Ethan turned and spotted a crowd—five people, all wearing the familiar uniforms of the Sacred Wind Academy, gathered behind him. Even before he caught Ricky's smug sneer, Ethan knew who it was. The entire group looked down their noses at him, their postures radiating exclusion. Among them was Oliver, the young prodigy with Warrior Grade Physique, Major Grade Spiritual Roots, and Major Grade Spirit, now dressed sharply in the academy's colors.
Two girls lingered near Oliver, their voices lilting and sweet as they tried to draw his attention; Ethan couldn't help but notice their flirtatious gestures, and he thought with a faint touch of amusement how rough competition for attention could be, even in a world built on spiritual progress.
Ethan decided not to let their presence bother him. He quietly shuffled past the group to the food counter, scanned the menu, and, suppressing a wince, ordered the cheapest meal available—despite its meat-heavy contents.
Discomfort gnawed at him, but his hunger and need to preserve basic dignity outweighed distaste. He then sat alone, waiting for his food, ignoring pointed glances and snickers from his "peers."
Ricky, thrown by Ethan's silence, hesitated a moment. In the world of cultivation, pride was a pillar—disrespect was rarely allowed to go unanswered. He expected shouting, outrage, maybe a challenge. Instead, Ethan simply waited, gaze steady but non-confrontational. It stoked Ricky's anger. Was he being ignored—by this trash?
With an exaggeratedly loud voice, Ricky declared, "You're twenty-three. You want to start your cultivation now? And with Mortal Grade Spiritual Roots, Mortal Grade Physique, and Mortal Grade Spirit!"
His voice rang out, calculated to draw the attention of every diner in the vast hall.
"What makes you think you can do anything with those garbage talents? How do you expect to succeed with such pathetic aptitude?"
Conversation in the hall stopped; the only sound was the scrape and clatter of utensils paused in mid-air. Dozens of heads swiveled toward Ethan, their eyes flickering with curiosity, pity, or masked disdain.
A chorus of shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd:
"Did I hear correctly? Since when did the admissions standards drop so low?"
"Mortal Grade everything—even his Spirit! And at twentythree? That's barely cultivation material at all!"
"By the heavens, I've never seen anyone with such mediocrity. Why even bother joining?"
Ethan heard every word. He felt the heat of all those eyes on his back. But he just sat, his hands folded calmly on the table, waiting for his food. Years of being at the social bottom in his old world had inured him to this sort of spectacle; humiliation, for him, had once been a constant companion.
Ricky, watching the growing spectacle, felt triumphant. Now was the time to escalate—to drag Jake down alongside Ethan. "The truth is, you're a disgrace to this academy,"
Ricky continued, feigning sorrow, "but you're not the only one. The person who brought you here is an even bigger disappointment."
He turned to the dining hall, raising his voice even more. "Anyone curious about which fool recruited this so-called genius? Well, I'll tell you. It was Senior Inner Disciple Jake!"
The room fell silent for a tense heartbeat before the shock exploded into whispers. Jake had always been respected and well-liked—a cultivator known for his kindness, fairness, and quiet strength. The idea that he had brought such an "embarrassment" into the academy rocked the crowd.
"Senior Jake did this?"
"Why would he risk his reputation?"
"Maybe Jake isn't as sharp as we thought…"
Ricky's smile widened. He'd finally found a way to strike back at Jake for years of comparison and frustration. He watched the faces in the crowd, savoring each surprised and skeptical glance. In this moment, Jake's standing took a deep blow.
As for Ethan, Ricky eyed him expectantly, looking for the sting of humiliation, the flinch, the crack in composure that would show everyone that his words had found their mark.
But when he actually looked at Ethan, what he saw was… nothing. Ethan calmly accepted his meal from the server, gave thanks with an even voice, and began to eat with a quiet sort of focus. Not even the faintest hint of shame marred his face.
Ricky's satisfaction twisted into irritation. He searched Ethan's face for a reaction, only to find his adversary's attention was somewhere else entirely. What Ricky didn't know—and what no one else in the dining hall could have guessed—was that Ethan had learned long ago to weather humiliation by tuning it out, like an unpleasant noise in the next room. On earth, he had endured so much derision and exclusion that it had become, in some strange way, just background hum.
Besides, Ethan had a distraction—a particularly important one.
As the crowd's interest shifted to him, a crisp System notification blinked across his vision:
Quest Activated
Quest Name: A True Librarian II
Quest Rank: A
Description: Keeping the library clean is only the beginning for a true librarian. The next step is to draw interest: attract disciples, encourage learning, and revive the culture lost to two centuries of decline.
Mission 1: Attract and register 100 disciples as library members for 25% completion.
Mission 2: Attract and register 500 disciples as library members for 50% completion.
Mission 3: Attract and register 1,000 disciples as library members for 75% completion.
Mission 4: Attract and register 5,000 disciples as library members for 100% completion.
Special Mission: If you can attract the interest of faculty and make them frequent readers, your rewards will be doubled.
For a heartbeat, Ethan nearly dropped his chopsticks. This challenge was completely different—not about brawn or talent, but about organization, creativity, and subtle persuasion. He was being asked to revive an institution and encourage learning. That wasn't a job for muscle or spiritual roots; it was a mission he could actually shape, using the determination that had kept him going his whole life.
He looked up at Ricky, who was still gleefully basking in his imagined conquest. Ethan almost smiled. Let others have power, beauty, or rare talents. He would make his own mark, one small step at a time. Right now, that started with eating, and maybe—just maybe—bringing something new to Sacred Wind from the dust of forgotten shelves.
Ricky, meanwhile, stewed in growing confusion and frustration: his most scathing attacks had gone ignored, his intended victim seemingly unaffected. The applause and laughter faded, replaced by a strange silence as people resumed eating, curiosity dulling as Ethan failed to deliver the reaction they'd wanted to see.
Humiliation, Ethan realized, only had power over you if you let it. He finished his meal in peace, already planning the next steps of his mission—and for the first time, excitement bubbled in his chest at the prospect of moving beyond survival and into purpose.