Tianxia Academy's dormitory was anything Lian had imagined. He had been expecting cold, military-style barracks, but it resembled a vast mansion—albeit vertically stacked, with wide staircases, communal lounges, and balconies leaning over the courtyards.
Students darted about, carrying boxes, offloading suitcases, or already claiming segments of the lounge with raucous chatter. Instant noodle aroma wafted through the air as a boy prepared his dinner at the edge of a tiny flame Qi flickering on his fingertips.
Lian readjusted the pack strap as he entered the common room. His eyes scanned the room, questioning and uneasy.
"Hey, Feng!" Chen Hao called out. He waved enthusiastically on one of the couches. "Over here!"
Lian made her way over, struggling to smile. "Already making yourself at home, huh?"
"Of course." Chen stretched, his iron-hardened arm clinking slightly against the couch frame. "This place is paradise compared to my old apartment. Free food, hot showers, and look—" he pointed at the dorm's massive screen, "—we even get live hero broadcasts. Not that we'll have time to watch much."
Xia Yun walked in behind them, hair damp from a shower, sparks faintly dancing around her like they were part of her aura. She plopped down on the opposite couch, arms crossed. "It's loud. Already hate it."
"You don't like people?" Chen asked, leaning forward.
"I don't like noise," she corrected sharply.
Chen grinned. "Fair enough. Still, we're stuck together for three years. Might as well learn to live with it."
A cold voice drifted down the stairs before Lian could respond. "Three years is being kind. Some of you will not survive the first semester."
Rui descended, hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes locked on Lian. His words carried weight, delivered with the sharpness of a blade.
The lounge went quiet, a few students glancing back and forth between them.
Lian smoothed his face, struggling to remain calm. "You really can't take a break, can you?"
Rui grinned wryly. "Breaks are for the ambitious." He walked past, shoulder bumping Lian hard enough to make no mistake about the gauntlet.
Lian's warning sense tingled, as sharp as ever. This kid isn't just prideful. He's measuring me. testing me.
The first official training session came the next morning.
Class 1-C students assembled in the academy's outdoor training grounds—a huge open space flanked by obstacle runs, target mannequins, and reinforced sparring circles. With a thick air of tension and electricity, Instructor Mei emerged, her hands behind her back.
"Today," she announced, "you'll be tested for your stamina, flexibility, and teamwork. This isn't combat school—it's survival school. You'll run, climb, dodge, and fight until your bodies beg you to stop. Heroes don't get to quit when they're tired."
The class toughened up.
"First drill: obstacle course." Mei swept her hand, and the ground panels rearranged to reveal a twisting sequence of walls, rope ascents, and swinging bridges that seemed to have been designed with an eye to penalizing hesitation.
"Pair up," she commanded. "You will run the course in pairs. Coordination is as important as speed."
Xia Yun hooked her thumb at Lian. "You. With me."
He blinked. "Uh—okay."
Chen Hao acted as though pouting. "What, letting me run with Ironhead number two?" He gestured towards a massive student posing in the corner. "Okay, but you owe me."
Lian nervously laughed as he lagged behind Xia towards the front row.
When Mei gave the signal, they were off.
Lian shot a web at the first wall, pulling himself up with easy momentum. Xia, not to be outdone, shot up the wall in a flash, lightning flashing behind her.
"Catch up!" she yelled.
"I was just about to say that," he retorted, vaulting over a gap.
They crawled along quite well together—his webs carrying him over an obstacle, her speed covering what he could not. When a pendulum swing was about to send them both off track, Xia darted around it while Lian webbed his way down to dampen the pendulum's swing.
Side by side, together, they crossed the line at the finish, panting but grinning in spite of themselves.
"Not bad," Xia reluctantly conceded.
"You're faster than I thought," Lian observed.
"Obviously."
Over there, Chen Hao stumbled into line with his iron-fleshed partner, grunting. "Next time, Feng, you're on your own with me. She's going to cook you alive."
The class burst out laughing, tension broken—until Rui's pair was done.
He hadn't just run the course. He had torn through it, his wind Qi blasting obstacles aside, carrying both himself and his partner like a storm. He stood at the finish line, not even winded, his eyes drifting again to Lian.
The message was clear: You're still beneath me.
Then there was combat sparring. Students alternated working with one another, testing their Qi against each other. Lian sparred with cautious energy, interweaving webs and natural dodges, winning small victories as well as losing against more brute-strength Qi.
In between rounds, he found Chen leaning against the fence. "Man, this is difficult. You make it look easy."
Lian wiped sweat from his forehead. "I don't know about easy."
"Quick on the uptake. And that web stuff? Completely original. Half the class can't even get a clue what to do with it." Chen smiled. "Just don't get complacent."
Xia walked past, throwing her towel at Lian. "Too much motion. Flashy swings, but not always effective."
He caught the towel clumsily. "Thanks?"
"That was not a compliment."
But the smirk told otherwise.
When sparring rotations were finished, Mei called for an end-of-day last match. "Two students will demonstrate all they have learned today. Rui. Lian. Into the ring."
The class buzzed with speculation.
Lian's chest tightened, but he went on. His reflexes already galloping, keen and unforgiving. Rui strode in quietly, every movement planned.
"Let's have it over," Rui said flatly.
The fight began. Rui launched a flurry of condensed air, blades slicing through the air. Lian dodged, rolled, and swung, casting webs to chop the gusts.
Rui sliced through each strand mercilessly. "Still hiding behind tricks."
"Better than hiding behind arrogance," Lian snapped, charged forward. He pretended to cast a web, then swung around Rui, trying to wrap him from behind.
But Rui had anticipated it. A sudden upward blast caught Lian off guard, barely catching himself with a wild swing.
The class gasped.
Rui advanced, face calm but eyes aflame. "You sense danger, don't you? That's why you're retreating before I strike. But reaction alone will not save you forever."
Lian's jaw clenched. Rui was right—his instincts commanded him, but they were not enough if Rui kept shoving with raw offense.
Still, something in Lian refused to back down. He planted his feet, firing two webs at once—snagging debris and flinging it to obscure Rui's vision. In that split second, he lunged low, grabbing Rui's ankle and yanking hard.
Rui stumbled. The match teetered in balance—until Mei's sharp voice rang out. "Enough!"
Both froze.
"Good. You've shown me your strengths. And your flaws," Mei said, gaze flicking between them. "But more importantly—you've shown me your rivalry. Use it. Push each other beyond your limits. That is how you'll grow."
Rui pulled free, brushing himself off with cold precision. He didn't speak, but his glare at Lian carried the weight of a promise.
And Lian, panting and bruised, could only return the look.
This isn't over.
That night, the dorm was quieter. Some students collapsed early, others laughed over dinner in the lounge.
Lian sat by the window in his room, staring at the city lights. His body ached, but his spirit felt sharper than ever.
He thought of Xia's competitive smirk, Chen's easy laughter, Rui's merciless eyes.
This was only the beginning.
And deep inside, his instincts whispered once more—like a gentle rumble of gathering storms on the horizon's edge.