Theron walked back to the academy with large strides the following morning, his thoughts churning.
After killing Merchant Greycoat, he had left in a hurry. Had he known that there was such a conspiracy behind the consecutive failures that preceded him, he would have definitely been more thorough.
Now, before he had even dealt with this problem, Teacher Fern had thrust another into his lap with her impulsiveness, and beneath all of that, there seemed to be yet another storm brewing related to the Sect.
Yonowai's mission was the only one he had gotten the full details of, but there were several other eyebrow-raising missions in the recent selections.
The real question was: how could he best take advantage of this?
There was always opportunity in chaos, and Theron's top priority was raising his cultivation realm as quickly as possible. But there seemed to be enough danger to put him in the eye of a storm he might want to get out of.
The fact the association was so quiet about Merchant Greycoat's death, even though this would supposedly bring trouble to him, was the more concerning.
Theron's steps came to a sudden stop. He looked up to find Sawyer blocking his path, and he couldn't help but frown inwardly.
Was this Thistle really so insistent on continuing to bother him? Was this "bullying"?
These sorts of childish games were the kind Theron had no time for. In fact, he was beginning to resent Sawyer for being so carefree.
He took a breath, tuning out what Sawyer was likely saying and recalling the same reminders again and again.
"… Look at me when I'm speaking to you!"
Sawyer's voice cut through with a wave of Mana that forced Theron out of his trance. The young man was already close to Silver Mancy. Comparatively speaking, Theron was far too weak before him.
A hand reached out and grabbed Theron's collar. The forcefulness made Theron's inner organs quake, the air being sapped from his lungs as he was almost lifted from his feet.
Sawyer was much older, and thus much taller than Theron. However, they looked eye to eye right this moment, Theron's toes barely grazing the ground.
It was rare for such a confrontation to happen in the Imperial Academy. The fact it was happening right at the gates only made it all the more eye-catching.
"You think you can just walk by without greeting your seniors? Who do you think you are?"
Theron's icy blue eyes met Sawyer's. At the moment, they were as tranquil as the calm surface of a lake. Despite the pain wracking his body, what fury there might have been had long been buried.
He could still remember the last look in each one of their eyes, imprinting themselves like droplets of rain soaking his soul.
He was not living for himself, for his vanity, for his pride. He was living for a purpose much higher than that.
When his goals were achieved, he could return and raze the Thistle Clan to the ground if that was what he so desired.
But right now…
He had no desires.
"How dare you?!"
A furious voice echoed like thunder. It rang like a bell, and one could almost see the phantom image of a rolling pin waving in the air.
Teacher Fern stormed over, and the ground rumbled.
"Unhand him. Now!"
Blood began to leak from Sawyer's ears. It was clear that as loud as her voice was, it was targeted and focused nonetheless.
Sawyer released on instinct. As close as he was to Silver Mancy, he was no match for a true Gold Mancy cultivator.
Theron landed steadily and took a step back.
"Do you know how hallowed this ground is? Do you have no respect for your own face as a senior, bullying your own junior? Do you have no thought for the rules of this academy?!"
Sawyer shook, feeling one part disarmed, another fearful, and yet another humiliated.
"Teacher, this—"
"You dare to speak back to me?! I'm stripping you of three credits—"
"WHAT?!" Sawyer's eyes practically bulged out of his sockets.
"SILENCE!"
The suppressive aura of a Gold Mancer pressed down on Sawyer so fiercely he almost kneeled. If not for her last bit of rationality, Teacher Fern truly would have gone so far.
"Three credits and your rights to become an Honors graduate have been stricken. You'll be under house arrest for the next week. Go!"
Sawyer's body trembled, and he clenched his fists. But unable to do anything, he could only walk away.
He had never been close to graduating with honors to begin with. He was in his third year, but he only had 25 credits… that had just become 22.
This was the largest blow by far.
For one's first year, you had to accumulate five credits to stay on track. But for the subsequent years, the bare minimum was seven. Three credits was almost half of what most would be able to accumulate in a year.
The worst part was that even though Sawyer was well ahead of this pace, the speed of accumulating credits plummeted the more you gathered. The classes became harder, and the grading became stricter.
Losing three credits suddenly only put his three credits ahead of the minimum 19 he would need to pass the third year. And half the year was already finished!
The loss of these three credits might not harm him for the third year, but it might be the reason he failed the fourth year or maybe his fifth year.
"This is the Imperial Academy," Teacher Fern growled, scanning the students. "This isn't your personal backyard, and it's a place where your own merits weigh the most heavily.
"You are the future of the Empire's government and military. If you act like this now, how will the people trust you with their lives in the future?"
Teacher Fern swept a glance over Theron that made his own flicker.
He sensed several things in that gaze.
Guilt was the main one, but there was a surprising hint of helplessness and resignation.
The next day, Theron found out why.
Teacher Fern was no longer teaching his class.