While Lyra successfully commandeered half of Julian's high-quality bedding, Julian himself remained the picture of awkwardness. He was a boy caught between the pride of his past life and the crushing poverty of his current one.
Leo, despite his face being a colorful map of purple and blue bruises, wasn't about to let a few aches stop him from eating. He stood up and announced loudly, "It's lunchtime. Let's head to the canteen!"
Caleb, who had been surviving on dry rations and lukewarm water since dawn, felt his stomach rumble in agreement. "Good idea. I'd like to see the rest of the campus anyway."
Julian's head dropped. He had no money; every bronze his father, Tang Hao, earned from smithing was swallowed by jars of cheap ale. He had spent his life hungry, and he didn't expect the academy to be any different. "You guys go ahead," he said flatly. "I've got some coarse bread I can finish."
Lyra hesitated too. "Do we... need Spirit Coins to eat there?"
Leo paused, looking from Julian to Lyra. It took him a moment to realize that the two most powerful geniuses in the room were also the poorest. Gritting his teeth against the "pain" of his thinning wallet, he slapped his chest. "Come on. The first two days are on me. Consider it a celebration for the new blood in Seven Dorm!"
Lyra cheered, her energy returning in an instant. "Hooray!"
Julian looked at her, then at Leo's earnest face. "Thank you," he whispered.
The work-study students moved as a pack. In a place like Notting Academy, walking alone was an invitation for trouble. As they trekked across the courtyard, Leo glanced at Caleb and scratched his head. "Hey, Caleb... how is it that your bruises are already gone? Are you made of rubber or something?"
Caleb looked at Leo's still-swollen eye. He wasn't about to explain the regenerative properties of a Level 2 Blue Silver Grass. "Maybe you just went easy on me, Leo. I'm a quick healer."
Leo knew he hadn't held back, but he didn't press the issue. Caleb kept his secrets close; in the Soul Land, a hidden card was a life saved.
The canteen was a massive two-story building designed to feed three hundred students and faculty. As the group entered, the air was thick with the scent of fried meats and steamed grains. It was a lively place, but the atmosphere soured the moment a voice sneered from the stairs.
"Tch. Look at that. It's Leo and his pack of street rats."
The speaker was a boy of about twelve, handsome in a cold, sharp way. He stood on the landing between the first and second floors, looking down with eyes full of undisguised contempt. He was a textbook antagonist, the kind of boy who mistook his father's wealth for his own strength.
Lyra, who had spent a lifetime as the "Big Sister" of the Star Dou Forest, wasn't the type to take an insult quietly—especially not from someone who looked like he'd melt in a real forest. She stepped forward, hands on her hips. "Who let the mad dog off its leash?"
The boy's eyes lit up. He ignored the insult, his gaze raking over Lyra with an appreciative, arrogant smirk. "Quite a cute little rabbit. Leo, I'll let you slide today. We'll find a better time to 'get acquainted'." He laughed, leading his clique up toward the luxury of the second floor.
Lyra bristled, ready to chase him, but Leo caught her arm. "Big Sister Lyra, stop. The second floor is for private orders. It's incredibly expensive. We can't afford to breathe the air up there, let alone eat the food."
Lyra didn't understand money, but she understood Leo's worry. She settled down, though she kept a murderous eye on the stairs.
Nearby, Julian spotted Silas walking toward the entrance. He bowed deeply, calling out, "Teacher!" Silas gestured for Julian to join him on the second floor, but Julian glanced back at Lyra and the others, shaking his head and staying with the dorm.
When Julian returned, Leo whispered urgently, "Julian, you shouldn't call him 'Teacher.' He's not a staff member. He's just a 'Grandmaster' Guest Elder—basically a squatter who eats for free. Sucking up to him won't get you anywhere."
Julian's gaze turned cold enough to freeze water. "Leo. He is my Master. If you disrespect him again, do not blame me for being unkind."
Without another word, Julian turned and walked out of the canteen, his hunger forgotten in the face of the insult to his mentor. Leo stood there, baffled. "What a weirdo! I was trying to help him!"
Caleb watched the drama unfold in silence. He wasn't interested in the politics of the Grandmaster; he was interested in the menu.
He noticed that while most self-funded students ate on the first floor, they still ate better than the work-study kids. A meat dish cost four to six bronze; a vegetable dish was one or two. Rice or porridge was another bronze. For a student earning only ten bronze a day, a meat dish was a luxury they could only afford once or twice a week.
Caleb reached into his pouch, pulling out six bronze coins. He ordered a simple meal of one meat and one vegetable. To the other work-study kids, who were staring at his plate with longing, he looked like a prince. Caleb ate quickly, fueling his body for what came next.
Back in the dorm, after a tour of the classrooms and their designated cleaning area (the south garden), the other students settled into meditation. They knew the stakes: they had six years to reach Rank 10 and become true Spirit Masters, or they would be cast out back into the mud of the villages.
Caleb sat cross-legged on his bed. He didn't have a formal meditation manual yet, but he had something better. He focused his mind, calling up the "Deep Blue" panel.
His eyes locked onto the line: [Spirit Power: Rank 3 (54%) +].
He reached out with his will, touching the (+).
[Would you like to increase Spirit Power? (Yes/No)]
Caleb visualized the "Yes."
The world inside his body exploded. Every drop of spirit power he possessed was suddenly seized by an invisible force. It surged through his meridians like a stampede of dragons, burning hot and unstoppable as the system forced his boundaries to expand.
Caleb gritted his teeth, his toasted skin shimmering with a faint emerald light. He wasn't just cultivating; he was being reconstructed.