.
“So, don’t get your hopes up,” Sugar said. “This level of equipment isn’t meant for apprentices like you.”
“Then what’s the point of training?” Wang Qiong muttered under his breath.
“Hey, newbie!” a loud voice called from behind.
Wang Qiong turned to see Nicholas striding over with a bright smile. “Stop daydreaming! Today’s a big day. I heard Department Head Xie will provide customized gear to the best performers. This could be a chance to change your fate!”
“Change my fate?” Wang Qiong curled his lips. “Sounds more like public execution.”
“Scared?” Nicholas laughed and patted his shoulder. “How would you know until you try? Even if you don’t get the gear, making a good impression on the head won’t hurt.”
Wang Qiong didn’t reply, only nodding slowly. He knew Nicholas was right, but an uneasy feeling about today’s test lingered in his chest.
—
Xie Meiliang’s entrance was even more striking than Wang Qiong had expected.
She strode from the far side of the field, slender and tall, her battle suit outlining her figure sharply. Her arms were clad in silver-black mechanical armor, each step ringing with metallic clicks, as if the perfect fusion of machine and flesh.
Her gaze was icy, devoid of emotion. Those sharp eyes swept over each apprentice, seemingly piercing their weaknesses instantly.
“Xie Meiliang,” Sugar whispered in Wang Qiong’s ear, “She’s not only the Arms Department Head but also a key player in the academy’s internal power balance. Her workshop—‘Mech Spirit Core’—is the continent’s top weapon manufacturing base.”
Wang Qiong swallowed hard and asked, “Is she independent, or part of some organization?”
“Think about it,” Sugar sneered. “Though she appears loyal to the academy, she’s intricately connected with the Federation Elder Council and the Divine Judgment Assembly. Behind her weapon production lies the continent’s power struggle.”
“Too complicated,” Wang Qiong muttered. “I just want to survive, but I’m dragged into this mess.”
“Survive?” Sugar’s tone grew mockingly playful. “Then you’d better perform. Today’s test determines your gear upgrade.”
—
The test began.
Each apprentice faced a combat puppet personally designed by Xie Meiliang. The puppets varied in shape—some resembled fierce beasts, others giants—but all were powerful, swift, and merciless.
Wang Qiong stood at a corner, his short sword soaked with sweat. He watched Nicholas, the beast-like orc youth, who easily defeated his opponent and earned applause from the instructors outside the arena.
“What a monster,” Wang Qiong whispered. “In the real world, that kind of talent would be an Olympic champion.”
Xie Meiliang stood in the center of the field, her gaze like a cold blade stripping confidence to pieces. She adjusted her glasses with a precise, commanding look that brooked no argument.
Wang Qiong tightened his grip on his sword. Xie Meiliang’s battle suit clung to her body, highlighting her slender waist and well-defined legs. Her shoulders were moderate, contrasting with the hard lines of mechanical armor. When she turned, the curve between waist and hips was smooth yet powerful, like a finely honed blade.
“Her aura isn’t something just anyone can imitate,” Wang Qiong muttered. “She looks like a ruthless mechanical queen.”
“She is the mechanical queen,” Sugar said with a cold laugh. “You’ve got some eye for it—worth something.”
On the field’s other side, Nicholas also showed deep respect for Xie Meiliang. He stood in the center, locking eyes with her but quickly lowering his gaze when met with her sharp stare.
“Next, Ellie,” Xie Yan’s voice broke the brief silence.
From the crowd, Ellie stepped forward. She wore a flowing teal robe, her steps light yet steady. Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, revealing delicate neck and collarbone lines as it swayed. The robe’s belt cinched her slim waist, and the skirt’s folds gently fluttered, hinting at long, graceful legs.
Wang Qiong was momentarily entranced, whispering, “The grace of the elves is truly unmatched.”
“Stop staring,” Sugar teased. “She’s not here to show off her figure.”
Ellie approached Xie Meiliang and released a precise wind blade, slicing through an iron pillar at the field’s center in a fluid, elegant motion.
“Your psi energy output is efficient,” Xie Meiliang nodded, eyes lingering on her. “But your equipment doesn’t match your ability. After this, go to my workshop and get a wind-guided weapon.”
“Thank you, Head,” Ellie bowed slightly and turned away.
As she returned to the crowd, her skirt lifted slightly, outlining her graceful silhouette. Wang Qiong stood still, secretly admiring, “The girls in this academy are truly a sight for sore eyes.”
“Can you be a bit more serious?” Sugar sneered. “Stop ogling all these distractions.”
“I want to succeed, but I also need to feast my eyes,” Wang Qiong shrugged, glancing sideways at Yin He standing across.
Yin He wore a simple hunter’s outfit, her long hair tied loosely behind. While less refined than Ellie’s attire, the outfit hugged her figure, accentuating her slender form. Subtle lines hinted at her chest beneath the fabric, rising gently with her posture, and a tight belt emphasized her slim waist and rounded hips.
Wang Qiong quickly looked away and forced himself to focus, secretly thinking, “Are the girls in this other world all so shameless?”
“Next, Wang Qiong,” Xie Yan’s voice thundered, snapping him out of his thoughts.
—
Wang Qiong took a deep breath and stepped into the arena’s center. He knew he was the weakest among them, but this was a chance he had to seize.
Xie Meiliang stood at the edge, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning him like a precise machine.
“Begin,” she said coolly.
The mechanical puppet emerged from the opposite side, its arms clad in heavy armor, twin blades gleaming coldly. Wang Qiong gritted his teeth, raised his dagger, and channeled psi energy into its blade, the runes gradually glowing.
The puppet suddenly launched its twin blades in a slicing strike. Wang Qiong failed to dodge in time, blocking with the dagger blade, the impact numbing his arm.
“Don’t just take hits,” Sugar’s voice warned coldly. “Focus — use your speed to make up for your lack of strength.”
Wang Qiong clenched his teeth, forcing calm. He watched the puppet’s movements, searching for an opening. As the blades swung down again, he dodged sideways and slashed an arc with his blade, its cold light cutting toward the puppet’s side.
The blade grazed the puppet’s armor, leaving a shallow mark. Surprise flashed in Wang Qiong’s eyes as he quickly adjusted, preparing for the next attack.
Xie Meiliang stood outside, arms crossed, eyes flickering with contemplation. She muttered, “This kid’s psi control is lacking, but his willpower is just enough.”
The fight lasted several minutes. Though barely holding on, Wang Qiong was clearly nearing exhaustion. The puppet remained relentless, each strike oppressive.
“It’s over,” Sugar whispered.
Just as the twin blades were about to strike, Wang Qiong poured all his psi energy into the dagger. A dazzling light burst forth, a blade aura like thunder slashed toward the puppet’s head.
The puppet froze, then crashed down.
Wang Qiong collapsed to his knees, gasping, his dagger still faintly glowing. He looked up as Xie Meiliang approached, calm and sharp-eyed.
“You passed,” she said. “But you need more training.”
Wang Qiong nodded, secretly relieved. He knew this was only the beginning; the road to true strength was long.
Dust still swirled in the field’s center as sunlight slanted through the academy’s high towers, stretching everyone’s shadows. Wang Qiong gripped the dagger, standing over the puppet’s remains, sweat trailing down his temple, breath ragged. His knees trembled; that strike had nearly drained all his strength.
“Still alive?” Sugar’s voice echoed in his mind, dripping with usual mockery. “Don’t think you won. You just lasted longer than the puppet.”
“Thanks,” Wang Qiong gritted out, forcing a smile. “At least I didn’t disgrace myself.”
Xie Meiliang stood nearby, silent, her gaze coldly appraising him. Her eyes scanned his stamina, psi control, and dagger condition like a precise scanner. She pushed her glasses up—a simple, yet commanding gesture impossible to ignore.
Her presence remained sharp and undeniable. As she turned and walked away, Wang Qiong’s attention involuntarily followed. Her battle suit shimmered faintly with metallic luster in the sunlight, tracing a long, slim waist and perfectly proportioned curves between shoulders and hips. Her steps were light but purposeful, as if each footfall was part of an unchallengeable rhythm.
Wang Qiong muttered, “Do all mechanics have this kind of aura? Or is this world just too good to supporting characters?”
“You’re wrong,” Sugar’s tone was sly. “She’s the Arms Department Head, not a supporting role. And she didn’t earn her position by looks.”
Xie Meiliang stopped and glanced back at Xie Yan, her voice cold and concise: “This apprentice barely qualified. His psi control is too low. Next stage requires stronger mastery of guided weapons.”
Xie Yan nodded, then fixed her gaze on Wang Qiong. “Find Ellie and train with her wind blade. Your weakness is speed; she can help.”
Wang Qiong was stunned. “Ellie? The… elf?”
“Not happy?” Xie Yan raised an eyebrow, tone icy as if asking, “Do you have another choice?”
“No, no,” Wang Qiong waved his hands hurriedly, though inwardly sighed. He knew Ellie probably didn’t think highly of him. This training would likely mean being dominated again.
—
After training, the apprentices gradually dispersed. Wang Qiong lagged at the back, his mind still turning over Xie Meiliang’s words about “guided weapons.” He looked at the faintly glowing runes on his dagger, full of questions.
“What exactly is this dagger?” he whispered to Sugar.
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“It’s an experimental weapon,” Sugar answered lazily. “Basically, the academy’s semi-finished product to test apprentices’ psi adaptability. It helps you adapt faster to psi guidance, but the risk is—it could collapse any moment.”
“Collapse anytime?” Wang Qiong twitched his mouth. “These department heads are really careless.”
“You should feel lucky you’re not using Xie Meiliang’s advanced gear,” Sugar said coldly. “Each piece can destroy half a city, but users either burn out their psi or get killed by the weapon’s backlash.”
“Sounds cool, but not for the living,” Wang Qiong clicked his tongue. “What exactly is this academy doing? Everyone’s just throwing their lives away?”
“Sacrifice is the price of growth,” Sugar chuckled. “How do you think geniuses become geniuses? No middle ground here. Either you survive and walk out, or you die inside.”
Wang Qiong was silent a moment, then sighed, “Sounds nice when you put it like that.”
He reached the dormitory entrance, about to open the door, but spotted a familiar figure nearby—Ellie, leaning against a tree, playing with a pale blue wind blade that hummed crisply in her fingers as the breeze danced.
She noticed his gaze, raised an eyebrow, and beckoned, “Why are you standing there? Come over.”
Wang Qiong hesitated, then approached. “Xie Yan told me to train with you.”
“Hm, I know,” Ellie looked him over; golden hair shimmered softly in the sunset, her expression distant, proud. Her voice was clear and cool like spring water: “You want to train speed, right?”
“Yes,” Wang Qiong nodded. “But I’m not sure how…”
“You don’t need to know,” Ellie interrupted, her tone firm and unyielding. “Just follow my moves.”
She turned and walked away, skirt lifting slightly to reveal long, straight legs. Each step moved with the rhythm of wind—light but carrying undeniable strength.
“Keep up,” she said without looking back.
Wang Qiong took a deep breath and quickened pace. He found her movements not only fast but fluid as willow leaves dancing in the breeze—effortless yet precise. Her figure was a streak of teal light weaving through the trees, leaving gusts in her wake.
“Don’t zone out,” her voice came from ahead, tinged with a slight smile. “If you can’t keep up, you won’t even beat a puppet.”
Wang Qiong gritted his teeth and ran faster, secretly thinking, “This woman’s not just beautiful, her moves are flawless.”
“Focus,” Sugar snapped. “She’s helping you train, not for you to admire.”
—
The sun sank lower; shadows lengthened in the forest. Ellie stopped and looked back at Wang Qiong, a faint smile curling her lips.
“Not bad. At least you didn’t disappoint me.”
Wang Qiong leaned against a tree, gasping for breath, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the compliment… but next time, can you go slower?”
“Slower?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, amused. “You think the enemy will wait for you to slow down?”
“True,” Wang Qiong smiled wryly. “But I’m seriously struggling to keep pace.”
Ellie said nothing, turning to leave. Her silhouette stretched long in the twilight, steps still light as the wind.
Wang Qiong watched her fade into the woods, looking down at his dagger. “The strong in this world really aren’t human.”
Night fell, and Saintpeak Academy grew quiet. Moonlight bathed the bell tower, casting a silvery glow over rune-covered walls. Wang Qiong leaned by the dormitory window, holding his newly acquired dagger, feeling its faint chill.
“This dagger… something’s off,” he murmured.
“Of course it is,” Sugar’s voice abruptly sounded, dripping with mockery. “It’s Xie Meiliang’s experimental piece. Whether you survive its backlash depends on your brains.”
Wang Qiong ignored her, running a finger over the dagger’s glowing runes, sensing a latent power barely contained. He took a deep breath, slowly infusing psi energy. The blade’s blue light brightened, but a sudden sharp pain shot through his palm, nearly forcing him to drop it.
“You really can’t control it,” Sugar sighed. “If your psi isn’t stable, don’t push it.”
“Have to try,” Wang Qiong gritted his teeth. “Can’t just muddle through life half-heartedly.”
“But remember, the dagger is just a tool,” Sugar said coldly. “What decides victory or defeat has never been the weapon—it’s always you.”
Wang Qiong paused, then bitterly smiled. “Sounds like something a life coach would say.”
“Life coach?” Sugar laughed. “Who would bother teaching a loser like you?”
Wang Qiong rolled his eyes, about to retort, when a knock came at the door. Frowning, he opened it to find a woman standing outside.
She wore a deep purple gown, cinched at the waist with a silver belt embroidered with runes, accentuating her slender figure. Her black hair cascaded like a waterfall; her features were coldly beautiful, yet her eyes held a subtle, almost imperceptible gentleness.
“I’m Mei Ling, homeroom teacher of Ace class,” she said, her voice low and elegant, carrying an innate authority.
“Homeroom teacher?” Wang Qiong was momentarily stunned. His gaze swept over her face until her slight smile made him realize his rudeness.
“Do you have a moment?” Mei Ling asked. “I need to speak with you.”
“Oh, sure,” Wang Qiong nodded quickly, puzzled. A homeroom teacher coming to find him personally was unusual.
—
The library was nearly empty at night, with dim magical lamps floating beneath the high dome. Mei Ling stood by a bookshelf, gently flipping through a heavy tome. Her lavender-painted nails brushed the pages softly.
“You should know, Ace class is the academy’s top tier,” Mei Ling closed the book and faced Wang Qiong. “Every student here has unique potential, but potential alone isn’t enough. You must prove yourself to truly stay.”
“I…” Wang Qiong hesitated. “Xie Yan’s training should count as proof, right?”
“That’s just the beginning,” Mei Ling stepped closer, her figure cloaked in shadow, mysterious and beautiful. So near Wang Qiong could almost smell her scent—a sweet yet faintly metallic tinge that strangely matched her aura.
“Have you ever wondered why you were chosen?” she asked softly, probing.
Wang Qiong froze. He’d never seriously pondered this, accepting his arrival in this world as some absurd fate.
“You mean…” he ventured, “the academy’s selection?”
Mei Ling smiled subtly, ambiguous. “Not just the academy. I mean a bigger chessboard—the Infinite Continent.”
She gestured toward the window, where snow peaks stood silent under moonlight.
“The Shadow Organization’s influence has infiltrated the academy,” she said. “Doesn’t it seem strange? A place like Saintpeak Academy should be the continent’s safest fortress.”
Wang Qiong blinked. “You’re saying… someone inside is helping them?”
“Very perceptive,” Mei Ling nodded. “But it’s not just internal. The Shadow Organization is only the beginning. You need to understand the continent’s balance is cracking.”
“Balance?” Wang Qiong echoed, a vague concept flickering in his mind.
“Saintpeak Academy isn’t just a school,” Mei Ling spoke slowly. “It’s the fulcrum of ten tribes, a symbol of compromise among factions. Everything here—courses, rules, even your training—serves a larger purpose: maintaining continental stability.”
Her gaze sharpened. “But that balance is being destroyed. And you… happen to be at the center of this upheaval.”
Wang Qiong was bewildered. He instinctively stepped back, unease in his voice: “Me? The center of upheaval? I’m just a…”
“Just an ordinary person?” Mei Ling interrupted softly, complexity in her eyes. “You haven’t realized your uniqueness yet. But soon you will understand—your existence is crucial to some.”
She turned and walked toward the library exit; her purple gown swayed gracefully, exuding an indescribable elegance and mystery.
“Cherish your time, Wang Qiong,” she left him with a whisper like the wind. “Time is running out.”
—
After Mei Ling left, Wang Qiong stood alone in the library, his mind in chaos.
“I’m just an ordinary person,” he mumbled. “What kind of upheaval is this?”
“Not ordinary,” Sugar’s voice suddenly sounded, sharp but with a trace of subtle meaning. “And she’s right—time is short.”
“What do you know?” Wang Qiong frowned.
“I know more than you can handle,” Sugar sneered. “But don’t rush. After you survive tomorrow’s training, I might tell you more.”
Wang Qiong sighed, gripping his dagger tighter, his gaze solidifying. He knew this storm was only beginning—and he had no way back.
Moonlight shimmered on Saintpeak Academy’s bell tower. The night was tranquil but couldn’t mask the undercurrents lurking deep within. Wang Qiong sat at a long library table, in front of a well-worn book titled Psi Energy and Guided Armaments. After Mei Ling left, he’d hoped to calm his mind, but their conversation stirred waves in his heart.
“Chessboard, upheaval, Shadow Organization…” Wang Qiong muttered, fingers tapping the table absentmindedly. “Why do all these ridiculous big words get pinned on me?”
“Because you’re a mystery,” Sugar’s voice remained cold but carried a faint subtlety. “Even I don’t understand why someone like you was chosen.”
Wang Qiong rolled his eyes and closed the book. “Could you be a little gentler? I don’t need a mental breakdown right now.”
“A breakdown might clear your head,” Sugar sneered. “You think being ordinary will save you? The Shadow Organization never targets ordinary people.”
“Targets?” Wang Qiong frowned. “So last night wasn’t a coincidence?”
“Of course not,” Sugar said lazily. “Their infiltration always has purpose. Their aim is psi users or some crucial power. And you—” she dragged the last word out deliberately, “just happen to be the one hiding secrets.”
“I’m hiding secrets?” Wang Qiong chuckled bitterly. “Then tell me, what secrets?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Sugar’s tone turned cold. “But before that, you better figure out what kind of person you want to be.”
Wang Qiong was stunned. He opened his mouth but found no answer.
—
Leaving the library, the night was deep. The academy’s avenues were deserted, only wind rustling through the trees, occasionally mingled with unknown animal calls. Wang Qiong wrapped his cloak tighter, walking slowly along the stone path, Mei Ling’s words echoing in his mind.
“Balance, upheaval… what secrets are hidden here?” he murmured.
“You’d better not ask,” Sugar’s voice warned, tinged with caution. “The more you know, the faster you die.”
“But I’m barely holding on to a reason to live now,” Wang Qiong smiled bitterly. “Everyone says I’m important, but no one tells me why.”
“Importance isn’t for explanation—it’s for proof,” Sugar said.
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Wang Qiong paused, then sighed deeply. “Fine, more of that inspirational nonsense.”
Just as he turned toward his dorm, soft footsteps sounded behind him. He instinctively looked back to see a familiar figure approaching.
“Ellie?” he said in surprise.
Ellie still wore her teal robe; the breeze lifted her hair gently. Her steps were light yet resolute, her gaze as calm as an icy lake but hiding inscrutable depths.
“Not asleep yet?” she approached, voice tinged with slight reproach. “You have training tomorrow—you should rest.”
“You too,” Wang Qiong shrugged. “Besides, I’m having trouble sleeping.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Her voice remained cold: “If you can’t sleep, go to the training ground and use your dagger more.”
“This dagger hasn’t killed me yet,” Wang Qiong smiled wryly, holding up his short blade. “I don’t want to suddenly drop dead at midnight.”
Ellie’s eyes fixed on the dagger, voice heavy with meaning: “Xie Meiliang’s experimental gear isn’t a toy. If you can’t control it, it will control you.”
“Then teach me,” Wang Qiong joked half-seriously. “Aren’t elves the best at psi control?”
Ellie narrowed her eyes, a sly glint flickering. “I can, but it’ll cost you.”
“Cost?” Wang Qiong blinked. “You’re not going to make me do something weird, are you?”
“Weird?” Ellie laughed softly, voice as gentle as the night wind. “If I’m to teach you, first you must learn to obey.”
Though casual, her tone carried an inexplicable pressure. Wang Qiong instinctively stepped back, laughing awkwardly, “Alright, I obey.”
Ellie seemed pleased, a slight smile rising. She turned, flicked her hair, and a faint plant-like fragrance drifted to Wang Qiong’s nose, making him pause.
“Keep up,” she said softly, stepping forward briskly.
Wang Qiong shook his head and hurried after her. Watching her retreating figure, a thought struck him: “This woman’s not only strong—she’s dangerous.”
—
On the training ground, Ellie stopped and looked back at Wang Qiong, her eyes appraising like a buyer inspecting goods.
“Your psi control is worse than I expected,” she said coldly. “But it’s not your fault. Humans aren’t naturally precise controllers.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Wang Qiong smirked. “So how do I train?”
“Simple,” Ellie raised her hand, conjuring a pale blue wind blade. “Copy me.”
Wang Qiong frowned at the blade in her hand. “Is that something you can copy?”
“It’s trained,” Ellie said softly, tossing the blade into the air. It spun gracefully, tracing a beautiful arc before slicing a stone pillar.
“Your task is to do the same with your dagger,” she said with a teasing look. “But if you can’t even release blade aura, don’t blame me for looking down on you.”
Wang Qiong inhaled deeply and raised his dagger. Closing his eyes, he focused and infused psi energy. The dagger’s runes lit up, but he felt restless power within the blade, as if ready to spiral out of control.
“Don’t rush,” Ellie’s rare gentle voice came beside him. “Control your breath. Feel the dagger’s rhythm—it’s not resisting you, just waiting for your guidance.”
He listened and adjusted his breathing, focusing on the runes. His palm steadied, a cold energy flowed out, gathering into a faint glow along the blade.
“Good,” Ellie nodded, lips curving slightly. “Now try releasing it.”
Wang Qiong gritted his teeth and swung forward. A faint blade aura burst from the edge, cutting through the night air and striking a small stone.
Ellie clapped, a rare note of praise in her voice. “Not perfect, but progress.”
Wang Qiong wiped sweat from his brow and grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Ellie said nothing more, turning away. The hem of her skirt fluttered, bringing a cool night breeze.
Watching her go, Wang Qiong clenched his dagger, a stubbornness not of this world growing inside him.
“No matter the storm’s size, I have to find a way to survive,” he murmured, eyes resolute.
Late at night, Saintpeak Academy was as silent as a painting. Cold wind swept past the bell tower, stirring the runes’ faint glow on the walls, like invisible hands tracing ancient carvings. Wang Qiong stood outside the training ground, dagger in hand, gaze fixed on the snowy peaks bathed in moonlight.
“Ellie’s training is effective,” he whispered, looking down at his dagger. The runes still faintly glowed, reminding him this was no ordinary weapon.
“Effective, yes, but not enough,” Sugar’s voice came from his mind, calm yet impatient. “You’re far from tapping its potential.”
“I’m no genius,” Wang Qiong smiled bitterly. “And this place isn’t kind even to geniuses.”
“You’re right,” Sugar sneered. “No geniuses here, only unexhausted wastes and dead experiments.”
Wang Qiong was silent, gripping his dagger with stubborn resolve. “Then I’ll try not to get drained.”
“Good,” Sugar’s tone carried subtle approval. “But the academy’s dangers go beyond training. Don’t forget, the Shadow Organization is watching you.”
Wang Qiong frowned. “You mean… they’re targeting me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sugar’s voice grew low. “But remember, they’ve infiltrated the academy. Saintpeak isn’t the fortress you think—it’s far more complex inside.”
Unease welled in Wang Qiong’s heart. He looked up at the distant bell tower, eyes deep, as if seeing some invisible threat through the silent night.
“If they really come for me, what should I do?” he whispered.
“Survive,” Sugar answered simply. “As long as you live, one day you’ll understand why.”
—
The next day, the academy’s atmosphere was heavier than usual. The magic circles on the training ground were removed, replaced by a massive portal framed by glowing crystals. Runes flowed across its arch, humming deeply.
Xie Yan stood before the portal, her eyes cold and voice sharp as a blade cutting through the air.
“Today’s mission is to explore the academy’s underground ruins. Each group will be teleported to different zones to complete collection tasks. Remember, unknown dangers may lurk below. Anyone who leaves their team unapproved bears full responsibility.”
“Underground ruins?” Wang Qiong whispered to Nicholas. “Part of the academy?”
“Of course,” Nicholas nodded, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I heard many ancient relics are hidden there, some tied to the academy’s history. But… it’s dangerous.”
Wang Qiong glanced nervously at the portal, sensing today’s mission would be far from simple.
Groups were quickly formed, and apprentices stepped through the portal one by one. Wang Qiong was grouped with Nicholas, Ellie, and Karl. As he steadied himself, Ellie’s cold gaze swept him, warning: “Don’t slow us down.”
“I’ll try,” Wang Qiong smiled and followed them into the portal.
—
When the light faded, Wang Qiong found himself in a dim space. A low rocky dome arched overhead; walls were carved with intricate runes emitting faint phosphorescence. The air was damp, tinged with subtle decay.
“So this is the underground ruins?” Wang Qiong whispered.
“Quiet,” Ellie gestured for silence.
Nicholas led the way, steps light and steady, wielding a flaming battle axe that drove back the darkness. Karl lurked in the shadows, eyes sharp and vigilant.
“Our task is to find crystal cores,” Ellie said softly. “They’re special psi energy crystals that stabilize the underground structure. Each group must bring back at least two.”
Wang Qiong nodded, trailing behind. His eyes caught the runes on the walls, which seemed to tremble slightly, harboring restless power.
“These runes…” he whispered. “They’re glowing.”
“Don’t touch,” Sugar suddenly warned, anxious. “Those are sealing runes, imprisoning something. If they fail, the consequences are dire.”
Wang Qiong’s heart tightened. He stepped back instinctively. Ellie and Karl also eyed the runes warily.
“Keep moving,” Nicholas said quietly. “This place feels wrong. The crystal cores are ahead—we must finish quickly.”
They cautiously passed a narrow corridor, arriving at a spacious hall. At its center stood a tall stone stele, covered in twisted runes emitting eerie light.
“What’s that?” Wang Qiong whispered.
“The sealing core,” Sugar’s voice echoed darkly. “This place isn’t just ruins—it’s a prison for something.”
“Something?” chills ran through Wang Qiong. “You mean… it’s holding something inside?”
“Don’t ask,” Sugar snapped. “Stay away from the stele. Grab the cores and leave.”
Nicholas soon found a crystal core, glowing pale blue like a giant gem. He placed it in his belt pouch and looked around. “One down, one to go.”
They spread out searching, unaware the stele’s runes dimmed and a thin crack appeared at its base. A cold breath surged forth, suffocating and oppressive.
“Run!” Sugar shouted urgently in Wang Qiong’s mind. “The seal is loosening!”
“Run?” Wang Qiong began to warn the others, but the dome above trembled violently. Rocks fell, sealing the exit tightly.
“We’re trapped,” he cursed softly.
Ellie gathered wind blades, trying to clear the stones, but the icy aura spread through the hall like invisible hands choking them all.
“What is that?” Nicholas turned, eyes wide in shock.
From the stele’s crack, a black hand covered in dense runes emerged, exuding a nauseating aura. A deep, hoarse voice echoed ancient words from the fissure.
“What the hell is that?” Wang Qiong’s voice trembled.
“It’s not from this world—seal it!” Sugar’s tone was icy and resolute.
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