Two months vanished in a blur of relentless, secret effort.
Within the first week, my innate soul power had naturally recovered to its true Rank 10 potential, a testament to the flawless purity of the body my soul now inhabited. The rest of the time was spent in a grueling, self-imposed training regimen.
Every day, I practiced my sword forms until my young body screamed in protest, pushing the limits of my stamina.
Every night, I tested the manifestation of my Primordial Judgmental Sword, watching the summon time increase by a few precious seconds with each rank I recovered.
During my sword practice, the Sword's inherent nature became a harsh but invaluable teacher. My "Eye of Absolute Truth" allowed me to perceive the perfect form for every slash and parry.
Yet, my weak mortal body couldn't replicate it. The gap between perfect knowledge and flawed execution was a constant, frustrating reminder of my limitations.
'Flawless... perfect...' I mused 'But nothing in this universe is truly perfect. The moment something becomes perfect, it stagnates.
It has nowhere left to go, no reason to strive. The pursuit of perfection, the endless struggle to close that gap... that is what gives life meaning.'
The sound of a carriage stopping outside jolted me from my thoughts. It was time.
The village chief had arranged my passage with a merchant caravan. After paying the driver, we stood before the gates of Veridia City.
The guards gave my Spirit Hall certificate a cursory glance and waved us through. Inside, the bustling streets were a world away from the quiet village.
"Jin, do you know why I chose this specific city for you?" the chief asked as we walked.
"No, Grandpa Chief," I replied honestly.
He smiled, his expression kind. "You have talent, but an innate soul power of Rank 2 means the path of a powerful battle master will be difficult. This city is home to the Silent Scroll Academy, an institution that focuses primarily on the knowledge of soul masters—their history, their theory. Battle training is secondary here."
A wave of genuine gratitude washed over me. 'He really is a good man,' I thought. 'He has unknowingly given me the perfect sanctuary.'
Veridia City was not on any major trade route, and its academy valued knowledge over fame. It was the perfect place to disappear and gather the information I would need to survive.
"Thank you very much, Chief," I said, and for the first time, my smile felt completely real.
He laughed and patted my head. "Just work hard. Let's get you enrolled."
The enrollment process went smoothly, my mediocre credentials drawing no special attention. I was assigned a room in the work-study students' dormitory. As I was heading there, my eyes were drawn to a massive, ancient building at the heart of the academy, its stone walls covered in ivy.
It was clearly a library, an arsenal of knowledge waiting to be plundered.
"Hey, kid. You a new work-study student?" a voice called out.
I turned. A boy a head taller than me, dressed in a neat scholar's robe, was looking at me with a friendly, curious expression.
"Yes, senior brother. I'm a new student," I replied politely, my gaze immediately falling to the thick book in his hands. The title read: 'An Encyclopedia of Primary Soul Beasts'.
Noticing my stare, the boy chuckled. "Good, an interest in the important things. My name is Huo Luo, a third-year. If you're interested in books, you've come to the right place. The library here has everything."
"Thank you, Senior Brother Huo Luo. I will definitely make sure to visit," I said.
We spoke for a little while longer—a calm, easy conversation where I carefully revealed nothing of substance about myself.
Finally, I bid him farewell and continued to my dorm. My mind, however, was already back at that library, already formulating a new, long-term plan. My life at the Silent Scroll Academy was about to begin.
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Everything went as smoothly as I could have hoped. After settling into my small, sparse room in the work-study dormitory, I laid upon the bed and observed my new environment.
The dorm was quiet, filled with students engrossed in their own studies or chores. No one paid any particular attention to anyone else. It was perfect.
The next day marked the true beginning of my new life. I went straight to the library, a magnificent, ancient structure that smelled of old paper and forgotten knowledge.
This, I decided, would be my real academy. The official classes, which were only held three days a week, would be a secondary concern. The rest of my time would be spent here, cultivating my mind, and in the practice fields, cultivating my blade.
The first book I pulled from the shelves was an encyclopedia on Soul Beasts and their various types. I lost myself in its pages for hours, absorbing every detail, every classification.
After a simple lunch in the student canteen, I returned immediately, my hunger for knowledge far greater than my need for food. The evening passed in a quiet, studious blur.
When the library finally closed, I ate a quick dinner and made my way to the practice grounds behind the main academy buildings. As the chief had said, the field was mostly empty.
The students of the Silent Scroll Academy focused on knowledge and theory, seeing physical training as a mere necessity to maintain their health so they could better present their knowledge to the nobles who might one day become their patrons.
This worked to my advantage. Here, I could practice in relative peace. I picked up a simple iron practice sword—I would never risk showing my true Martial Soul in a place like this. You never knew who might be watching.
The cold weight of the iron felt clumsy in my hands compared to the perfect, otherworldly balance of my own blade, but it would have to do.
My days fell into a steady, disciplined rhythm. Mornings in the library, poring over books and performing my work-study duties of cleaning and organizing the archives.
Afternoons in the practice fields, relentlessly drilling my sword movements. Evenings in the solitude of my room, practicing the subtle application of minor curses from the Book of Misfortune, carefully measuring the soul power cost and the resulting backlash.
An entire year passed like this. I was now seven years and eight months old.
My research in the library had borne fruit. I had identified several potential targets for my future hunts, cross-referencing their habitats with their "evil" reputations. One stood out as a prime candidate for my next ring: the Evil Soul Specter, known for its spiritual malevolence but physical fragility. I also found detailed entries on the Dark Fire Lion.
The texts confirmed it was an incredibly vicious beast that killed everything it saw, which was why it was so rare—it was often hunted down by powerful soul masters. Most interestingly, its ring almost always granted a "Flame Curse" soul skill, an ability most battle masters found useless. For me, however, it was a crucial piece of data.
During this year of awakening, I also confirmed one of my deepest suspicions. After a minor injury, an elder at the academy tried to treat me with a low-level healing spirit skill.
The moment the warm, green light touched my skin, a cold, sharp jolt of energy erupted from within me. My Primordial Judgmental Sword had passively judged the external power as an "unworthy" foreign object and instantly purged it.
The realization was both a blessing and a curse: I was immune to external effects, both good and bad. I couldn't be healed or buffed by allies. This confirmed something I already knew deep down: I would always be alone in my fights.
'It doesn't matter,' I affirmed, sitting on my bed late one night. 'Skills imprinted on rings are a crutch. The true power of the Book of Misfortune is its ability to curse anything, once I have the strength to pay the price.'
My own skills, forged through my own effort, were all that mattered. My techniques had improved dramatically over the year.
Phantom Judgment Sword: The afterimages I could create were now faster, more numerous. I could weave a complex web of phantoms to misdirect and confuse, all while stacking a dozen minor curses onto a target to create a fatal flaw in their defense.
Single Point Judgment: My control had become more precise. I could now infuse a smaller, more efficient amount of soul power for a quick, armor-piercing strike, or gamble a massive amount for a devastating, all-or-nothing thrust