Zhuo Meng's classmates looked at him in disbelief. Despite his defeat, his fight with teacher Han Yuren had been fierce, showing that he was no wimp and that his silence was due to strength and talent, not arrogance. No one expected him to last this long, much less force a teacher to show his true skill.
Since then, his popularity had skyrocketed in A class. Whispers floated through the halls, comparing him to Xiang Yimu, the prodigy everyone thought would dominate the academy. And now Zhuo Meng's name carried the same weight. Some even dared to say that he had surpassed her in raw fighting talent.
In the back corner of the classroom, Zhuo Meng sat alone, arms crossed, his mind elsewhere. But his eyes were glued to him. Every slight movement of his fingers, every blink, were watched like the blossoming of a rare flower.
"Look, Zhuo Meng is sitting by himself again." Zhang Yu grumbled with feigned casualness. He leaned closer to Qiao Li, nudging him with his elbow. "Qiao Li, go ask him to sit with us. After all, he is our classmate."
In reality, it was not a suggestion. It was an order.
Qiao Li was just one of the members of the boy clique, but the real power rested in Zhang Yu, the center of the group, and its undisputed leader. Possessing the rare and powerful Earth Gungnir core and carrying the Zhang surname, his status was nearly untouchable. The Zhang clan controlled a quarter of the entire Quan Tian sector. Blue Cloud Academy, the pride of Feiyun City, flourished in part because of the donations from Zhang Yi's clan. Even the headmaster had to weigh his words carefully around him.
Qiao Li hesitated. His clan, a weaker branch of the family, had long been on the verge of being annexed by the Zhang clan. His ascension as a cultivator with a second grade core brought his family some more hope, but not much. In order to keep that breathing space, he had to submit to Zhang Yi, who had been sent to the Blue Cloud Academy specifically to keep him in check.
Qiao Li felt the weight of Zhang Yi's gaze and stood up reluctantly. "Brother Zhuo Meng, why don't you come sit with us? Maybe we can become friends. Who knows?"
Zhuo Meng lifted his head, meeting Qiao Li's eyes first, then slowly turning his gaze toward Zhang Yi.
That boy again.
He always made sure the light hit him just right. His white hair was slicked back with care, sharp like blades, not a strand out of place. His eyes dripped arrogance, and he looked at the world like it owed him something. He smiled rarely, and when he did, it was sharp, like a dagger sheathed in silk.
Zhuo Meng shifted his gaze back to Qiao Li. His robes were fine silk, embroidered with delicate cloud patterns, clearly more expensive than Zhuo Meng's, but still a step below Zhang Yi's. Qiao Li didn't appear eager. His voice wasn't warm or sincere, just... dutiful.
It wasn't hard to see what was going on.
But Zhuo Meng smiled anyway.
"Hehehe, I don't see why not. How could I not give face to Brother Qiao Li and Brother Zhang Yi?" he replied smoothly, rising from his seat.
His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but his eyes stayed sharp. He walked over with them, sat at the table for a short while, exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries, and then politely excused himself under the guise of cultivation.
This world... kids wore the faces of men before they'd even grown into their shoulders. Friendships were weapons, relationships battlegrounds. And Zhang Yi didn't bring him in for nothing. Maybe it was because of that fight with Han Yuren. Maybe because he'd shown too much potential. Or maybe just because he was unpredictable.
Zhuo Meng didn't mind. Getting close to someone like Zhang Yi could be dangerous, but it also came with benefits. If played right, he could leverage the relationship, gain more benefits... or at the very least, stay out of trouble.
Later that day, Zhuo Meng walked to the academy's supply depot. It was an unremarkable stone building, manned by an old mysterious man and protected by formations. Inside, he handed over his token and received a pouch of fifty qi stones. He now had one hundred thirty seven.
Qi stones were everything in this world, currency, lifeline, weapon, medicine. They pulsed faintly with power, like the heartbeat of the earth itself. But in battle? They weren't exactly practical. Unless refined in advance to match one's own qi frequency, they'd act like poison in your meridians.
Still, having more was never a bad thing.
His feet led him to the Feiyun City cultivation market next. The place was alive with noise, cultivators of all ranks haggling over pills, artifacts, talismans, and spirit beast parts. Merchants shouted over each other, claiming their wares were blessed by ancient sages or forged during heavenly tribulations.
Zhuo Meng ignored the chaos, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. He was searching for something specific.
He found it at a small, discreet stall tucked between two larger ones: a storage ring, simple but sturdy. Eighty qi stones. A fair deal. He paid without haggling.
Then, across the street, he found another stall, reeking of blood and beast fat. Demonized blonde hound corpses, still intact, their hides barely scorched, their eyes glassy. Sixteen qi stones each. Zhuo Meng bought three. Those beasts were aggressive, and their qi was unusually dense.
Perfect for his needs.
By the time he returned home, night had fallen. The academy grounds were quiet. Zhuo Meng left his residence and headed toward a desolate cliffside grove near the back of the compound, where few dared to go. It was silent save for the rustling leaves and the occasional howl of distant spirit beasts.
He laid out one of the demonized hound corpses and crouched beside it. It still gave off a faint qi signature, like the dying echo of a roar. He reached inside himself, activating his core. The Thousand Silent Bloom stirred. It was subtle, elegant, quiet... yet terrifyingly deep.
The multicolored orb emerged from his dantian, floating above the corpse like a blooming lotus. Threads of shimmering light stretched into the carcass, and the extraction began.
The qi was wild, erratic. It fought back. Compared to the docile energy of trees and spirit grass, this was violent, stubborn and feral.
A beast's qi really cannot compare with a casual tree. The difference is massive. I already used my multicolored ball on this demonized blonde hound once, and it still has almost half its qi remaining...
His brow furrowed.
Hmph? What is this feeling?
Suddenly, his core trembled.
It started as a tickle, then turned deeper, as if something had scratched the inside of his chest. His breath came short, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He clenched his fists, fell to his knees, and blood began to seep from his nose.
The pain was like nothing he had felt before. His vision blurred. For a moment, he thought he might black out.
And then, silence.
The pressure faded. The pain evaporated.
He slumped forward, panting, drenched in sweat.
That... that was way worse than my ascension.
Was it because the corpse was demonized? But it shouldn't matter. I didn't even touch it directly. And the multicolored ball had already partially refined it...
Wait. Where did the beast's qi go?
He peered into the corpse. Its qi signature had vanished, completely. Gone, as if it never existed.
His heart sank.
Interesting... I seem to have developed a longing for this type of qi. Am I starting to be demonized?
No. No, that can't be. If that were true, I'd have already lost my sense of self.
Still, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Was it really worth continuing with these demonized corpses? Selling them would be slow. Refining them was clearly dangerous. He could end up with a loss in more ways than one.
Zhuo Meng sat in silence, the night wind brushing past his soaked robes. He stared at the fading moon and thought.
No answers came.
Eventually, he stood, wiped the blood from his palms, and went back to cultivate.
Huh? Where did the beast's qi go? Why can't I sense it? What is going on?
Zhuo Meng's brows furrowed tightly as he stared intently at the demonized blonde hound's lifeless body. The corpse lay still, its fur matted with dried blood, eyes glazed over in eternal silence. He had just begun the qi extraction process when something strange occurred, its qi energy vanished completely.
He slowly circled the body, inspecting it from every angle. Probing its internal structure, searching for residual traces of qi. Nothing. The core was hollow, void of energy. Not even the most minuscule fluctuation remained.
Zhuo Meng stood there silently for a long moment. The unease he had felt earlier returned, stronger than before. There was no logical explanation for this. Something had consumed that energy, but it wasn't him. At least... he hoped it wasn't.
Interesting... I seem to have developed a longing for this type of qi. A strange affinity, almost like hunger. Could I be starting to become demonized?
He narrowed his eyes, looking inward at his core. It still pulsed with its usual muted radiance. The Thousand Silent Bloom was as steady as ever, calm and elegant. No erratic behavior, no hints of corruption.
No... If I was being demonized, I would've already lost my sense of self. I'd be foaming at the mouth, attacking anything that breathed. But I'm still in control.
Still, the incident was unsettling. The thought of becoming demonized, of losing himself to some feral instinct, clung to his mind like cobwebs.
Is it really worth it to continue refining these demonized beasts? Sure, their qi is potent... but if something like this keeps happening, I'm wasting time. Selling the corpses would take forever, and even then, I'd barely break even. The risk just keeps growing.
He sat there for hours under the moonlight, legs crossed, arms resting on his knees, thinking, pondering deeply over his situation. His thoughts looped endlessly but yielded no conclusion. Eventually, he gave up trying to reason with the unknown and returned to his cultivation practice. Better to grow stronger and worry less.
Cores, after all, were the foundation of a cultivator's path. They were divided into grades based on two primary aspects: their combat systems and cultivation efficiency. A grade one core typically stood an entire tier above a grade two in both regards. It wasn't just raw power, grade one cores offered deeper compatibility with qi, more refined martial techniques, and faster progression rates.
This truth was evident in Zhuo Meng's case. Though his Thousand Silent Bloom was officially categorized as a grade two core, largely due to the lack of widespread knowledge or proper documentation about it, it was far more formidable in practice.
If judged solely on performance, it should have been labeled a grade one core long ago. Its ability to interface with and extract qi from living and dead sources, its natural refinement capacity, and its balanced qi nature made it exceptional, unique even.
This was most clearly seen in Zhuo Meng's rapid cultivation progress. In just three months, he had broken into the ferrium stage, first gate, fourth sub realm. That kind of growth was unheard of for someone with no major clan behind them. He had done it largely on his own, relying only on grit, his mysterious core, and the few resources Blue Cloud Academy provided to promising students coupled with his adoptive family's limited resources.
Xiang Yimu, the top student of Class A, was also at the fifth sub realm of the same stage, but she had every advantage money and power could buy. Her clan had backed her from the moment her Hollow Fang Dragon core awakened. They had filled her storage ring with high grade qi stones, rare spirit pills, and even beast cores from the Southern Ranges.
Hollow Fang Dragon wasn't just any core, it was one of the most prestigious grade one cores known across the Quan Tian sector. It was the very same core possessed by Emperor Zou Lin of Bai Jiang Empire, a man whose name alone could shake mountains and silence rebellions.
If Xiang Yimu was given enough time, enough guidance, enough experience, she could truly rise to stand on equal footing with him. Perhaps even surpass him.