East Sea Academy loomed in the distance like a fortress of knowledge and cultivation. Its sky-reaching towers, sprawling courtyards, and polished white halls radiated the disciplined beauty of a school built not just to teach, but to forge legends.
Su Yang stood beside Qiang Ming at the academy's outer gate. The sun glinted off her golden hair as she handed him a thin, black envelope sealed with her personal crest.
"This is your recommendation letter. Don't lose it," she said, folding her arms.
Qiang Ming accepted the letter wordlessly, his purple eyes calm as ever.
She smirked, tilting her head. "You're not nervous?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Then you should be. Socializing with other kids your age… that might be harder than forging starsteel."
"I'd rather spar."
"Exactly why I'm sending you here." She stepped closer, voice low. "You're going to lead the Clear Flow Clan one day. Power is essential—but so is connection. People. Emotions. Bonds. If you only train in silence, you'll one day be surrounded by followers who respect your strength but don't understand your heart."
Qiang Ming nodded slowly.
Su Yang gave his shoulder a firm pat. "Try to enjoy it. Make enemies. Make friends. Just don't flatten everyone on the first day."
She turned to leave.
He called after her, "Thank you, Teacher."
She didn't turn, only raised a hand in farewell.
The campus buzzed with energy. Students wearing the uniform of the East Sea Academy—a deep blue tunic with silver trim—moved in small groups, chatting, laughing, comparing soul rings and spirit beasts. Qiang Ming stood out the moment he stepped onto the grounds.
His black robes, tailored and embroidered with silver threads, contrasted with the more standard uniforms. The emblem stitched on the left side of his short jacket—a white hammer outlined in blue—marked his lineage unmistakably.
The Clear Flow Clan.
It still held weight in East Sea City, if only through reputation and wealth.
He walked in silence, drawing glances as he passed. Some curious. Others cautious. He ignored them, focused instead on taking in the layout: dorm halls, training fields, spirit zones, the indoor coliseum.
In truth, he didn't mind the solitude.
It was familiar.
Room 307, Dormitory West.
He entered, expecting a moment of quiet. Instead, he was greeted by a wall of sound.
"Move your crap, Sugei!"
"You threw it on my bed, Wei!"
"No, I—wait, who's that?"
Three boys turned to face him.
The first, Ye Sugei, was tall and broad, with spiky brown hair and a thick jaw. He crossed his arms like a thug. The second, Xi Xan, had sharp eyes, long limbs, and a perpetual scowl. The third, We Wei, wore rings on every finger and looked like he practiced his smirk in the mirror.
All three were clearly Power-type Soul Masters. Qiang Ming could feel it from their aura alone.
Sugei was the first to scoff. "What, the noble heir finally arrives?"
Xi Xan snorted. "Looks soft."
We Wei grinned. "Looks rich. Think he'll share the bathhouse?"
Qiang Ming calmly placed his bag on his bed, glanced at the plaque above it, then looked at the three of them.
"You're all idiots," he said flatly.
The room fell silent.
"Say that again?" Sugei stepped forward, voice rising.
"I said," Qiang Ming repeated, pulling his jacket off and placing it on the hook by his bed, "You're idiots."
We Wei cracked his knuckles. "You think your little clan emblem means anything to us? You think you're better than us just because you're—"
BOOOOM.
The wall exploded.
Outside, the Academy Principal, an elderly man with a long white beard and eagle-like gaze, was walking his daily inspection route when he heard the unmistakable WONG! of soul force colliding with stone.
CRACK!
A massive section of wall burst outward in a cloud of dust, followed by the airborne forms of Ye Sugei, Xi Xan, and We Wei, spiraling like ragdolls.
The principal blinked.
"...Again?" he muttered.
He calmly stepped forward, caught the three boys mid-air with a spirit net, and set them down on the grass—groaning, dazed, and very much unconscious.
He turned toward the gaping hole in the wall.
There stood Qiang Ming, his massive hammer resting across his shoulders, one hand gripping the hilt, his body perfectly relaxed.
His first yellow soul ring glowed brightly beneath his feet.
And on his face... a smirk.