The Soul Awakening Ceremony concluded, and Mo Xuan led the children out of the hall.
"Master Soul Master!"
Old Carl, who had been waiting anxiously at the door, hurried forward. "Were any of our children blessed with the gift of spirit power this year?"
Mo Xuan nodded. "One. Born with full innate soul power—though his martial soul is a body soul."
He wasn't surprised by Carl's reaction. Every village had someone like him: hopeful, desperate for a miracle.
"F-full soul power? But… a body soul?"
Carl's initial elation crumbled into dismay. Even in this remote corner of the continent, everyone knew the reputation of body souls—useless.
"Count yourself lucky," Mo Xuan said flatly. "The last three villages had none."
With that, he strode off toward his next destination, leaving Carl to digest the bittersweet news.
Who could it be? The old man turned to the children—some dejected, others buzzing with excitement—when a voice piped up beside him:
"Grandpa Carl! That's me! Full innate soul power—pretty awesome, huh? (＾▽＾)"
Wu Tong grinned up at him, eyes sparkling.
Gratitude swelled in Wu Tong's chest. This man had been his first warmth in this strange world—the one who'd scooped him up as a helpless infant and raised him as his own.
Carl's stern face softened. He didn't mention the "useless" martial soul. Instead, he ruffled Wu Tong's hair. "Don't fret over the type. Spirit power's what matters."
He had no idea Wu Tong was far from dismayed. If anything, the boy was thrumming with anticipation (￣y▽￣)~*.
But Wu Tong kept silent. Let the world cling to its prejudices. Proof would come later.
Together, they waited for the other villagers to collect their children, then started home.
The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, dappling the path with golden light. Not scorching—gentle, like the air itself had been steeped in warmth.
Three days later, bags packed, Carl and Wu Tong arrived at Nottingham City.
The city loomed before them: towering walls, ornate gates, armored sentries—all testaments to its wealth and power.
Outside the gates, hawkers shouted, caravans trundled, and the clatter of hooves mingled with the scent of spices.
Inside, the streets bustled. Shops with fluttering banners lined the avenues; pedestrians in vibrant silks and travel-worn cloaks wove through the crowds.
Yet the two barely glanced at the splendor. Their destination lay in the East District:
Nottingham Junior Soul Master Academy.
The plaque above its gates bore eight gilded characters, gleaming proudly. The main entrance was shut, but a side door stood ajar, guarded by a lanky, disheveled attendant who nonetheless stood ramrod straight.
Through the iron fence, Wu Tong glimpsed manicured gardens, stately buildings, even an ornamental pond.
"We're here to enroll my grandson," Carl said, presenting the Spirit Hall's certification.
The gatekeeper scanned it. "Main body soul… the brain. Another 'useless'—" He caught himself, swallowed the word, and waved them in. "Proceed."
Interesting.
Wu Tong's mind raced. The man's hesitation suggested prior experience—likely with another "useless" soul.
Tang San.
If they were the same age, then the admission incident must've happened recently. This revelation anchored Wu Tong. Knowing the timeline was crucial.
If Tang San hadn't yet joined Shrek Academy, there might still be opportunities—immortal herbs, spirit bones, treasures ripe for the taking.
Not that Wu Tong needed them. But why pass up leverage? Whether for allies, underlings, or bargaining chips, they'd prove useful.
Still, such plans could wait.
First: six years in this academy to lay the groundwork.
As an otaku in his past life, Wu Tong's knowledge was broad but shallow—compulsory education, pop culture, anime trivia.
But here, as a peasant boy in a feudal world, advanced knowledge was locked away.
The academy's library—a three-story monolith etched with "Library"—caught his eye the moment they entered.
Perfect.
Wu Tong's plan crystallized:
Devour every text in that library.
Publish research on body souls, reshaping their reputation.
Join the Spirit Hall—not as a discarded oddity, but as a scholar like Yu Xiaogang, leveraging their resources for spirit rings and research.
When Mo Xuan had offered him a place before, Wu Tong had declined for this very reason. The Hall wouldn't waste resources on a "useless" soul without proof of worth.
But with academic prestige? That'd open doors, funding, even protection.
After completing enrollment, Wu Tong bid a bittersweet farewell to Carl and headed to his new home:
Dormitory 7.
He pushed the door open.
His college life—and the first step toward greatness—began now.
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