Bao kept up his attitude for a bit longer, muttering something about “pathetic idiots” before finally climbing up—teeth grinding all the way.
Silence settled over the room. It lasted just long enough for everyone to form their own first impressions. I sat on my bunk, stretching, eyeing the others from the corner of my eye. I figured we’d sit in silence a while longer, each lost in our own thoughts. But Denis spoke up first.
“Well, let’s do this properly.” He leaned back on his bunk. “Denis Rein, Den, New Valla. Main root—Palm, 24.”
Seemed important to him.
We could all see most of this info through the interface anyway—except for where someone was from. So this felt more like an old-school who’s-the-alpha ritual. Though, to be fair, there was no aggression in his tone.
The black guy, already settled on the top bunk, spoke next.
“Marlon Kay. Syrena. Air, 21. Point, 20.”
Now that was interesting.
Denis was straightforward—a classic close-range fighter. At least, that’s what it seemed like. I still hadn’t actually seen how techniques worked. But Diego had said Point techniques were the closest thing to firearms. I wondered how that played out in Marlon’s case—would it look more like fencing? Shooting? Or maybe a goddamn tornado?
Denis glanced at me.
I wasn’t in a hurry to speak, but with Bao pointedly ignoring us, staying silent didn’t feel right either.
“Jake Sullivan… uh, Fist, 23.” I shrugged. “No idea where I’m from. Neural interface installation didn’t go great—I’ve got some huge memory gaps.”
Bao snorted something unintelligible from above. He didn’t bother to add anything we could understand.
Kay said nothing either.
Only Denis reacted.
“They’ll pay you insurance. If you’re not some rich brat like Bao, that’s a win.”
I said nothing.
“Did they tell you anything about it?”
I nodded.
Denis raised a brow, waiting for more.
I just smiled and shook my head.
He smirked back, nodding in understanding.
At that moment, a notification flashed before my eyes.
Incoming message from: R. P. Robinson
Subject: Preparation
Content: Go through the manuals within an hour. Memorise the essentials.
Surprise flickered across my face.
"What?" Denis asked.
There wasn’t much point in hiding it.
"The doc sent me a message. Wants me to read something."
I navigated through my interface, tapping at the holographic buttons floating in the air. Denis stood up and walked over to a wardrobe.
"Pick a locker," he said, "and initiate binding."
After fiddling with the door he had chosen, Denis opened it and pulled out a black tablet from the top shelf.
"Easier to read on this," he explained. In my interface, the door behind him now displayed D. R. Rain.
I copied his actions on the nearest wardrobe door, and my initials appeared on the door as well. I didn’t bother checking the full inventory the school had provided—just grabbed the tablet. It seemed to serve the same function as the black monitor in the hospital room. My interface automatically transferred to the screen.
It really was more convenient.
I flopped back onto the bed and opened the first file—Basics of Cultivation
The text was clear and structured, with no unnecessary explanations—like a standard technical manual rather than something that fundamentally altered the human body. And, most importantly, none of that flowery nonsense about the Jade Emperor entering the Golden Gate or other incomprehensible Chinese mysticism.
The core principle of cultivation was absorbing and refining energy. Qi filled the world, but its concentration varied by location. There was almost none left on Earth, which was why cultivators trained here, on Verdis, and on other moons.
The first step was to sense the energy. This was handled by certified specialists who assessed candidates for cultivation. Which meant I should have been introduced to qi back on Earth. That didn’t quite add up in my head—since there was no qi on Earth… So why the hell were demons so fond of it? Maybe that specialist used objects infused with qi—crystals or artefacts?
The main issue was that I had no idea what qi even was.
I immediately sent a message to the doc.
Subject: Qi!Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Content: I don’t remember what the hell it is! I don’t know how to sense it.
The process of absorbing energy involved opening one’s body to the external qi flow. It was similar to breathing, except the energy didn’t enter through the lungs but through specialised internal channels, which developed differently in each cultivator.
The manual detailed several techniques tailored to different roots. I chose the palm-based technique recommended for Fist users. Interestingly, cultivators with a highly developed Palm root were advised to absorb energy through the backs of their hands rather than their palms.
Absorbing qi required concentration and control. Taking it into your body was only half the battle. If you just pulled it in, it would disperse, leaving only a faint trace behind. To truly integrate the energy, it had to be compressed and stabilised in the lower abdomen or the solar plexus.
I’d seen a mention of bottlenecks in the manual—those very same obstacles you couldn’t overcome without special compounds. I wondered how hard it really was to reach the first one.
I moved on to the next manual, but before I could start reading, a new message popped up:
Incoming message from: R. P. Robinson
Subject: Re: Qi!
Content: Got it. No problem. Keep reading!
Cultivating in a Flow Chamber was the most effective method for accumulating qi, as the concentration there was dozens of times higher. But there was a catch:
You couldn’t hold onto the flow—you had to let it pass through you.
Untrained cultivators often tried to seize all the energy at once, overloading and damaging their channels in the process. It was like taking a sharp breath of scorching air in a burning house—without the proper technique, you'd just choke.
The manual advised letting the energy pass through rather than trying to trap it. To allow the flow to move through the body, like wind through an open window, gradually leaving its imprint.
Here, the author couldn’t resist some imagery. He even threw in a waterfall analogy:
"Imagine standing under a waterfall. If you try to catch all the water in your hands, it’ll simply slip through your fingers. But if you stand beneath the flow and let it run over you, some of it will naturally be absorbed by your skin."
I leaned back against the bedframe and closed my eyes for a moment. Absorption is passive, channel it through, don’t hold… Alright. We’d see how that worked in practice.
I thought an hour wouldn’t be enough, but the manuals were fairly short. The collection techniques took up the most space, but since I’d already settled on the recommended one, I skimmed through the manuals twice.
Denis was absorbed in his tablet. Marlon had picked a locker and was reading as well. Only Bao was deliberately ignoring us—and the rest of the world.
His primary roots, by the way, were Mace 20 and Wood 23. Not that he’d said it out loud, but he himself had pointed out that we could check. So, when I got bored of reading, I took a look.
An hour had passed, and still no word from the doc.
Another hour later, I was just about to put the tablet away and get some rest when the door to our room swung open. Diego stood in the doorway, as composed and polite as ever, his expression unreadable.
"Cadet Sullivan, you are required to undergo an additional medical examination," he announced.
I raised an eyebrow as if I wasn’t thrilled about it.
"Do I have to?" I asked, winking at the thin-horned visitor.
"I don’t think it’s worth troubling the supervisors—they’re not exactly known for their delicacy. This is just a routine check-up," Diego assured me.
Alright, fair enough. He’d convinced not just me, but the whole room.
I stood up, stretched, and cast a quick glance at Denis and Marlon. They pretended not to care, but I knew—they’d memorised every detail. Bao, however, surprised me. He actually got involved. He jumped down from his bunk.
"Thinhorn, I am Bao Fen. Bring me my personal belongings."
Diego didn’t so much as blink.
"I’m afraid that’s impossible, Cadet Bao. Access to storage chambers is granted only to the cadets themselves."
Bao Fen clenched his jaw. He’d even introduced himself this time, and it still didn’t work. Even this damn thinhorn ignored him.
He skipped "Do you know who I am?!" and went straight for the heavy artillery.
"I am the son of Bao Hai, grandson of Bao Wei, great-grandson of Bao Zhui!"
Diego nodded, almost bowed, and put on the most insincere expression of fear I’d ever seen in my life. His tone, however, remained just as level and composed as ever.
"A pleasure to meet you, Son of Bao Hai, Grandson of Bao Wei, Great-Grandson of Bao Zhui. Forgive this humble servant, but the most I can do is summon a supervisor. I’m sure one of them will be more than willing to make an exception… for the Son of Bao Hai, Grandson of Bao Wei, Great-Grandson of Bao Zhui."
Bao Fen turned red, his whole body trembling with rage. So, the supervisors didn’t give a damn. The only thing waiting for our dear Fen from them was a well-placed boot up his arse.
I barely managed to hold back my laughter.
Diego knew exactly what he was doing—he never gave a direct excuse for punishment, but at the same time, he humiliated Bao Fen far more effectively than simply ignoring him.
"And now, if you’ll excuse me, Son of Bao Hai, Grandson of Bao Wei, Great-Grandson of Bao Zhui, we have a doctor to see."
That was it—Denis lost it. He snorted with laughter and turned to face the wall, trying to stifle it. Marlon, the calmest of us, buried himself under his pillow to hide the sound, but his elbows bounced with every suppressed heh-heh.
As for me, I bolted into the corridor, hand over my mouth, waiting for the door to shut behind Diego before finally letting the laughter burst out.
"That was bloody brilliant!" I told Diego.
"Experience!" he replied with a grin, wagging his finger like an old grandpa.
Well, despite how he looked, he wasn’t exactly young.
Diego gestured for me to follow, and I decided to take the opportunity to ask about that arrogant prick.
"So… who exactly are the Baos?"
"Bao Fen is one of the younger sons of a major cultivator family," Diego replied.
"How major are we talking?"
"Around fifty members, and every other one is a cultivator."
I let out a low whistle. Now that was interesting. Maybe even dangerous.
"How strong and influential are they?"
"The family patriarch—the great-grandfather—has reached the fifth stage of cultivation, Nascent Soul."
"Is that impressive?" I asked.
"Very! There are only about two hundred fifth-stage cultivators on Earth. And they’re the best we’ve got."
"What about the demons? You mentioned the seventh stage."
"I said the raid was led by a seventh-stage demon. There were three of them in total. About fifteen at the sixth stage and over a hundred at the fifth. We usually have the upper hand at lower levels, but the power of the higher ranks is hard to overcome."
"Could Bao Fen be a problem for me?"
"From what I’ve seen, he’ll be a problem for everyone around him. But I doubt a serious one. The patriarch is over three hundred years old, and from what I hear, his health is failing. The family has already begun fighting over the heir’s position, so Bao Fen would be a complete idiot to cause a scandal for his father right now."
"So the kids are already trying on the crown?"
"Grandkids," Diego corrected me. "All of his children are dead. To live that long, they would’ve needed to reach the fifth stage. They didn’t make it."
Well, cultivators lived longer than ordinary people, but not forever.
"And what about the grandkids and great-grandkids? Not as tough?"
"Some of them have reached the fourth stage. Many others in the family are at the second or third."
I nodded slowly, processing the information. Looked like Bao Fen had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and his future was all but guaranteed… almost.
"He seems a bit too twitchy for someone from such a powerful family."
Diego smirked slightly.
"Family status doesn’t automatically make him strong. You wouldn’t believe how many like him get weeded out despite all their advantages. Remember when I mentioned qi crystals? Why do you think he was so desperate to get his belongings?"
Now that was satisfying. Bao Fen could scream about his father all he wanted, but here, at Black Lotus Academy, there were plenty of third- and fourth-stage cadets. And none of them gave a damn about some rich brat whose potential was still up for debate.