Twilight Academy's courtyard buzzed with energy as students sparred, studied, and showed off. But at the far edge, in the moss-covered dojo of Class D, silence ruled.
Han Li leaned on his broom, watching his students meditate. Most still failed to control his cultivation method, but they were trying. More importantly—they were surviving.
"Your spiritual roots are unstable," he said to Jian Mo. "Too much fear. Let it become clarity, or it'll consume you."
Jian Mo nodded, eyes clenched. "Yes… Teacher."
Han Li raised a brow. "Hm. 'Teacher' now? I thought I was just the janitor."
The others chuckled lightly.
But before warmth could settle, the dojo doors creaked open.
An elder stepped in, flanked by two robed students with sharp eyes and sharper blades.
"Han Li," the elder said coldly. "The Head Council wants a demonstration. Your class is... raising eyebrows."
Han Li didn't move. "So soon?"
"Yes. A preliminary spar against Class C tomorrow. If you refuse, your class will be disbanded."
The students tensed.
Xun Fei rose. "We accept."
Han Li turned to him, mildly amused. "We?"
Xun Fei bowed. "This technique, your method… it gave us a path. We'll fight for it."
Han Li smirked faintly. "Very well."
As the elder left, the spy from the Grand Library stood nearby, hidden behind a veil of concealment. His eyes widened.
"So this is his play…" he muttered.
Far above, clouds thickened unnaturally. The Sky-Eater's slumber deepened, but threads of its presence drifted downward—curious, hungry.
Han Li felt it too.
"A test already," he whispered. "Then let them see... what trash can become."