At the academy, working-class students were required to complete chores to earn bronze soul coins for food and board. Failure to do so could result in expulsion.
Of course, there was another option—pay like the nobles. For 10 gold spirit coins per year, students could have a private room and be exempt from chores. Naturally, we chose the latter.
The academy provided meals in a two-tiered cafeteria. The first floor offered basic, affordable meals, while the second floor featured higher-quality food, including spirit beast ingredients from 10-year-old spirit beasts and plants. While nothing extravagant, the food was more nutritious, contained more meat, and provided slight benefits for cultivation.
Our group stood out from the rest. Well-dressed, wealthy, and undeniably powerful, we carried ourselves differently from the average student. The school only knew that each of us had innate full spirit power, but we had kept our actual spirit rings and cultivation levels hidden—if they knew the truth, they would be shocked.
Daily Routine at the Academy
Mornings: We started the day with extra meditation, refining our cultivation before classes.
Noon: Classes covered fundamentals—spirit masters, spirit rings, and spirit beasts. It was mostly basic knowledge, nothing particularly advanced.
Afternoons: After classes, we engaged in physical training and Qi/spirit control exercises, further honing our combat abilities.
Evenings: The day ended with another round of meditation, reinforcing our progress.
While the academy's teachings were useful for most students, our real growth came from our own training regimen, one far beyond the standard curriculum.
Just like that, several years passed.
Meanwhile, in the Star Luo Empire…
At Star Luo Academy, Zhu Zhuqing was living through a nightmare.
Completely isolated by her peers due to her older sister's influence, she was treated like an outcast. No one spoke to her. No one helped her. The imitation training grounds were off-limits, her cultivation resources were meager, and worst of all—her fiancé had abandoned her.
Her sister took great joy in reminding her of this every time they met.
For an eight-year-old girl, this life was cruel beyond words.
However, one day, everything changed.
On her desk, a book, a small box, and a letter had appeared out of nowhere.
The letter was simple:
"If you need someone to talk to, just write in the journal, and I'll write back. Keep the box—it's very useful."
There was no name or signature.
Curious, Zhu Zhuqing opened the box—but it was empty. Then she opened the journal—also empty.
She hesitated before picking up a pen and writing:
"Who are you?"
To her shock, the words sank into the page—then, new words appeared in response.
"Hello, my name is Ryan. Nice to meet you."
Ryan? She didn't know anyone by that name at the academy.
Yet, from that moment on, Zhu Zhuqing was no longer alone.
She had someone to write to—someone who listened. Over time, she poured her heart onto those pages, confiding in Ryan about everything:
How her sister tormented her.
How she felt completely alone.
How her fiancé abandoned her, and the cruel fight for the throne within the Star Luo Empire.
In their empire, only one child from the Dai and Zhu families could inherit the throne. The other? They would end up dead or crippled.
She was afraid. She didn't want to die.
But Ryan reassured her.
"You'll be fine. Just keep training."
And so, she did.
However, as the years passed, things only got worse.
Her sister's cruelty intensified. News of her fiancé reached her—he spent his days drinking, wasting away in brothels, neglecting his training. He had become a complete disgrace.
When Zhu Zhuqing heard this, she nearly broke down completely.
If not for one thing—Ryan.
He was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
She didn't care about the Star Luo throne. She didn't care about power struggles.
She just wanted to survive.
As time passed, a dangerous thought began to take root in Zhu Zhuqing's mind—escape.
She could no longer endure this miserable existence. Every day, her sister's torment grew worse. The academy was nothing but a cage, suffocating her, reminding her of the fate waiting for her if she stayed.
She had no allies. No future. No hope.
But she did have Ryan.
One evening, her hands trembled as she picked up her pen, the ink smudging slightly from her grip. For the first time, she put her thoughts into words.
"Ryan, I can't stay here anymore. I don't care where I go, I just have to get away. I need to escape." Her heart pounded as the words sank into the page.
A moment later, a response appeared.
"I understand. If you're truly ready to leave, I can help. I have a solution—a Portkey. With it, you can teleport directly to me. You'll be safe."
Zhu Zhuqing's breath hitched.
A Portkey?
A way to instantly escape this nightmare?
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Ryan had been her only source of comfort for years. He had been her support, her guide, her friend. The idea of finally meeting him, of finally being free, filled her with an emotion she hadn't felt in so long—hope.
She gripped the journal tightly, closing her eyes.
Then, she wrote back.
"I'll do it."
Ryan's next words were simple.
"Then pack your things. I'll send it soon."
Zhu Zhuqing didn't hesitate. That very night, she gathered everything she owned—which wasn't much. A few sets of clothes, the small gifts Ryan had sent over the years, and a handful of cultivation resources she had managed to keep.
Her fingers brushed over the worn leather cover of the journal, the one thing that had kept her sane all this time.
She clutched it close to her chest, a determined gleam in her eyes.
No more waiting.
No more suffering.
Tomorrow, she would leave this place forever.