At the same time, elsewhere in Nuoding Academy, Ben Dover was lying on his back in a pile of hay behind the dorms, staring up at the clouds with a dumb, satisfied grin. Life was good. No more hauling heavy buckets from the river every morning. No more fish guts. No more aching shoulders.
It had been six months since the whole "spirit bone" incident—though only Ben knew what really happened. And ever since then, things had been smooth sailing. His first spirit skill, Core Pulse, had drastically accelerated his cultivation. Not only that, but by keeping his Martial Soul active twenty-four-seven—a thing no normal spirit master could even imagine doing—his body kept refining itself, strengthening with time. That meant no more relying on brute force training like carrying water buckets. His legs, especially his calves, had already gotten a solid foundation from those days.
Nowadays, the stipend from Spirit Hall covered his basic needs. He didn't need to hustle for coin anymore. So he did what he was best at: absolutely nothing. Just lying around like a salted fish, cultivating by breathing and existing.
Ben was now nine years old, and while his spirit power had grown leaps and bounds, his appearance… not so much.
His face? Average. Perfectly average. Round cheeks, a plain nose, no angular jawline or princely features. Rugged, maybe, if you squinted. At 4'2", he wasn't tall either, just… modest. His hair was messy, black like soot, and his eyes were the same dull black, with none of that usual "mysterious transmigrator gleam" you'd expect in a fantasy protagonist.
If someone lined up all the boys in Dorm 7 and asked who the main character was, nobody would pick Ben. Hell, even Ben wouldn't pick Ben.
He sighed dramatically, one arm resting on his forehead. "Why is it in all those novels, the transmigrated protagonist ends up tall, handsome, and surrounded by girls? And me? I got calves and a spirit skill that makes me sweat harder in my sleep. Haiz… life is hard."
But still, as he felt the ever-present pulse of energy flowing steadily through his body—refining, strengthening, pushing him forward—he had to admit…
Hard as it was, it was a good life.
As Ben lay sprawled across a sun-warmed haystack near Dorm 7, staring into the clouds like they might spell out the secrets of life, a familiar voice shattered his reverie.
"Ben! Get your lazy butt down here!" Wang Sheng called from below, sounding half annoyed, half excited. "We got a new kid. Dorm rules—you gotta defend your spot."
Ben groaned, rolling onto his side like a salted fish reluctantly remembering it used to be a living creature. "Right… dorm rules," he muttered, brushing stray bits of straw from his shirt.
He stretched lazily, then dropped down from his perch and walked toward the dorm, his steps unhurried.
Inside, a small group of students had gathered. At their center stood a young boy—perhaps six years old—with a quiet, composed air. His dark blue robes were simple but clean, and his eyes, deeper than his age would suggest, held a calm confidence. His black hair was neatly tied back, and his posture was already refined—almost like someone raised in a clan with discipline drilled in from birth.
"This is Tang San," Wang Sheng introduced, arms crossed. "He's six years old, and he's just joined Nuoding Academy today. Spirit power—level 10."
Tang San bowed politely. "Hello. I'm Tang San. I hope we can all get along."
Ben raised an eyebrow. "Ben Dover. Nine years old. Spirit power… level 19."
Gasps rippled through the dorm.
Wang Sheng leaned toward Tang San. "Dorm 7's tradition is simple: strongest leads. Ben's been the boss for a while now. If you wanna challenge him, speak up."
Tang San blinked. "That won't be necessary. I'm not here to fight anyone—just to learn."
Ben gave a lazy shrug. "Good. I'm not really in the mood to smack a kid right now anyway."
Just as the tension began to dissipate, the dorm door slammed open with a bang, making everyone jump.
A girl strode in with the confidence of a queen returning to her palace.
She looked about the same age as Tang San—six, maybe seven—but carried herself with the casual arrogance of someone who'd already decided the world owed her something. Her long scorpion braid bounced with every step, and her big watery eyes swept the room like she owned the place. Dressed in a simple pink outfit, she had a little pouch tied to her hip and a carrot tucked into it for reasons no one dared question.
"I'm here for Dorm 7!" she declared.
Ben blinked. "Another one?"
Tang San stepped back instinctively. Wang Sheng groaned. "Oh no…"
Xiao Wu planted her hands on her hips. "Alright, who's the boss here? Rules are rules—if I want this dorm, I gotta beat you up first, right?"
She glanced around until her eyes landed on Ben, who looked up from a cracked peanut he'd just started nibbling. "You?"
Ben chewed slowly, then sighed. "I don't even get five minutes of peace, do I?"
Wang Sheng tried to explain. "He's the dorm boss, yeah, but—"
Before he could finish, Xiao Wu had already cracked her knuckles. "Good! Let's fight!"
Tang San raised a hand hesitantly. "Maybe we shouldn't…"
Ben waved him off with a grin. "Nah, it's fine. I'll go easy."
"Go easy?" Xiao Wu pouted. "That's rude! Fight me seriously!"
Ben gave her a once-over. "You sure you're not in the wrong dorm? This is for work-study students, not rabid bunny."
Xiao Wu's cheeks puffed up. "You'll regret saying that, round face!"
"…R-Round face?" Ben repeated, his smile twitching as he was rubbing his cheeks. "Okay. I take it back. I will fight seriously."