The Gu Moon Academy was not a single building but a walled-off section of the village dedicated to forging the next generation. The morning after the Awakening, the ten youths who had successfully opened their apertures were gathered in a stark, functional classroom. There were no decorations, only rows of woven mats facing a raised platform.
An old, stern-faced Gu Master stood on the platform. This was the Academy Elder, a man whose own C-grade aptitude had capped his cultivation at Rank Three, forcing him into the role of an instructor. His face was etched with the bitterness of a failed ambition, and his eyes held no warmth for the children before him.
"You are here because you are the clan's future," he began, his voice flat and devoid of passion. "Do not think of yourselves as special. You are investments. Some of you are high-risk, low-yield ventures. One of you," his eyes flickered to Meng Ru, "is a prime asset. The clan will pour resources into you based on this potential. Your task is to provide a return on that investment. Fail, and you will be liquidated."
The cold, brutal honesty settled over the room.
"Today's lesson is the foundation of your entire path: the primeval sea within your aperture." He began to explain the grades of aptitude.
"D-grade, twenty to thirty-nine chances in a hundred. A sea of green copper. Your essence recovers slowly. Your potential is limited. You are destined to be the clan's cannon fodder." The two D-grade youths in the class flinched.
"C-grade, forty to fifty-nine chance in a hundred. A sea of red steel. The majority of you fall here." He glanced at Gu Moon Bo and Feng Yin. "You are the backbone of the clan. You will become its officers and managers if you survive."
"B-grade, sixty to seventy-nine chances in a hundred. A sea of blue silver. We have none this year. A B-grade talent is a candidate for clan elder."
"A-grade," his gaze locked onto Meng Ru again, the intensity in his eyes deepening. "Eighty to ninety-nine chances in a hundred. A sea of purple crystal. Or, in your case, a primeval sea of pure silver light. Your essence recovery is phenomenally fast. Your potential is to reach the highest ranks. You are the clan's hope for a new Elder, perhaps even a new clan leader."
The weight of his words was a palpable pressure.
"But potential is nothing without resources," the Academy Elder continued, moving to a locked chest at the side of the platform. "To nurture your primeval sea, you need primeval stones."
He opened the chest. Inside, glistening stones pulsed with a soft, internal light. He took out several small pouches.
"Each of you will receive a stipend of primeval stones. This is your first investment from the clan. Use them wisely."
He called the D-grade youths first. They each received a pouch containing five stones.
The C-grades were next. Gu Moon Bo stepped forward, his expression sullen. He received ten stones. Feng Yin accepted her ten stones with a quiet, unreadable expression.
Finally, the Elder turned to Meng Ru. He did not hand him a small pouch. Instead, he lifted a heavy bag from the chest.
"Meng Ru. As an A-grade genius, your initial stipend is one hundred primeval stones."
A collective gasp went through the room. One hundred. Ten times the amount given to a C-grade. The disparity was not just large; it was a chasm.
Gu Moon Bo's face contorted with a fresh wave of incandescent rage. He stared at the heavy bag in Meng Ru's hands, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. The injustice of it burned in his eyes.
Meng Ru accepted the bag, the weight of the stones a solid, tangible representation of his new status. He met Gu Moon Bo's hateful glare with his usual calm, analytical gaze. He did not see an enemy. He saw a variable. A predictable, emotionally compromised variable.
"Return to your mats," the Elder commanded. "Take one stone. Hold it in your palm, and will the primeval essence from it into your aperture. This is your only task for the rest of the day. Dismissed."
Back in the solitude of his new courtyard, Meng Ru sat cross-legged on his mat. He took a single, gleaming primeval stone from the bag. It was cool to the touch, and he could feel the dense, pure energy swirling within it.
He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the vast, silver sea within his aperture. He held the stone and willed its energy to flow into him.
A stream of warm, pure essence flowed from the stone, through his arm, and into his aperture. It was like a clear, fresh river pouring into a vast, empty lake. The ninety-two-chance-in-a-hundred sea of silver light, which had been still and placid, began to ripple and churn, absorbing the essence greedily. The feeling was intoxicating, a promise of immense, growing power.
The stone in his hand quickly dimmed, its energy spent, crumbling into fine dust.
Meng Ru opened his eyes. He had taken his first true step on the path of cultivation. And he had learned the first, most fundamental rule of this world: aptitude was not just potential. It was currency. And he was, by far, the richest among them.