The adrenaline of the morning sparring session had barely dissipated when the grand bell of the Spirit Hall Primary Academy tolled, signaling the transition from the physical to the cerebral. The sweat on the young students' brows began to cool as they were ushered out of the combat arena and into the imposing structure of the Main Lecture Hall.
This building was a stark contrast to the open-air freedom of the training grounds. It was a cathedral of knowledge, with high vaulted ceilings painted with frescoes of legendary Title Douluos and rows of polished mahogany desks arranged in a semi-circle around a raised podium. The atmosphere was heavy with academic rigor.
Yorrichi and Renxue took their seats near the front. Renxue sat with the straight-backed elegance of a princess, while Yorrichi settled in with a relaxed, observant posture, his eyes scanning the room. He noted the exits, the acoustics, and the vantage points—habits from a life spent hunting demons that he couldn't quite shake, even in a classroom.
A tall, elderly man with a stern face and a goatee as sharp as a dagger walked onto the podium. This was Teacher Mo, a Soul Sage of level 78, known for his unparalleled knowledge of martial soul theory. He didn't shout, but his voice projected effortlessly to the back of the room, magnified by a subtle use of soul power.
"Welcome to the path of the Soul Master," Teacher Mo began, his gaze sweeping over the sea of noble children. "You have all awakened your spirits. You have all shown talent. But talent without direction is merely a fire that burns itself out."
He tapped a pointer against a large blackboard.
"Over the next year, you will follow a strict curriculum designed to break you down and rebuild you as pillars of the Spirit Hall. You will learn the history of the Continent, the geography of the Great Forests, the classification of Spirit Beasts, and the meditative arts required to condense your soul power."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Understand this clearly: admission to this academy is a privilege, but graduation is an achievement. To graduate from the Primary Academy and ascend to the Advanced Spirit Hall Academy, you must meet two non-negotiable criteria." He wrote two numbers on the board in stark white chalk.
Age: 12. Soul Rank: 15.
"If you reach the age of twelve and have not broken through to the fifteenth rank," Teacher Mo said coldly, "you will be dismissed. You will be sent to the auxiliary branches to serve as clerks or guards. The Advanced Academy is reserved for elites. Do not think your family names will save you here. Only your power speaks."
A murmur of anxiety rippled through the room. For many of these pampered children, the threat of failure was a new and terrifying concept.
Yorrichi remained impassive. Rank 15 by age twelve? He thought. That is a low bar for someone with determination. But for those who are lazy, it is a wall.
Teacher Mo spent the next hour conducting a demo lecture. He didn't just talk; he demonstrated. He summoned his own Martial Soul—a Black-Ink Quill—and showed them the flow of meditation. He manifested a visible stream of pale blue soul power, guiding it through the air like a ribbon.
"Meditation is not sleeping," he lectured, manipulating the ribbon of light. "It is the active dredging of the meridians. You must pull the energy from the heavens and earth, filter it through your lungs, and deposit it into your dantian. Watch the flow. Turbulent flow wastes energy. Laminar flow builds power."
Yorrichi watched with rapt attention. While he used the Breath of the Sun for physical and explosive power, this theory of "Soul Power Meditation" was the key to unlocking the magic of this world. He compared the teacher's explanation to his own Total Concentration Breathing.
They are different, yet similar, he mused. Breathing oxygenates the blood to enhance the body. Meditation absorbs energy to enhance the spirit. If I can merge the two cycles perfectly... my recovery rate would be infinite.
After an hour of intense theory, which left half the class rubbing their temples in confusion and the other half scribbling furiously, the bell tolled again.
"Class dismissed," Teacher Mo announced, snapping his book shut. "You have one hour for lunch. Proceed to the Canteen. I expect you to maintain the discipline of the Spirit Hall. Do not run. Do not shout. Dismissed."
The flood of students exiting the hall was like a dam breaking. The tension of the lecture evaporated, replaced by the hunger and chatter of children.
Yorrichi and Renxue walked side-by-side through the stone corridors. It was a study in contrasts. Yorrichi moved with a silent, fluid grace, his face a mask of calm stoicism. He looked like a miniature general inspecting his troops. Renxue, on the other hand, radiated a brilliant, almost blinding cheerfulness. She walked with a bounce in her step, her golden hair swaying, humming a tune, clearly unbothered by the academic pressure.
Other students parted ways for them, casting glances of awe and intimidation. The rumors of the "Level 20 Seraphim" and the "One-Hit Sword Demon" had already circulated after the morning spar.
As they neared the Canteen, a group of four girls, dressed in the finest silks of the auxiliary noble clans, approached them. They were clearly nervous, giggling amongst themselves and nudging each other forward. They were talented children, likely Level 7 or 8 innate power, and they had clearly decided that befriending the Future Pope was their primary mission.
"Um... L-Lady Renxue?" the leader of the group, a girl with braided brown hair, squeaked out. "We... we saw you in the awakening ceremony. Your wings were so beautiful!"
Renxue stopped, her expression flickering. She was used to admiration, but she was also hungry and wanted to eat with her brother. She viewed these interruptions as nuisances. Her nose wrinkled slightly, and she turned her head, ready to unleash a haughty dismissal and march past them.
She tugged sharply on Yorrichi's sleeve, sending him a silent, annoyed signal: Get rid of them. I want lunch.
Yorrichi stopped and looked at the four trembling girls, then down at his sister's impatient face. He understood her instantly. In her mind, she was the Queen, and he was her Knight who cleared the path.
But Yorrichi remembered his mother's words about the academy. Social dynamics. Alliances.
He leaned down, his voice a whisper that only Renxue could hear, laced with a dry, brotherly humor. "My Queen Sister," he murmured, "a ruler cannot rule an empty room. You need allies. You need subjects who adore you, not just fear you."
Renxue blinked, whispering back, "Hmph. Whom do I need? Aren't you there for me always? You can beat everyone up."
Yorrichi's eyes softened slightly. "I will always be there. But the more, the better. Mother insisted we come here to interact, to understand the people we will one day lead. You cannot always be cold to those who approach you with politeness and honesty. If you reject their loyalty now, you create enemies for the future. Do you want four enemies, or four admirers who will fetch your desserts?"
Renxue paused, the logic penetrating her stubbornness. Admirers who fetch desserts... That didn't sound too bad.
"Fine," she whispered back, pouting. "But what do I say?"
"Just be yourself. But the nice version," Yorrichi advised. He straightened up and looked at the group of girls, giving them a rare, polite nod. Then, he looked at Renxue. "I have some matters to attend to. I will leave you to your new friends. Take care, Sister. We will meet after lunch."
Renxue's eyes widened in betrayal. "Wait! You're leaving me?!"
But Yorrichi was already moving, walking away with a stride that suggested he had urgent business, leaving Renxue standing alone in front of the four expectant girls.
He wasn't abandoning her; he was forcing her to swim. He knew that if he stayed, she would hide behind him. She needed to learn to wield her charisma as a weapon, just as she wielded her sword.
Left alone, Renxue felt a flash of frustration. She huffed cutely, stomping her foot against the marble tiles. Stupid brother! Leaving me to deal with the social stuff!
She turned back to the group of girls. The silence was awkward. The girls looked terrified that they had offended her.
Renxue realized she had to act. She forced a smile onto her face. It was... weird. It was a stiff, slightly maniacal grimace that showed too many teeth, a result of trying to look "approachable" while suppressing her annoyance.
The girls flinched.
"H-hello," Renxue said, her voice a bit too loud. "Yes. My wings. They are... very... wing-like. Thank you."
The brown-haired girl blinked, then giggled nervously. "I... I like your hair ribbon, Lady Renxue."
Renxue touched her hair. "Oh? Mother gave it to me." She relaxed a fraction. "Do you... like ribbons?"
It was a clumsy start, but it broke the ice. The tension snapped. The girls surged forward, sensing that the "Ice Queen" was actually just a slightly awkward girl. Within minutes, the dynamic shifted. Renxue's natural charisma took over. She began leading the group toward the food counters, gesturing expansively as she described her training (omitting the secret parts), while the girls listened with rapt attention.
By the time they reached a table, Renxue was laughing—a genuine, bell-like sound. They ordered their lunch trays, filled with high-quality spirit meats and fruits, and sat together, a circle of budding friendship. Renxue sat at the head, naturally, but she was listening, asking them names, and even sharing a pastry.
In the far corner of the massive canteen, nestled in the shadows of a large pillar, Yorrichi stood with his tray.
He had chosen the simplest meal available: grilled river fish, white rice, and miso soup. It reminded him of a life long ago, a life of charcoal burners and mountain snow.
He watched Renxue from across the hall. He saw her laughing, saw her sharing her food, saw the way the other girls looked at her not with fear, but with adoration.
Good, Yorrichi thought, a sense of relief washing over him. She is adapting. She has the heart of a leader; she just needed a push to open the door.
He took a bite of the fish. It was flavorful, far better than anything he had eaten in his past life's poverty, yet he ate with a mechanical efficiency. He noticed the empty seats around him. There was a visible radius of exclusion around his table.
Other students glanced at him and then quickly looked away, whispering behind their hands.
"That's him... the one who took down Lin Feng in one hit."
"He didn't even use a Spirit Skill."
"He looks so cold... I don't want to sit there."
Yorrichi felt their gazes—fear, curiosity, wariness. His "Lone Wolf" aura, forged in the solitude of hunting demons in the dark, acted as a natural barrier. He didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it. The chatter of children was exhausting to his adult mind. Solitude allowed him to think, to analyze, to plan.
I will let Renxue be the sun that draws people in, he mused, sipping his soup. I will be the shadow that watches the perimeter. If anyone in that group betrays her, or if anyone tries to dim her light... I will be there.
He finished his meal in silence, enjoying the peace amidst the chaos of the lunchroom. He watched the clock on the wall. The hour was nearly up.
Renxue was now showing the girls a small trick with her soul power, making a spoon spin, causing the table to erupt in applause. Yorrichi smiled, a tiny, almost invisible quirk of his lips.
She is happy. That is enough.
The grand bell tolled again, echoing through the hall. Lunch was over.
Yorrichi stood up, collecting his tray. He adjusted his uniform, his face returning to its default mask of calm indifference. It was time for the afternoon session. History and Theory of Spirit Beasts.
He walked toward the exit, his path converging with Renxue's group. She saw him and waved, her face glowing with happiness. He nodded back, falling into step a few paces behind her, the silent guardian once more.
The first half of the day was over. The Academy was not a battlefield of blood, but it was a battlefield of influence, and the twins were already conquering it, each in their own way.