As Diego explained cultivation and its hidden pitfalls, my decision had already been made. I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for someone to lead me by the hand—especially when both Doc and thinhorn had made it clear that no one would give a damn about me.
They hadn’t said it outright, but that was the impression I got.
If cultivation was the key to survival, then I wasn’t about to waste time. Flow Chambers—that’s what I needed.
"You said the first meditation knocks you out for a while? Then the sooner I get it over with, the sooner I recover. Can you set it up?" I leaned forward slightly. "I’ll cut you in—ten thousand for fifteen minutes, as soon as I get my insurance payout."
Diego listened with polite attentiveness. But his face made it clear—he wasn’t going to help.
"Not before the briefing."
I could argue. I could try to convince him it wouldn’t be a big deal. But Diego didn’t seem like someone who could be easily swayed into breaking protocol. Who knew what kind of punishment he’d get for that? And I didn’t want to ruin our working relationship right from the start.
"No shortcuts around this?"
"Cultivator parents and rich families often give their kids qi crystals. Some cadets will likely be meditating soon, absorbing their energy. That’s the only ‘legal’ shortcut. The school actually encourages students to invest in their own development."
"But I am willing to pay."
"With money you don’t have."
"I will have it, won’t I? I’m starting to have doubts."
"There’s a tiny chance you won’t. But that’s not the issue.
"Despite being eighteen, any debt agreements with you would be legally void. For the next year, you won’t have the right to sign official documents without a guardian’s approval."
"And who’s my guardian?"
"Some nameless bureaucrat in the Ministry of Social Welfare."
Who had never seen me in his life. And didn’t give a shit.
"So I guess ‘we just won’t tell anyone’ isn’t an option?"
"Cadets’ personal data and status are public information," he explained. "The moment your level increases, your cultivation ranking updates automatically. If I help you before it’s officially allowed, I get punished."
He said it with a level tone—no regret, no apology. Just a simple fact. Diego might not have been a slave in the literal sense, but he was still bound by duties and restrictions. Free—within the limits of his role. Nothing more. And if he was created to serve, then there was no reason he couldn’t serve me—as long as I made it worth his while.
“Alright. Then after the briefing.”
He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging my words.
“If I have the time…”
“For an extra fee,” I added.
That earned me a brief glance. Subtle, but enough to confirm—I was right. He might have been a servant, but money still mattered to him.
“I’m a servant. The school pays me for my work. I’m not allowed to take payment from others.”
“A gift from a friend?”
“More like a bribe.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out…”
Diego studied my face for a moment.
“If you still need help after the briefing, I’ll assist—if I have the time.”
“Great!”
I had no idea how much I could actually trust him. But that didn’t matter for now. The important thing was—I had taken my first step. Made my first connection. Though… maybe I should’ve tried talking to Rogers about this instead…
“Doesn’t Doc need to observe me absorbing qi? To make sure I don’t have any issues besides memory loss?”
Diego gave the faintest of smiles.
“I’ll ask,” he said—then his eyes unfocused slightly as he checked his interface.
“Doctor, the patient is asking whether we should test his ability to absorb qi in a Flow Chamber.”
“I’m willing to pay for the tests,” I added.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Diego repeated my words, then flicked his gaze back to me a few times before letting out a quiet chuckle.
“What?” I asked.
“He says the patient is showing clear symptoms of terminal smartassery and that I should check your hormone levels and kick you out.”
Diego pulled a scanner pen from his pocket and held it to my neck. A few seconds later, he did kick me out—though he at least showed me how to use the interface’s navigation system first. And where to find the waiting hall.
Upon arrival, I was supposed to report to the temporary supervisors that my emotional crash was over and my hormone levels had stabilised. The hall turned out to be nothing more than a long, wide corridor—benches lined one side, while panoramic windows stretched across the other.
At first glance, the view outside seemed almost… Earth-like. But only at first.
The garden beyond was designed in a Japanese style: winding white gravel paths snaked between rocky islands covered in soft moss. Here and there, trees resembling bonsai stood tall, their thin, gnarled branches stretching skyward as if clinging to the heavens. Their leaves shimmered, shifting between a silvery glow and a faint bluish tint. Some trees had no leaves at all—their limbs transitioned into thinner, softer, translucent tendrils, swaying like underwater plants at the slightest breeze.
I stepped closer to the glass, momentarily captivated by the scene.
This was an inner courtyard—I could see tall grey walls of glass, concrete, and steel beyond the trees. Quite tall walls, looming over the garden.
Only a fragment of the sky was visible above them—an impossibly deep shade of blue, almost black, without a single cloud in sight.
And just beyond the walls, the silhouette of lunar mountains rose, shrouded in mist. They looked unreal. Like the trees with their flowing tendrils—like a movie set for some faraway planet.
The light hit at an odd angle, casting sharp, elongated shadows that only made everything seem even more alien. But what struck me the most was the pond at the garden’s centre.
Its surface was completely still—perfectly smooth, like glass. The water had a faint bluish hue, and now and then, tiny sparks flickered within it.
Qi? Bioluminescent bacteria? Some unknown physical phenomenon?
Whatever it was, the sparks barely held my attention compared to the lotus flowers floating on the surface—
Black. As black as the school’s name. Their petals were semi-transparent, catching the light at strange angles, creating the illusion of shattered crystal.
The garden was empty. It felt like no one came here unless they had to. And the crowded hall only made its isolation stand out more.
It looked peaceful—
But it was the kind of peace that felt unnatural. Like the forced stillness before a storm. And sure enough, the storm was brewing inside the hall.
Two female cadets suddenly erupted into a shouting match—then lunged at each other, yanking at hair.
A third-year female supervisor was on them in an instant, grabbing both by the heads and pulling them apart.
They shrieked, still clawing at each other, but there was no resisting her grip.
To really drive the message home, the supervisor landed a slap on each of them—One dropped onto her arse, the other collapsed completely.
If anyone else had been considering starting trouble, the brutal display convinced them otherwise.
I looked away. No point staring. No matter how stunning the garden was, or how fascinating it was to study local customs, I wasn’t here for sightseeing.
I scanned the supervisors and spotted the one who had broken up my scuffle with Tariq. I headed straight for him.
"I don’t remember the proper way to address you," I admitted.
"You may go with ‘sir," he replied.
My interface identified him as N. V. Phillips.
"My emotional crash is over, sir. Hormone levels are stable."
Phillips didn’t take my word for it. He called over another thinhorn, who scanned me before nodding in confirmation. Only then did Phillips gesture towards a group of about ten male cadets standing near another supervisor.
“Join them.”
I reached the group at the same time as another cadet.
The supervisor silently marked us on his tablet, then gestured to where we should stand, forming us into two orderly columns.
Nearby, another group of girls was lining up, but our dozen filled up first.
The supervisor waved at a thinhorn in a jumpsuit and barked out an order.
“You run after the thinhorn. Anyone who falls behind or breaks formation—” he smirked, “—gets a nice boot from me. Move it!”
The thinhorn set a brutal pace right from the start. We scrambled after him, trying to keep up.
No deadweights in our group—everyone was fit. Still, by the time we reached our destination—the dormitory—we were all dripping with sweat. And we’d taken plenty of kicks along the way.
The supervisor dashed back and forth like a lunatic, never even breaking a sweat himself.
Once we arrived, he shoved us into rooms—tiny boxes—and ordered us not to leave without permission.
No kicks this time. Instead, he threatened penalty points. And somehow, that sounded a lot worse.
The room they’d shoved me into was maybe three metres by three. Two sets of bunk beds. Two double-door wardrobes. One tiny desk.
My roommates? A blond Viking. A black guy, so tall and skinny he looked like he was made of sticks. And an Asian kid with blue hair. We all eyed each other.
“Denis,” the blond introduced himself first.
Blue-hair scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“You got a problem?” Denis asked.
“What’s the point?” Blue-hair muttered. “Elimination rate is 75%. Statistically, only one of us will make it.”
“Jake,” I said, pointing at the bottom left bunk.
“Mine.”
Then I squeezed past them and claimed it before anyone could argue.
The general awkwardness worked in my favour.
“Mine!”
Two voices rang out at once.
Denis and Blue-hair Asian had both pointed at the bottom right bunk.
The stick-thin guy just shook his head.
“I don’t give a shit,” he said—and climbed onto the top bunk above me.
Denis shoved Blue-hair aside and flopped onto the bottom bunk.
“Up you go,” he told him.
Blue-hair stared at him.
“Do you even know who I am?”
“Nope. You didn’t introduce yourself.” Denis smirked.
“You could’ve checked the interface,” Blue-hair spat, seething.
I did.
F. Bao.
Didn’t mean shit to me.
“Well?” Bao snapped, smug.
Denis sat up. He slowly extended his arm and raised his middle finger. Then, just as slowly, he pointed it straight at the top bunk.
"Get up top!"
Bao’s face flushed red.
"You’ll regret this, I—"
"You’re some pampered brat with a big-shot daddy, we get it! Now shut up and climb!" I snapped.
Maybe I shouldn’t have. But the guy clearly wasn’t looking to make friends—and unlike him, I was. Statistics are a funny thing. They only work with large numbers. Maybe only one of us in this room would survive the cull. Maybe none. Maybe all of us.
There were twenty-five bloody hundred cadets here. If he didn’t want support, that was his problem. Me? I wasn’t about to turn it down. Better to have someone at your back. Then again, Doc did warn me to watch it.
"Think you can just get away with this?! I’ll be the first to break through in this room!" Bao said.
"I think… we should’ve asked if we’re allowed to leave for the toilet first." I stretched lazily. "Third-rate villains don’t interest me."