Morning sunlight streamed through the window. Fu HongJun slowly opened his eyes, stretching as he sat up on the creaky inn bed. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room.

“…Grandpa?”

The room was empty.

Frowning, he got up and pushed open the wooden door, stepping into the hallway. The scent of fresh tea and roasted herbs drifted in from the inn’s main room.

He followed the aroma and soon found Grandpa Ji sitting alone at a corner table, sipping tea quietly. The morning light outlined his weathered figure in gold.

Fu HongJun hurried over, plopped down in the chair opposite him, and asked with all the urgency of a starving child:

“Grandpa, what’s for breakfast?”

Hearing that his grandson’s only concern was food and not the life-altering journey ahead Grandpa Ji let out a helpless laugh. Yet behind his smile, his heart was heavy with worry.

He waved to the innkeeper.

“Two bowls of meat porridge. And one roasted chicken.”

A few minutes later, the old woman returned, carrying a wooden tray stacked with steaming bowls and the golden-skinned roasted chicken, its scent rich and mouthwatering.

Fu HongJun eagerly grabbed one of the chicken thighs and handed it to his grandfather.

“Grandpa, eat!”

Grandpa Ji accepted it with a small smile.

Then, without hesitation, Fu HongJun grabbed the second thigh for himself, biting into it with satisfaction as he drank spoonfuls of hot porridge between chews.

Watching his grandson devour the food like a little lion, Grandpa Ji couldn’t help but murmur quietly:

“Jun’er... what kind of future will you have?”

The breakfast ended quickly.

Grandpa Ji paid the innkeeper and led Fu HongJun out into the city streets.

Jing Kong City - Morning

The city was already alive.

Wide stone-paved roads stretched between tall, sloped-roof buildings made of red brick and dark wood. Colorful banners fluttered from shop awnings, and the air buzzed with the chatter of merchants, the clatter of carts, and the clanging of hammers from nearby forges.

Street vendors called out with loud voices:

“Fresh buns! Hot buns with pork and mushrooms!”

“Spirit peppers! Two coins per bag! Guaranteed to awaken your soul!”

Children ran barefoot through alleyways, laughing, while beggars sat at the corners holding worn-out bowls. A man with missing teeth shouted fortunes to passersby for one copper coin.

Some people rode spirit oxen. Others walked alongside strange beasts, creatures with fur like steel and glowing eyes, obviously tamed by cultivators.

Amid all this chaos, the world felt alive, noisy, crowded, and strangely warm.

Fu HongJun’s eyes darted everywhere. Shops full of scrolls and pills. Stalls selling shiny trinkets and talismans. He could barely keep his head still.

Then

A sudden whoosh echoed overhead.

A man streaked through the sky on a shining flying sword, robes flapping like a banner in the wind.

Fu HongJun pointed in shock.

“Grandpa! How can they fly with swords?! Aren’t they afraid of heights?!”

Grandpa Ji chuckled. “Jun’er, they’re sword cultivators.I don’t think fear of heights is on their minds.”

But Fu HongJun didn’t hear the answer. His attention had already shifted to a group of cultivators walking down the road with strange spirit beasts, some that looked like scaled wolves, others like three-eyed panthers.

After nearly an hour of walking, the duo finally arrived at their destination.

Nestled at the edge of the city was a large, walled compound. Guard towers stood at the four corners. The outer walls were stone, but inside, rows of wooden buildings and wide courtyards could be seen.

The front gate was simple yet imposing two towering doors made of blackened wood, reinforced with iron.

Above them, a large board hung.

In bold characters:

Mortal Academy

And below that, in smaller, almost mocking script:

No Talent. No Treasure. Just Trauma.

Reading that line, Fu HongJun’s expression twisted.

He had a strange feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

Grandpa Ji pushed open the gate and walked in. Fu HongJun followed, and was immediately hit by the deafening sound of children shouting.

In the open training grounds beyond the gates, dozens, maybe hundreds of boys and girls were undergoing brutal physical training.

Some were lifting large stones and running laps while shouting their counts. Others were doing endless sit-ups and push-ups, sweat dripping into the dirt. There were children rolling boulders, sparring with wooden swords, and boxing under the watchful eyes of strict instructors.

Seeing all this, Fu HongJun gulped.

His face turned pale.

“…Grandpa… can I go home with you?”

Grandpa Ji laughed heartily. “Of course not. Haha.”

As they stood at the edge of the courtyard, a man walked out from the main hall. He looked to be in his forties, with a square jaw, a clean beard, and muscles thick like temple pillars. His training robes were stretched tight over his broad shoulders.

Grandpa Ji stepped forward and called out:

“Young man, I’m here to enroll my grandson. I have a recommendation letter. May I ask where is the dean?”

The man glanced at them.

“I’m the dean,” he said simply. “Do you have the letter, or are you here for the entry test?”

Grandpa Ji nodded and handed over the letter.

“Here.”

The dean opened the envelope and read it carefully. After a few seconds, he folded it, nodded, and turned to Fu HongJun.

“Little guy. Come with me.”

He glanced back at Grandpa Ji.

“Uncle, you can head back now. I’ll train him.”

Fu HongJun wanted to complain. He really, really did.

But seeing Grandpa Ji's calm expression, he sighed and followed the dean into the hall.

Inside, the hall was cool and dim. At the center stood a massive stone, its surface etched with ancient runes.

Along the walls, several burning incense sticks flickered gently before wooden plaques bearing the names of past deans, honored figures whose legacies still lingered in the air like faint echoes. Some of the plaques were polished and well-maintained. Others were older, their edges worn with time, the names faded but not forgotten.

The dean stopped in front of the testing stone.

“Little guy. Your name is Fu HongJun, right? Come here. Place your hand on the testing stone.”

Fu HongJun hesitated but did as he was told.

The moment his palm touched the cold surface, the stone emitted a dull gray glow. A single star dimly lit up within it, flickering like a candle in the wind.

The dean raised his brows.

“Not bad. Not bad. One meridian is about to open… The talent may be grey, but it’s worth training.”

He turned, walked to a nearby shelf, and pulled out three neatly folded gray uniforms, then tossed them to Fu HongJun.

“From today, you’ll be training with the senior branch, kids one year older than you.”

He handed over the clothes.

“Wear this and get started. You’ll wash your own uniforms. No maids here.”

Then his tone turned colder.

“We have rules. Three meals a day but it’s first come, first serve. You want to eat? You fight for it. Starve if you’re slow.”

Fu HongJun blinked, stunned.

Was this really… a school?

He looked down at the rough fabric in his hands, then tightened his grip on the uniform.

“…This is going to be hell, isn’t it?”

“Little guy, go. Go to the field and you will see the dark-skinned uncle,darker than the bottom of the pot. Ask him to assign you to the senior branch.”

Hearing that, Fu HongJun hugged the gray uniforms tightly to his chest and dashed out of the hall like a fleeing squirrel. There was no need to search for long. At the northern corner of the vast training field, under a crooked parasol, sat a very tanned man at a table stacked high with scrolls and name plaques like a bureaucratic mountain.

Excitedly, Fu HongJun rushed over and called out, loud and clear

“Uncle Black! Are you the one the dean mentioned? The one darker than the bottom of the pot?!”

Silence.

Several kids nearby froze. Some subtly took a step back. A few started preparing to sprint like a monster was about to appear.

The black-skinned man clearly the one stared at the boy. Slowly, veins popped on his forehead like worms under pressure. He stood up, cracked his neck, and in one motion, grabbed Fu HongJun by the collar and hoisted him up like a stuffed dumpling.

“Hey, brat! Who the hell is ‘Uncle Black’?! My name is Qin An! And this,” he pointed to his skin with great pride, “this is not black. This is natural beauty! Understand?!”

Fu HongJun, floating like a flag, whimpered.
“Uncle, s-sorry! The dean didn’t tell me your name, so I thought... maybe... it was Uncle Black. He said to tell you to assign me to the senior branch,” he muttered with puppy eyes.

Meanwhile, deep inside Fu HongJun’s sea of consciousness, a pair of glowing, wicked eyes flickered. Emperor Ye sat cross-legged on a dark lotus, watching the exchange with mild amusement. His voice echoed like thunder in a cave.

“Hmph. Merely an ant dares to bully my disciple? Fine. Let me curse him... may his hairline retreat faster than a rogue cultivator’s honor…..”

Had anyone heard the incantation he muttered next, they would’ve cried while instinctively covering their vital bits and running for their lives.

Back in the real world, Qin An suddenly shivered. His scalp tingled like his follicles sensed danger.

He dropped Fu HongJun unceremoniously.
“Name?” he barked, shaking it off.

Landing on his rear with a thud, Fu HongJun winced. Rubbing his butt, he blinked and asked:

“Uncle Blac. uh, Uncle Qin, what did you say?”

“NAME!!!”
“Fu HongJun!”
“Age?”
“Six years old!”
“Gender?” Qin An squinted. “You better not be a girl with a boy’s haircut. You smell like trouble.”

Qin An grumbled something under his breath, then pulled out a stone plate, picked up a carving knife, and inscribed on it with a loud scritch-scritch:

Senior Branch – Fu HongJun

Qin An handed it over with a malicious grin

“Here. Take this to the middle field. Find a woman in a black training suit. Name’s Grandma Yang. Give it to her.”

Fu HongJun bowed politely, grabbed the nameplate, and ran like his shoes were on fire.