Yuliana tilted chin, a confident smile unfurling across lips. “Mr. Chance, perhaps you are unaware… In Celestia, scholarship is no mere ornament. The very act of reading, of testing reason against scripture, polishes the spirit so finely that heaven’s spiritual energy answers twice as readily. Every academy compound houses a training arena. We study, then we cultivate, and our strength should not be belittled.”
At that moment, the bronze bell in the academy boomed, its note deep enough to rattle the paving stones. From lecture halls on every side, students poured out in orderly lines and streamed toward the distant training arena.
Jared’s eyes sparked with genuine interest-or something very close to it, as turned to Yuliana. “Ms. Fiala, if that is so, would you allow me a glimpse of these students in action? I would be honored to see the marriage of book and blade.”
Yuliana hesitated just long enough for the breeze to tug at the purple tassel in hair, then inclined head with gracious composure. “Very well… Follow me, Mr. Chance…”
They stepped onto the wide stone terrace that ringed the training arena. Inside, several dozen students were showcasing their divine power.
One youth was wreathed in gold divine markings that spun from his skin and hardened the surrounding air into razor-thin blades. Another chanted under his breath until the field buckled, a tunnel of raw spatial energy whipping up a savage wind.
Each movement linked to the next with liquid precision, and where pairs trained together, their timing had the inevitability of rehearsed music, clearly the fruit of long, disciplined hours.
Jared allowed his mouth to part in polite awe, yet behind the mild expression, numbers and patterns tumbled through his mind.
These youngsters do rank high among their peers, but their forms are rigid, beautiful, and predictable. Confronted with an opponent of equal power who fights like smoke and shadow, they would have no answer…
While watched, Jared engaged Yuliana in soft conversation, letting careless-sounding compliments disguise questions as sharp as needles.
When touched on Celestia’s governance, or the celebrated Roaring Storm Bell recently stolen, appeared half-dreaming, yet tucked every fact into a private ledger. She, however, had come prepared, each answer gleamed like a sealed bottle, impossible to pry open.
Suddenly, a young man in a cobalt academic robe noticed them and strode over, boots ringing on the marble.
At his waist hung an emerald badge carved with the single character Gale, and his handsome features carried the effortless arrogance of hereditary privilege.
He halted before Yuliana, offered a scholarly salute, and said in a voice warm enough for court yet loud enough for the crowd. “Lady Fiala, what brings you to the training arena today?”
Even as spoke, his eyes cut toward Jared, edges of steel that measured and dismissed in the blink of an eye.
Yuliana answered with a faint, unreadable smile, “This is Jared Chance, newly arrived from level five. I am showing the academy.”
She then turned to Jared and introduced, “This is Westley Gale, son of Lord Gale.”
The mention of level five twisted Westley Gale’s mouth into a smirk so thin it almost vanished.
He inclined his head toward Jared, just enough to satisfy etiquette, not enough to signify respect. “Ah, a visitor from level five… That explains why your face is unfamiliar. Do recall, Mr. Chance, that this academy is sacred ground. Tourists are generally not invited to roam where they please.”
To him, Jared was merely a cultivator at Earthly Immortal Realm Level One from a lesser realm, hardly worth a complete sentence.
Yuliana watched the exchange with a smile that never quite settled, half amusement, half experiment, content to see Westley apply pressure and chart how Jared would bend.
Sensing tacit approval, Westley raised his voice so the surrounding students could enjoy the show. “Mr. Chance, your curiosity appears boundless. Allow me to remind you that our academy teaches ancient inheritance principles woven from the very laws of nature…”
“Compared with the depth of divine souls, the crude techniques of level five barely scratch the surface. Even if you were permitted to stay, the texts would likely read as riddles to you.”
The words glittered with self-satisfaction, but every facet was meant to cut.
The surrounding students, hearing the commotion, paused their cultivation. One by one, they drifted closer, eyes bright with the promise of entertainment.
Jared answered with an easy smile, “Mr. Gale, you miss the point… Knowledge is valuable only when it meets the hand and the hour, not when it dazzles from a high shelf…”
“A moment ago, I leafed through several volumes in your library. Page after page sang of the celestials’ glory, and the baseness of all others, yet not a single line addressed the true balance between divine soul and spiritual energy. For knowledge so proudly blind, I would prefer ignorance.”
