Seris Velan had been wandering the outskirts of Cloudy Astral Mountain for several days, now a part of the vast expanse known as the Astral Ridge.
During his journey, he came across various astral herbs glowing faintly under the starlit skies. Occasionally, he transplanted one or two into his personal astral dimension, a space connected to his soul. He had even casually brought in a shimmering astral fruit—similar to raspberries, but pulsing with celestial light—one of his personal favorites.
Whenever he had a moment to himself, Seris would enter the astral dimension to stroll around. He often found himself examining the plants, running his hands through their ethereal leaves and marveling at their growth. Yet, in this astral world, he found little need for physical labor. No weeding, watering, or soil tilling was necessary—the environment sustained itself in a perfect balance, leaving him with little to do but observe.
The astral wheat and star-grain crops he had planted matured in just five days, their luminous stalks bending under the weight of radiant grains.
However, harvesting the half-acre proved more challenging than he expected. Within the astral dimension, Seris existed as a projection of his consciousness, where every action had to be willed into existence. To pick something up, he had to focus his thoughts entirely on it, or his hand would pass right through.
Though it was initially fun to make the sickle float and cut the crops with his mind, the mental effort quickly drained him. After cutting a mere ten plants, he felt completely exhausted, as though he had been battling his way through trials for days. He collapsed onto the astral ground and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Only after several hours did he recover his strength.
Determined, he adopted a more methodical approach, harvesting in smaller increments, resting after every thirty plants. By the time he finished harvesting the entire field, he had to return to the waking world and sleep again to fully recover.
"Huh? Why has it regrown?" Seris was astonished when he returned to find the crops he had just cut sprouting again, already standing over five inches tall. "Does this mean I don't need to plant them again?"
His surprise turned into a sigh of relief. He had planned to replant them but realized the astral crops regrew on their own, saving him the effort.
In the days that followed, Seris enjoyed a life of serenity. He harvested astral grains every five days, sometimes wandering deeper into the Astral Ridge.
The celestial space slowly filled with luminous fungi and herbs, including a rare Starcap Mushroom. Occasionally, he brought his younger brother with him to explore the wild astral landscapes. His brother, who always had an appetite for adventure, finally got his wish—enjoying feasts under astral skies.
Beyond the serenity of his personal space, the Astral Ridge was a dangerous place. A massive mountain range spanning light-years, its peaks and valleys twisted through nebulae and celestial storms. Rumors whispered of mythical astral creatures lurking in its darkest corners.
Some said they were divine beasts that could bend space itself, though no one had lived to confirm the tales. Astral Cloudy Mountain, now known as one of the lesser peaks of the Astral Ridge, was so named for the perpetual veil of stardust and celestial clouds that shrouded it.
Seris knew this, but for now, his life remained calm, bathed in the soft glow of the astral dimension.
At this moment, Mistveil City was bustling with life. Seris Velan had arrived two days earlier, and both he and his younger brother had changed noticeably from a few months ago. Seris' once thin and frail frame had filled out, his face now had a healthy glow, and he had grown taller as well.
Seris was currently feeling anxious, his eyes darting nervously around, avoiding prolonged eye contact with others. To a passerby unaware of his situation, it might seem as though he was up to no good, perhaps even a thief scouting for an opportunity to commit a crime.
In reality, Seris was simply uneasy because he was carrying a substantial amount of money—over thirty astral taels. He had never seen such a fortune in his life.
Not long ago, Seris had harvested eight ten-year-old Astral Ginseng plants from his dimension and sold them to eight different apothecaries. This had earned him a total of thirty-two astral taels. Despite the security offered by his personal space, the prying eyes in the city had made him too cautious to store the silver there for the time being.
The oldest ginseng plants in his astral dimension had already reached ten years of age, and new seedlings had sprouted from unharvested seeds. Every time Seris thought about the valuable medicinal material growing in his space, he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement, often flipping through the air in delight.
Compared to the ginseng, the astral wheat and rice growing on his half-acre plot were less valuable, but Seris couldn't bring himself to replace them just yet.
These astral grains had begun to undergo a unique mutation. Their growth period had extended by a day, the plants grew taller, and the grains were twice the size of ordinary rice and wheat. The taste was also superior, and after consuming them, he felt a surge of boundless energy. Deciding they were worth holding onto for now, Seris let them continue growing.
Once back at the inn, Seris closed the doors and windows tightly, took the silver from his pouch, and placed it on the table. His younger brother eagerly joined him, eyes gleaming with excitement. They took turns weighing the silver ingot and even bit one to test its authenticity.
At this moment, Mistveil City was bustling with life. Seris Velan had arrived two days earlier, and both he and his younger brother had changed noticeably from a few months ago. Seris' once thin and frail frame had filled out, his face now had a healthy glow, and he had grown taller as well.
Seris was currently feeling anxious, his eyes darting nervously around, avoiding prolonged eye contact with others. To a passerby unaware of his situation, it might seem as though he was up to no good, perhaps even a thief scouting for an opportunity to commit a crime.
In reality, Seris was simply uneasy because he was carrying a substantial amount of money—over thirty astral taels. He had never seen such a fortune in his life.
Not long ago, Seris had harvested eight ten-year-old Astral Ginseng plants from his dimension and sold them to eight different apothecaries. This had earned him a total of thirty-two astral taels. Despite the security offered by his personal space, the prying eyes in the city had made him too cautious to store the silver there for the time being.
The oldest ginseng plants in his astral dimension had already reached ten years of age, and new seedlings had sprouted from unharvested seeds. Every time Seris thought about the valuable medicinal material growing in his space, he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement, often flipping through the air in delight.
Compared to the ginseng, the astral wheat and rice growing on his half-acre plot were less valuable, but Seris couldn't bring himself to replace them just yet.
These astral grains had begun to undergo a unique mutation. Their growth period had extended by a day, the plants grew taller, and the grains were twice the size of ordinary rice and wheat. The taste was also superior, and after consuming them, he felt a surge of boundless energy. Deciding they were worth holding onto for now, Seris let them continue growing.
Once back at the inn, Seris closed the doors and windows tightly, took the silver from his pouch, and placed it on the table. His younger brother eagerly joined him, eyes gleaming with excitement. They took turns weighing the silver ingot and even bit one to test its authenticity.
"Dad! Is that also a form of astral martial arts?" a curious young teenager asked, looking up at his father as a thunderous voice echoed across the field.
"Of course! That's an astral skill known as the Celestial Lion's Roar. It's mainly used in astral formations to terrify and disorient enemies on the battlefield," his father replied, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Imagine two armies facing each other across the astral planes, and suddenly, dozens—no, hundreds—of warriors unleash this roar in unison. It would shake the stars themselves, followed by a barrage of ethereal arrows. The enemy would be paralyzed with fear."
The boy's eyes widened. "Can anyone learn it?"
"Not quite," his father chuckled. "Even if a common martial artist tried, it wouldn't have the same impact. This person is a true master, likely at the Innate Celestial Stage. He was once a general in the Astral Legion, leading troops through cosmic storms and nebulae battles. Now he's the head instructor at the Mistveil Heights Academy."
"What? We have someone like that in Ashford County?"
"Yes, but he's been injured—otherwise, someone of his caliber would never be stationed here in our small astral outpost."
Seris Velan and his brother finally made their way to the grand entrance along with the crowd. Before them stood a vigorous young man, his presence exuding raw energy. He was waving a shimmering crimson banner and calling out in a voice that seemed to ripple through the stardust in the air.
"All students of the Mistveil Heights Academy, gather here!"
In another direction, a more refined-looking man dressed in flowing robes of starlight called out to a different crowd, "All students of the Arcane Humanities Academy, come this way!"
Seris followed the throng of students being directed toward a massive astral field, a grand space surrounded by floating luminescent stones and hovering astral platforms. In the center was a raised dais, where about a dozen dignitaries sat, their eyes surveying the new arrivals. They wore robes adorned with celestial patterns, each representing a different domain of mastery.
Ahead of the platform, several tables were set up in neat rows, with individuals sitting behind each one. Beside them stood towering poles carved from astral wood, each glowing faintly. New students were lining up in front of the tables, and Seris and his younger brother soon found themselves in one such line.
As they approached the front, Seris quickly realized what the process involved. Each person was given a sandbag infused with star essence. The size of the bag was determined by their height relative to the celestial bamboo poles standing beside the tables. If a student was taller than the pole, they received a fifty-kilogram astral sandbag; if shorter, they were handed a thirty-kilogram one.
When Seris stepped forward, he couldn't help but feel a bit tense. He was just slightly taller than the bamboo pole, which meant he was handed the larger fifty-kilogram bag. It was heavy, pulsing with energy, but Seris braced himself, determined to carry it with pride.
His younger brother, on the other hand, was just short enough to qualify for the thirty-kilogram sandbag, which he took with visible relief. As they hefted their respective weights, Seris could feel the gravity of the challenge ahead, not just in the literal sense but in the journey they were about to embark on in the Astral Academy.
The field was now filled with students, each bearing their own astral sandbags, the weight representing the burdens they would carry as they trained to become masters of the celestial arts. The air hummed with anticipation as they prepared for the trials ahead.