Ethan was asleep. Too many illogical things had happened; he was completely tired and in shock. But he knew he was about to walk the path he'd always desired, and all of this left him exhausted both physically and mentally. He slept for a long time.
Even though it was evening, he continued to sleep. That alone showed just how drained he was. Everything had happened so suddenly, and he hadn't been prepared. Considering his already weak body and heart, it was simply too much to take. So he slept peacefully.
After what felt like forever, the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Though Ethan was asleep, the constant motion of the vehicle had lulled him, so when it halted suddenly, it served as an alarm. He woke up immediately.
Even though he was now awake, he still felt half-asleep and sat in place to regain his comfort. As he rubbed his eyes, the carriage door opened. Ethan looked over and saw Jake standing there.
"Did you get a good rest, Little Brother?" Jake greeted him with a warm smile.
"Hmm," Ethan replied, mustering a weak smile in return.
"Then come out," Jake said. "We've reached our destination."
Ethan took a deep breath, got out of the carriage, and stretched his arms a bit. He wasn't a cultivator like Jake; his weak body became tired easily. After sleeping nearly ten hours, a good stretch was crucial.
He glanced around, taking in his new surroundings. Before him was a giant door—so massive and thick that even from a single glance, it was obvious that it was built to be formidable. At the entrance stood two disciples, stationed as guards.
"Stop! Verify your identities!" one of them demanded, his tone cold.
Jake stepped forward. "Relax, it's us."
The guard's icy demeanor melted away when he recognized Jake and his group. "So it's you, Brother Jake! And who's this new person?"
Jake grinned. "This is Ethan Hunt. He'll be making his debut with us."
Both guards nearly spat blood after hearing this. One look made it clear Ethan was nothing extraordinary—in fact, far from it. Fat, weak, drenched in pungent sweat; this "newcomer" seemed physically inferior even among mortals.
And Jake was bringing this useless man into their sect? What on earth was going on?
They had their doubts but understood it wasn't their place to interfere.
The second guard said, "Alright, but we'll need to take this person's details for registration."
"Fine," Jake agreed, handing over the goatskin scroll with Ethan's details. What surprised Ethan was seeing his data glow with a green light as the guard unrolled the registration scroll.
He had no idea by what magic or technique this phenomenon was being produced. Such things never happened on Earth, where everything relied on technology alone. The magical sight fascinated him instantly and sparked a desire to one day learn it as well. But as a fresh arrival to the cultivation world, he knew patience was his most important weapon.
He recalled from countless Chinese Eastern fantasy novels that a cultivator's most important virtue was bottomless patience. Cultivation was a slow, ongoing process—never to be rushed. So, he kept quiet and simply watched everything.
The guards started to complete Ethan's paperwork. They took out a magical-looking wood pen and a goatskin scroll, then began writing his details.
As they wrote, a magical, green-glowing liquid flowed from the tip of the wooden pen, serving as ink that matched the same glow as the goatskin provided by Jake. Ethan observed the whole process with pure curiosity.
"Name: Ethan Hunt!"
"Age is… 23?"
When the guard read Ethan's age, both nearly puked blood in anger. They were well aware that the proper age for a cultivator's debut was 10 or 12. The later one started, the less impressive their results. To begin at 23? He'd be lucky to cross even the first hurdle.
But the academy's dire circumstances forced them to accept this. There was nothing they could do about their situation now.
Then, as if things couldn't get worse, the next batch of Ethan Hunt's information nearly made them faint from rage.
"Mortal Grade Spiritual Roots!"
"Mortal Grade Physique!"
"Mortal Grade Spirit!"
Before they could shout in frustration, Jake hurriedly silenced them. "Don't give it too much thought. Just fill out the records and pretend not to know him."
"Can you name even one good thing about this guy?" one guard protested.
Jake shook his head. "Remember what the Principal said. We have to use whatever means we can to fill our numbers. Saving the academy from expulsion is our top priority. Otherwise, the future of countless students will be lost."
The guards understood. They knew how disastrous expulsion would be and decided to grit their teeth and push through their disappointment. They pretended not to notice Ethan's details as they finished the paperwork, but their hands almost trembled with anger during the process.
"What's our number status?" Jake asked seriously when they were done.
The guards seemed to know exactly what he meant. "Don't worry. We just reached the target. With this last person, we now have 15,921 students—just barely enough for the yearly quota."
One of Jake's followers spoke up, "Then why not just send this Ethan Hunt away? We've already met the number—do we really have to keep him?"
"Don't," Jake cautioned. "We don't know what sort of help he might turn out to be in the future. Don't judge by appearances alone. If we fall short of numbers again next year, we can revoke his admission and use him as a stopgap next time."
Jake sighed in disappointment as he looked at Ethan, thinking, "With this guy's level of talent, there's no way he'll even make it to the next academic year."