The academy campus was wrapped in a pale layer of morning fog, the pathways filled with students heading toward the exam hall with books clutched in their hands.
Lian walked to the exam hall as usual. The only difference was that his friends weren't there with him this time. Back when the four of them were in same class, at least two of them would usually end up sitting close enough to exchange answers during exams.
Lian was in Class D, a place where most people did everything except study. Even if he wanted to copy, he couldn't trust that what he was copying was actually the right answer.
This time was different.
He had studied. Well… studied the questions from the papers he stole, at least.
Lian wasn't particularly gifted academically, nor did he care much about exams. Even when he managed to steal exam papers in his previous life, he usually only skimmed through them the night before.
But this time he had spent more time on it than usual.
After all, he was planning to move up.
After receiving the question paper, Lian calmly looked at all questions.
A faint smirk appeared on his face.
Yeah… every single question. Exactly the same as the one I stole.
He leaned back for a moment, then started answering them one by one.
While the rest of Class D struggled, whispering and trying to copy from each other, Lian wrote steadily at a calm pace.
The exam still had an hour left, but he was already done.
Without rushing, he stood up, handed in his paper, and walked out of the hall.
The same thing repeated for the rest of the exams. Lian would finish early, submit his paper, then use the remaining time to revise the questions for the next subject.
Eventually, the exam period ended.
The campus slowly returned to its usual rhythm as regular classes resumed.
PE class started the same way it always did.
Running.
Lian jogged behind the others as the instructor barked orders across the training field. Students from Class D moved in uneven lines, some taking it seriously, others barely pretending to try. After a few laps came the usual drills, formation runs, endurance exercises, and basic combat movements meant to strengthen the body.
Physical conditioning mattered.
Ether refinement relied heavily on the condition of the body that carried it.
After the drills were over, the instructor gathered everyone on the training ground.
"You should all understand something clearly," he said, looking across the group. "You must reach Sequence-2 before the second year ends."
A few students groaned quietly.
"The difficulty grows exponentially," the instructor continued. "Ascending from Sequence-1 to Sequence-2 can usually be done within a year if your foundations are solid. But Sequence-2 to Sequence-3 often takes three years or more."
He paused for a moment.
"So even if reaching Sequence-2 sounds impossible right now, you should still aim for it. At the very least, reach middle or peak stage of Sequence-2 before graduation. That alone can secure you a respectable position in the military."
After that, the class moved into cultivation practice.
Students sat down across the field in rows, legs crossed in meditation positions. The wrist-watch devices each of them wore began taking readings, quietly monitoring their ether activity.
Half of Class D had already reached Sequence-1 peak stage, and a few were beginning attempts at forming their ether core.
Small ether crystals were handed out, allowing students to replenish their ether whenever they ran low during refinement.
Normal refinement was straightforward. It was the gradual process of strengthening and smoothing the ether pathways, moving from initial stage to middle stage, then from middle stage to peak stage.
Ascending, however, was different.
Once the core formation process began, it could not be stopped.
Interrupting it midway could damage the ether pathways, affecting a person's aptitude permanently. In the worst cases, the damage could prevent them from ever reaching Sequence-2 again.
Because of that risk, students attempting ascension were required to report to the faculty beforehand.
They would then be placed in a specialized room equipped with monitoring arrays and stabilization equipment, with trained faculty present to intervene if something started going wrong.
The goal was simple.
Stop the process before irreversible damage occurred.
Across the training field, students quietly refined their ether while the devices on their wrists recorded every fluctuation. Meanwhile, the instructor continued walking between the rows, occasionally giving pointers.
Right now, Lian sat among the others, quietly refining his ether.
He was trying to push from middle stage to peak stage, circulating ether through his pathways again and again.
Yet the progress was painfully slow.
Despite the effort he put in, the readings on his wrist device barely moved.
Around him, many students were already far ahead. Quite a few had already reached Sequence-2, and even in Class D, around half of them had reached Sequence-1 peak stage and were beginning preparations for ascension.
Lian opened his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly.
Figures.
When he first arrived in this body, he had managed to move from initial stage to middle stage in just one week.
The previous Lian had already completed nearly ninety percent of the work before the transmigration happened. He had been on the verge of breaking through. All Lian really did was push through the remaining ten percent.
That was why it had seemed so fast.
Now that he had to progress on his own, the difference in aptitude became painfully obvious.
People often said having low aptitude was a curse.
A curse that could quietly lock someone out of Sequence-2 forever.
Lian wasn't the type to curse his fate or complain about the cards he was dealt. Complaining about things you couldn't change was just wasted time.
Adapt. Solve the problem. Move forward.
Still, the numbers weren't encouraging.
At this rate, he might not even reach Sequence-1 peak stage before the combat exams, let alone ascend to Sequence-2.
And that was a problem.
Even if he scored a perfect 100 in the written exams, it wouldn't matter much if he lost in the practical combat tests.
Most of the opponents he would face there would already be Sequence-2 or at least Sequence-1 peak stage.
The PE period soon ended and the students began walking back to their classrooms.
Along the way, Lian could hear conversations all around him. Some students were excited, talking about how they were close to reaching Sequence-2. Others sounded nervous, worried they might mess up during core formation and cripple themselves. Their friends tried to reassure them, saying things would be fine if they followed the process carefully.
One student glanced at Lian and asked, "You nervous? You'll probably be attempting ascension soon too."
Before Lian could respond, one of Kair's lackeys walked up from behind and snorted.
"He doesn't need to worry about that," the guy said loudly. "With his aptitude, he'll never even reach that point anyway."
A few other joined in, throwing mocking remarks.
Couple nearby students laughed.
They were the type who enjoyed picking on people weaker than them.
Lian didn't pay them much attention.
He simply replied, "Why don't you say that after you actually become Sequence-2? Who knows… you might be the one stuck while I get there first."
The group burst out laughing.
"Delusional," one of them said.
"Yeah, keep living in your fantasies."
A few girls walking past glanced at the scene. Some whispered to each other as they passed, a couple of them even laughing quietly.
Lian didn't mind people thinking little of him, as much as possible he wants to appear ordinary and a non threat. And as for the reputation, he never bothered about it.
Of course, he could mock them back if he wanted to. He could easily provoke them into a fight and deal with all of them at once single handedly.
Not because he was stronger.
But because he was invisible now.
Activate the rune. Disappear. Strike from angles they couldn't even see.
If you can't even see your enemy, strength meant nothing. They would just be attacking the air.
But still Lian didn't do it.
Fighting them would be easy.
Explaining it afterwards wouldn't be.
If things escalated and he ended up in the principal's office, he could simply say they started it first.
But what he couldn't explain… was the rune.
Where he got an invisibility rune. Why a student had access to something like that.
He could claim he built it himself and even show the design.
But that would only raise more questions.
Because a rune like that was bit too advanced for one person to develop — especially a student.
So Lian kept walking, ignoring the laughter behind him.
Lian had already learned one rule— no matter the world, the less people that knew about your strength, the longer you survived.
And as long as he stayed inside this system, power struggles would keep shaping his life.
He had seen how that played out before.
In his previous world, he'd stolen millions in different currencies and crypto. It didn't matter. Governments were shifting to programmable digital currencies and cracking down on crypto—everything he had, it was all becoming worthless.
You can't win in a game in which some people gets to change rules mid game. When ever and how ever they want.
And there was no point in hating the bullies, the principal, or even those who controlled the system. The system was just a reflection of human desire—be it for power or benefits or resources.
Real freedom belonged only to those who stepped outside it.