Spirit Hall was not a place meant for leisure.
It was built to intimidate.
Tall white stone pillars pierced the sky, each carved with solemn runes that radiated authority. The emblem of Spirit Hall hung high, watching over the city like an unblinking eye. For ordinary Spirit Masters, even standing at the gates was enough to make their backs straighten unconsciously.
And yet—
A boy was lying on the steps.
Flat on his back.
Hands behind his head.
Leg crossed over the other.
He looked like someone enjoying the afternoon sun outside his own house.
A passing guard slowed his steps, stared for three breaths, then rubbed his eyes.
"…He's still here?"
Another guard beside him didn't even bother looking.
"Mm. Let him be."
The first guard clenched his jaw.
"Do you know how ridiculous this looks?"
"Yes," the second guard replied calmly.
"That's why we're ignoring it."
The first guard lowered his voice.
"If an outsider sees this—"
"If an outsider touches him," the second guard cut in, "we'll be the ones kneeling."
Silence followed.
That single sentence carried more weight than any explanation.
Because the boy on the steps was protected.
MC squinted at the sky, watching clouds drift lazily.
"Hey," he said suddenly, voice clear and casual.
"Do clouds in this world always look like they're foreshadowing something tragic?"
No one answered.
They had learned.
Engaging only encouraged him.
Ding.
Slacker System Notification:
"Host has successfully wasted the entire morning."
Reward:
Passive Luck +1 (Stackable)
MC smiled faintly.
"See?" he murmured.
"Hard work is overrated."
Ever since his spirit awakening, Spirit Hall had treated him like a fragile porcelain treasure that might explode if handled incorrectly.
Not because he was polite.
Not because he was obedient.
But because the awakening crystal had cracked.
Not shattered—cracked, as if something inside it had pushed back.
The elders remembered that sound clearly.
And Spirit Hall never ignored potential.
MC rolled to his feet and wandered inside without so much as a greeting.
No one stopped him.
Inside the training courtyard, the air was thick with spirit power. Young Spirit Masters sparred intensely, their expressions serious, movements sharp. Sweat soaked into stone tiles polished smooth by years of combat.
MC stopped at the edge, chewing on a fruit he had definitely not bought.
He watched.
Three seconds.
Then four.
Then he sighed.
"You're going to lose."
The words were calm. Almost bored.
The sparring froze.
One of the youths turned slowly, eyes sharp with irritation.
"What did you say?"
MC tilted his head.
"If you keep leaning forward like that, your center of gravity collapses. You'll overcommit on the third exchange."
The youth laughed coldly.
"And who are you supposed to be?"
MC thought about it.
"…A concerned bystander?"
The youth's smile vanished.
Spirit power flared.
He lunged.
Fast. Clean. Well-trained.
MC reacted late.
Or rather—he didn't react at all.
His foot caught on a loose stone.
He stumbled sideways.
The attacking fist missed MC's face by less than an inch and slammed straight into the stone pillar behind him.
A sharp crack echoed.
Pain followed.
The youth screamed.
Silence swallowed the courtyard.
MC stared at the fractured pillar, then at the trembling hand embedded in it.
"…Wow," he muttered.
"That timing was cinematic."
Ding.
Luck Triggered:
"Opponent has successfully defeated himself."
Several elders arrived instantly.
They assessed the situation in seconds.
Broken pillar.
Injured disciple.
Unharmed MC.
One elder closed his eyes briefly.
"Again," he sighed.
The injured youth opened his mouth to protest.
The elder raised a hand.
"You attacked within Spirit Hall grounds."
"But he provoked me!"
"You attacked," the elder repeated calmly, "a protected individual."
The youth froze.
Protected.
That word crushed his anger like a hammer.
He knew what it meant.
Punishment was issued.
The matter ended.
MC scratched his cheek.
"…Sorry?"
No one responded.
Later, near the outer courtyard, a boy approached him.
Calm eyes. Straight posture. A restrained aura that hinted at discipline.
"You're interesting," the boy said.
MC looked at him.
"That's what trouble usually says before starting."
The boy snorted.
"You either have incredible luck," he continued, "or negative intelligence."
MC brightened.
"Oh, it's both."
A pause.
Then laughter.
They sat together.
Talked.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, MC felt something familiar.
A friend.
That night, MC tried to help him cultivate.
That was his first mistake.
"You should try reversing the flow slightly," MC said casually.
"Might open new pathways."
"…That sounds dangerous."
"Only a little."
Five minutes later, spirit power went unstable.
The friend barely managed to suppress it.
He stared at MC, breathing hard.
"…You're an idiot."
MC smiled apologetically.
"That's fair."
The punch landed on his shoulder.
Controlled.
Personal.
It hurt.
But it didn't feel hostile.
Ding.
Beaten by Friend (Valid Source).
Relationship Bond: Strengthened
MC rubbed his shoulder.
"…Worth it?"
The friend sighed.
"…Unfortunately."
That night, MC lay on the roof of Spirit Hall, staring into the dark sky.
Somewhere far away, a boy named Tang San was growing stronger.
Training.
Believing.
Trusting the story.
MC yawned.
"Sounds exhausting."
Ding.
Hidden Objective Detected:
"Protagonist Elimination (Locked)"
MC rolled over.
"Future problem."
And fell asleep.
If you're ready, next I will write Chapter 3 with the same seriousness, longer emotional beats, and the first female lead introduction—no rush, no cheap fanservice, done properly.