The sky above East Sea Academy was clear, crystalline blue, stretching endlessly over the elegant spires and tiled rooftops of the city's greatest academic institution for Spirit Masters. Below, rows of students filed neatly into the main plaza in response to the bell's echoing chime.
Qiang Ming walked at a measured pace behind his group, eyes half-lidded, calm as ever. His black jacket swayed faintly in the morning breeze, the white hammer sigil on his chest unmistakably embroidered in fine thread. Every few steps, a student glanced his way, and then quickly looked away.
After the incident in the dorms, his name had spread—quietly, unofficially—but everyone in the incoming class had heard it.
He didn't speak. He never needed to.
The Opening Ceremony passed without anything particularly exciting. Elders, sponsors, and instructors gave short speeches. Principal Yun Ren made his appearance only briefly before vanishing again like a ghost in robes. Qiang Ming stood at the rear of his assigned formation, notably positioned apart from Ye Sugei, Xi Xan, and We Wei, who were placed into Class 4.
He had been assigned to Class 5, the bottom class.
A minor punishment perhaps, or perhaps simply an act of precaution. If Yun Ren truly thought Qiang Ming might flatten his roommates again, best to keep them apart.
Qiang Ming didn't mind. He didn't come here for competition. He came to build his foundation—as Su Yang had instructed. This was just one more forge in which he would temper himself.
He stood silently, eyes closed, tuning out the noise of the world.
Until a name drifted to him on the wind.
"Did you hear?" a girl whispered just behind him. "Wu Zhangkong is back! He's teaching Class 5 this year!"
"Wu Zhangkong?" replied a delicate voice, boyish and nasal, his eyelashes absurdly long. "That's... the Wu Zhangkong?"
"They call him the Ice God. He used to be from Shrek Academy, y'know?"
Qiang Ming opened one eye.
Interesting.
Room 5A was a plain-looking classroom, walls reinforced by spirit jade, training dummies pushed to the corners. Students filtered in with varying degrees of energy—some excited, some sleepy. Qiang Ming sat in the third row, his presence commanding space despite his silence.
Then the door opened.
And in walked a man of stark contrast.
Wu Zhangkong.
He wore pure white robes with faint glacier-blue accents. His long silver-blue hair trailed past his waist. His expression was cold, carved from unmelting ice, and his posture radiated silent strength. He walked with the quiet weight of a blizzard, as though the air around him bent to his will.
He stood before the class, hands behind his back.
"My name is Wu Zhangkong. I am your teacher. Let us begin. Stand and introduce yourselves: name, age, Martial Soul, and current soul power rank."
No warm-up. No welcome. Straight to discipline.
The first few students jumped up one by one.
"Tang Wulin. Age nine. Martial Soul: Blue Silver Grass. Rank eleven."
"Xie Xie. Age nine. Martial Soul: Light Dragon Dagger. Rank eighteen."
Students murmured as he sat down with a confident smirk, clearly proud of his relatively high soul power. Xie Xie crossed his legs and leaned back smugly.
"Zhang Yangzi. Age nine. Martial Soul: Shadow Cat. Rank thirteen."
"Wang Jinxi. Age ten. Martial Soul: Bone Dragon. Rank fifteen."
On and on it went. Most hovered between Ranks 10 and 15, with Xie Xie taking the lead.
Until the last student stood.
Qiang Ming stepped forward.
He did not hesitate. His voice was composed and clear.
"Qiang Ming. Age nine. Martial Soul: Blackstone Abyss Hammer. Rank twenty-one."
The air shifted.
Then—
"Wait—two yellow rings?!"
"He said twenty-one?!"
"No way!"
"His martial soul... it's a hammer? Look at the aura!"
Gasps burst out. Even Xie Xie sat bolt upright, his eyes wide in disbelief. Tang Wulin leaned forward with a shocked expression. The entire room vibrated with tension.
As if on cue, Qiang Ming raised his right hand.
With a low hum, the Blackstone Abyss Hammer materialized in a shroud of violet-black mist. Two yellow soul rings glowed under his feet, bright and steady.
He stood there calmly, his spirit pressure spilling into the room—not aggressive, but dense and overwhelming.
Even without doing anything, Qiang Ming made everyone feel it:
He was different.
Wu Zhangkong narrowed his eyes slightly, a subtle reaction, but it spoke volumes.
"Sit," he said.
The class went dead silent.
Qiang Ming dismissed the hammer and returned to his seat. Even now, he could feel eyes boring into his back.
Tang Wulin clenched his fists under the desk. So this is the level I need to reach... Already at two rings... I have to catch up.
Beside him, Xie Xie muttered under his breath.
"He thinks he's so cool…"
But a twinge of anxiety was already blooming in his gut.
He outranks me—and I've trained my entire life…
Wu Zhangkong turned back toward the class.
"After breakfast, there will be a series of duels," he said calmly. "Two-on-two, and one-on-one. Use what you've learned. Assess each other. Learn your own limits."
His gaze swept over the room.
"Control your power. No one here is above consequences."
His eyes lingered for just a fraction of a second longer on Qiang Ming.