The following days in Tianxia Academy settled into a routine—a far from peaceful one. The routine was brutal: early morning training, lessons in Qi theory, combat practice, and late-night study sessions that had most of Class 1-C collapsing into bed.
However, it was not just the training that wore the students down. It was each other. Twenty young heroes crammed together, forced to compete and work together, meant tempers would fray, friendships would be made, and rivalries would escalate.
—
The third night, the lounge was abuzz with chatter. The smell of fried dumplings hung heavy in the air—Chen Hao had bribed the kitchen staff with his irrepressible optimism and had returned with plates heaped high.
"Gather 'round, comrades!" Chen called, unloading the food onto the table. His arms, which had been hardened as tough as iron, jingled as he raised one in a toast. "We survived a week without dying! That's dumpling-worthy!"
Several students cheered, swarming the table. Even Xia Yun, though she rolled her eyes, reached for a plate.
Lian sat at the edge, watching the chaos with a small smile. For the first time since arriving, the dorm felt almost… normal.
"Not hungry?" Xia asked, sitting across from him, chopsticks already full.
"Just waiting for the stampede to calm down," he replied.
She smirked. "You'll starve."
Chen scooted over, already taking a bite. "Come on, Feng, eat! You'll need the energy to keep dodging Rui's death gusts."
Lian groaned. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Nope." Chen grinned, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Besides, he's giving you the stink-eye right now."
Sure enough, Rui was sitting in the corner, eating alone, eyes straying over to Lian every so often. The rivalry was already a running joke in the dorms. Some of the students whispered about who would win in a rematch, others placed under-the-table bets.
"Don't mind him," Chen said. "He thinks he's superior to everyone else, but actually he's just afraid someone will finally catch up with him."
Lian shook his head. "He doesn't appear afraid. Just… intent."
Xia snorted. "Intent on killing you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Lian said dryly.
The room buzzed with laughter, stories of home, and playful arguing over whose Qi was the most brilliant. It was beginning to feel less like a group of strangers now—more like a dysfunctional family finding its shape.
—
The next morning, Class 1-C filed into their Qi Theory class. The chalk-scented room, whose walls were lined with diagrams of energy meridians, meridian points, and ancient records of legendary heroes.
Professor Liang, a white-bearded old man whose voice commanded silence, began to lecture. "Qi is the representation of the inner life force. Its manifestations are infinite, but its origin is singular. To master your Qi, you must not only train your body but your spirit as well."
Some students wrote frenetically, others could barely keep their eyes open. Lian was struggling to keep up with complex diagrams of energy pathways.
Xia, meanwhile, was completely at ease, hand shooting up to answer a difficult question about lightning Qi and conductivity. Liang nodded in approval. "Good. A sharp mind will take you as far as sharp power."
Chen, meanwhile, poked Lian and whispered, "I think my spirit's already asleep."
Lian stifled a laugh.
Class being over, Rui swaggered by their row, his eyes flicking at Lian's nearly empty notebook. "If you can't even follow in theory, you'll be useless in the field."
Xia beat Lian to a retort. "And if you spend all your time looking down on people, you'll trip over your own feet."
For once, Rui hesitated—long enough for Xia's smirk to become more pronounced.
"Come on," she said to Lian, dragging him out of the hall. "You need tutoring. I'm not letting my rival fail because he's too dumb to read a diagram."
Lian sighed. "Great. Another lecture."
—
By the fifth day, training resumed in full force. The students gathered in pairs for tactical exercises. This time, it wasn't about fighting—it was about coordination.
"Heroes rarely work alone," said Instructor Mei. "You must learn to anticipate, to depend, and to improvise with others. Your partner today is the one person you trust the least."
There were groans.
Mei's gaze swept the class. "Yes. Including you, Rui and Lian. In the ring."
The class erupted in murmurs. Chen murmured, "Oh, this is gonna be fun.".
Lian's stomach tightened, but he stepped into the ring. Rui stepped in with him, pose perfect, face expressionless.
"Target," Mei said, pointing to a dummy that was a giant stone monster. "Subdue the target together. If not, both of you will run laps until dawn."
The dummy came to life, rushing forward with eyes blazing.
Lian moved first, firing webs to bind its legs. Rui cut them off immediately with a gust of wind.
"Seriously?!" Lian cried out.
Your webs slow me down," Rui muttered. He slashed at the dummy with cutting air, but it barely stumbled.
The monster swung a huge arm down. Lian's reflexes screamed. He shoved Rui aside and just dodged it.
"Don't get in my way," Rui snarled.
"Maybe try coordinating?" Lian snapped back.
For a tense minute, their attacks clashed more with each other than with the dummy. Finally, Lian growled in frustration. If he won't coordinate, I'll force it.
He fired webs not at the dummy, but at Rui—sticking to his arm and yanking him mid-attack, redirecting the wind blast right into the dummy's chest. The combined force toppled it.
The arena went silent.
Rui tore the webs apart, eyes blazing. "Never do that again."
Mei's voice cut through the tension. "Sloppy. Chaotic. But effective. You two will repeat this exercise over and over until you learn to trust each other."
Rui strode away, shoulders tense.
Chen laughed in the sidelines. "You're lucky he didn't chop your head off."
Lian groaned. "Why does it always have to be me?"
Xia scoffed, folding his arms. "Because you're stubborn enough to take him on."
—
The dormitory was more subdued that evening. Students lolled about the common room, exhausted but buzzing with the energy of the week. Someone was playing a guitar, soft notes cascading down the hallway.
Chen flopped beside Lian with a grin. "See? We're all still alive. Even you and Mr. Hurricane."
Lian snorted. "Barely."
"Barely's good enough," Chen said.
Across the room, Rui sat alone once more, book open. But for a moment, his eyes lifted—not in anger now, but in thought—as he watched the others laugh.
The dorm was more than a sleeping room. It was a crucible, shaping bonds, sharpening rivalries, and intertwining twenty students into something more than strangers.
And as Lian drifted off to sleep that night, sore and exhausted, he realized something important.
This isn't just training. This is life now. And whether Rui likes it or not… we're all in it together.