The manner in which this boy was explaining things suggested that no teacher in their right mind would ever willingly accept him as a student. However, given the circumstances, I, Vaibhav Shrivastava, felt compelled to consider taking him under my wing. The primary reason for my hesitation was that any student who knew my name or had even the slightest inkling of my tarnished reputation would likely steer clear of me. My past was marred by an incident—a scandal, if you will—that had cast a long, dark shadow over my once-glorious career. As far as I could tell, this boy, Aryan Chauhan, was blissfully unaware of the controversy that had engulfed my life. This ignorance presented a rare opportunity, one I knew I had to seize. If I let this chance slip through my fingers, I might never get another. My teaching license, already hanging by a thread, would be revoked, and I would be reduced to a aimless wanderer, a man without purpose or direction, destined to roam the streets as a nobody. Worse still, I would never achieve anything significant in this lifetime.
To clarify, the incident that had led to my downfall was not my fault—not entirely, at least. Let me take you back to the beginning. I was a teacher at Rudrapur National Academy, located in the bustling capital city of Rudrapur. My name is Vaibhav Shrivastava, and at the tender age of twenty, I had already achieved the remarkable feat of becoming a Level 5 expert in Martial Spirit Gathering. This extraordinary accomplishment earned me a prestigious position as a teacher at the academy. In my prime, I was hailed as a prodigy, a cultivator of unmatched talent whose reputation reverberated across the nation. My name was synonymous with excellence, and every child in the country dreamed of becoming my student. Who wouldn't want to study under someone so gifted? My skills were unparalleled, my teaching methods revolutionary, and my presence inspiring.
But fame, as they say, is fleeting. My glory days came to an abrupt halt after eight years of teaching. It all began when I crossed paths with a corrupt elder at the academy. The trouble started innocently enough—or so it seemed. This elder, a man of considerable influence, was secretly harassing a female teacher, someone I considered a dear friend. When I learned of his despicable behavior, I couldn't stand idly by. My sense of justice, coupled with my loyalty to my friend, compelled me to act. I resolved to protect her from the elder's clutches, no matter the cost. What followed was a prolonged and bitter cold war between me and the elder, a battle of wits and power that dragged on for nearly two years.
In the end, I succeeded in freeing my friend from his grasp. But victory came at a steep price. The elder, humiliated and enraged by my defiance, abused his authority to exact revenge. He coerced my friend into betraying me, threatening to destroy her entire family if she didn't comply. Under duress, she falsely accused me of attempting to molest her, claiming that the elder had heroically intervened to save her from my supposed advances. When this fabricated story reached the academy's administration, it unleashed a firestorm of scandal. My reputation, painstakingly built over years, was shredded overnight. The students who once idolized me turned their backs, and the academy's community ostracized me.
By this time, I had advanced to the pinnacle of Level 6 in Martial Spirit Gathering, a testament to my unwavering dedication to cultivation. Yet, despite my prowess, the stain of the scandal rendered me untouchable. No student dared to associate with me, let alone accept me as their teacher. I tried tirelessly to clear my name, presenting evidence and pleading my case, but my words fell on deaf ears. The academy, swayed by the elder's influence, chose to believe the lie. For the past two years, I hadn't had a single student. The academy's management issued a final ultimatum: if I failed to secure at least one student this time, I would be expelled from the institution, and my teaching license would be permanently revoked.
Today was the last day—the day that would determine my fate. Desperate to salvage my career, I spent the entire day scouring the city, pleading with potential students, but my efforts were in vain. No one would even consider me. As the weight of impending failure bore down on me, I succumbed to despair. I found myself in a tavern, drowning my sorrows in alcohol. After consuming more than my fair share, I stumbled out with a jug of liquor in hand and began making my way home, my heart heavy with defeat.
This brings us to Aryan Chauhan. Aryan knew nothing of my troubled past, but he was perceptive enough to sense that something was amiss. He observed my dilapidated home and likely concluded that I was either an utterly incompetent teacher or someone who had been systematically suppressed by the academy's management. Whatever the reason for my fall from grace, Aryan didn't seem to care. When I offered to take him as my student, he hesitated briefly, weighing his options. Then, in a gesture of profound respect, he knelt before me, bowing three times and touching his forehead to the ground. "Student Aryan Chauhan pays his respects to his teacher," he declared solemnly.
Aryan was no fool. He recognized the mutual benefit in our arrangement. For him, studying under me offered a chance to learn and perhaps even become a cultivator himself. For me, it meant saving my teaching license and reclaiming a shred of my former dignity. It was a symbiotic relationship, one that served both our interests. When I saw Aryan accept my offer, a weight lifted from my shoulders. The sword of Damocles that had been dangling over my head—the threat of losing my license—finally vanished. The Vaibhav who had been lying on his bed, numb and unresponsive, sprang to life. The drunken haze that had clouded my mind dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose. A new Vaibhav Shrivastava stood before Aryan, ready to reclaim his destiny.
I turned to Aryan and asked, "What is your name, child?" He smiled gently and replied, "Teacher, I already told you my name. I am Aryan Chauhan." Realizing my mistake, I slapped my forehead in embarrassment. "My apologies, that was my error," I said with a chuckle. "Here, take this token. It signifies your official status as a student of this academy." I pricked my finger and let a single drop of blood fall onto the token, then instructed Aryan to do the same. Following my guidance, Aryan added a drop of his own blood to the token. The moment his blood touched it, the token began to emit a strange, ethereal glow, and Aryan later told me he felt a deep sense of connection, as if the token had bonded with him.
Overwhelmed with joy, Aryan bowed three more times, offering his respects once again. I smiled warmly and said, "Rise, child. From this day forward, you are a student of Rudrapur National Academy. I have high expectations of you. Work diligently on your cultivation, and do not let me down." Aryan looked me in the eyes with unwavering determination and replied, "Teacher, rest assured, I will honor your trust. I will not disappoint you. I will advance so far in cultivation that you will be proud to call me your student."
His words filled me with immense pride. Though every student makes such promises, there was something in Aryan's eyes—a fierce resolve, an unyielding spirit—that convinced me he meant every word. I handed him the student token and explained, "This token grants you access to the academy's hostel, where you will be provided with lodging and meals. However, I must warn you: there is an elder at the academy who harbors a deep grudge against me. You may face challenges because of your association with me. But I trust you will stand firm and not waver in the face of adversity."
Aryan listened intently, his expression betraying a flicker of curiosity about the elder I mentioned. But he wisely chose not to press for details. Instead, he responded with calm confidence, "Teacher, do not worry. I will not pick fights or provoke anyone. I'll even ignore those who try to trouble me, up to a point. But if someone crosses the line and my patience runs out, I will fight back with everything I have. And I hope, in such moments, you will stand by me."
I was struck by his words. Aryan was cut from the same cloth as me—fearless, principled, and unafraid to stand up for what was right. He was exactly the kind of student I needed, not one who would crumble under pressure. "As long as you are in the right," I assured him, "your teacher will always stand by your side, no matter how great the challenge. Now go, don't waste time. Find yourself a good room in the hostel."
Just as we were speaking, a mocking laugh interrupted us. A man approached, sneering, "Well, well, look at this—two failures propping each other up. Don't you know the sixth elder has plans to make your life miserable, Vaibhav? And you, kid, with your pathetic rank, you still think you belong in this academy? A piece of trash like you deserves a teacher like him. You're perfect for each other." He scoffed, continuing his tirade. "I bet this boy begged every teacher in the academy to take him as a student, and you were the only one desperate enough to accept him. How pathetic, Vaibhav. I should celebrate your downfall."
The man's words stung, but I gritted my teeth and muttered under my breath, "Sudhir, just wait. Once my innocence is proven, I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget." Turning to Aryan, I asked, "Are you scared by his threats?" Aryan shook his head, unfazed. "Teacher, I've dealt with petty taunts like these my whole life. They don't bother me. If I let such insignificant threats deter me, I have no right to pursue cultivation."
I nodded, satisfied with his resilience. "Good. Now go to the hostel and settle in." Aryan obeyed, promptly heading toward the academy's hostel. Upon arriving, he presented his student token to the warden, who couldn't hide his shock upon seeing it. The warden showed Aryan to his assigned room, and when Aryan stepped inside, he was stunned by what he saw.