At the summit of the village's mountain stood a colossal ancient tree, nearly twenty zhang tall. Its trunk and branches blotted out the blue sky, radiating dazzling emerald light. One could see this light from afar, like a lighthouse amidst a sea of clouds. The villagers revered it with the beautiful name – Divine Tree (神木 - Shén Mù), and it was right where the Divine Tree cast its shadow that the heart of the Suixing Academy was located.
The academy was situated precisely on the mountain peak, perpetually shrouded in white clouds. The atmosphere was both serene and ethereal, like a paradise on earth.
Lan Jiang walked leisurely up the stone path leading to the academy. Along the way, she saw many youths her own age, their faces eager, eyes brimming with anticipation. Mingling among them were also some older, taller figures with distinctly different auras.
Before the majestic main gate, Lan Jiang's eyes tilted upward. On the dark ironwood plaque hanging neatly above the gate, four gilded ancient characters were deeply carved, exuding a dignified majesty:
「SUIXING ACADEMY」
At that moment, Lan Jiang could only stand there silently in a daze, her round eyes wide and unblinking, as if she had wandered into another world.
Then she walked further in and stopped at the academy's main hall – where a large board stood upright, covered in papers listing each student's name and their assigned class. Groups of students crowded close, pointing and discussing animatedly.
After searching for her name for a while, she found it written in exquisite calligraphy: "Beginner Class 1 – 2nd Floor, East Wing."
This was one of dozens of beginner classes for new students, each comprising about thirty students. To avoid confusion, a wooden plaque clearly engraved with the class name hung beside each classroom door.
Upon stepping inside, the scene that unfolded was: a spacious room with ancient fu talismans hanging on the walls, and sitting mats arranged neatly in three rows. A few students were already seated sporadically, while the rest were bustling about, getting to know each other.
Lan Jiang walked in and chose a seat by the window. She took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling the warm atmosphere around her and the excitement of her first day at school, anticipating many new and interesting things to come.
A moment later, the figure of a boy stepped inside. His hair was light blue, his eyes amber, and he wore a white robe.
The moment he stepped in, the whole class buzzed with discussion because of his striking appearance, aloof demeanor, and transcendent grace.
Lan Jiang, who had been daydreaming in the clouds, was jolted back to reality by a shock. She turned to look outside the door and saw the figure of Guo Jing Hua.
Surprised, she slapped both hands on the wooden desk and shot up, her right index finger pointing, her voice rising sharply.
"It's youuuuuuuu!"
After such a loud shout, the whole class stared at Lan Jiang. She was utterly embarrassed, her ears practically steaming, and she repeatedly rubbed the back of her head with her right hand, apologizing to her classmates.
Hmph, truly, foes are bound to meet on a narrow road!
Lan Jiang pouted, puffing out her cheeks, crossed her arms, and turned her face away, refusing to look at Jing Hua anymore.
Seeing Lan Jiang's attitude, Guo Jing Hua initially raised an eyebrow slightly, but then returned to his usual calm state and simply found a seat.
Hmmm... But there's only one spot left, next to this little brat.
Whatever. Anything's fine as long as there's a place to sit.
Lan Jiang was startled once again.
No way! Oh heavens, can anyone switch seats?
Jing Hua also went to sit next to Lan Jiang, acting indifferent.
A few breaths later, an old man entered. He looked very kind-hearted, with white hair, a long beard, long eyebrows, and wore a white robe. He walked leisurely, stroking his beard as he went.
The class, which had been chatting in hushed tones, suddenly fell completely silent upon seeing the old man.
The old man slowly stepped onto the lectern.
"I am Su Xingyun (Túc Tinh Vân). From now on, I will be your instructor, responsible for teaching you characters."
"Besides learning characters, there is naturally another important matter: testing the Spirit Bloodline (灵血脉 - Líng Xuè Mài) within each of you once you turn ten. Those confirmed to have the bloodline and aptitude for cultivation will be transferred to Shuimo Jing (Thủy Mặc Kinh) to train."
The students listened attentively, then began whispering among themselves.
"I will go to Shuimo Jing and become the most awesome cultivator, blasting my opponents away with a single boom!"
"I wonder what kind of aptitude I'll have?"
"Wow, Guo Jing Hua is so handsome~"
...
Ai Lan Jiang listened intently, starlight shimmering in her eyes. She drifted into a hazy daydream.
On a cloud-shrouded hill, where the sunset dyed the entire space gold, an immortal appeared. They wore white silk robes thin as mist, with light blue silk ribbons tied at their wrists and waist fluttering with every movement, like clouds drifting in the wind.
In their hand was a gleaming silver treasured sword, sparkling as it reflected the last rays of sunlight. Each step was like a verse of poetry gliding over the ground, both light and graceful. As the sword danced, trails of light like silvery mist swirled in arcs, each swing carrying a harmonious rhythm—fierce as a storm yet soft as skimming a lake's surface.
Their long black hair flew in the wind, blending with the silk ribbons to create a moving picture. Light danced on every fold, making it hard to look away. The immortal's gaze was elegant yet solemn, containing the whole world within it—the mountains and rivers—as if they were one with nature. They were not just dancing with a sword but telling a story of the wind, clouds, and morning dew.
She secretly thought that one day, she would be just like that.
The old instructor coughed, intending to quiet the noisy classroom.
"Ahem, now we shall begin our first character lesson. You little rascals, copy the character 德 (Dé - Virtue) for me."
Having said that, he wrote the character on the board for the children to copy.
The children below pulled bamboo slips from their baskets and placed them on the desks, along with inkstone boxes and brushes for writing.
Then, the boys and girls painstakingly copied each stroke, trying to make it resemble the character the instructor had written on the board.
A moment later, a boy's lament was heard.
"Haizz, why give us such a difficult character to copy on the very first day? Why not something simpler?"
Hahaha, the old man laughed heartily before replying.
"An excellent question, young man. Do you know why?"
"The noble man takes Virtue as his root,
Like a towering mountain, unshaken for all ages."
"Virtue (德 - Dé) is the foundation of a person. If from the very beginning you cannot cultivate this fundamental thing, it will be difficult to become an upright individual walking the Righteous Path (正道 - Zhèng Dào) in the future. Those without Virtue can only ultimately fall into the Demonic Path (魔道 - Mó Dào). Once set upon that path, one will inevitably live only for themselves. Friends, family, masters, lovers—you could betray or abandon them all without hesitation. And of course, the Demonic Path is destined to be profoundly lonely (孤独 - Gūdú)."
The children sat upright on their mats. Having heard this admonition, the atmosphere in the room became heavy and solemn.
The most clever one, usually quick to laugh and talk, now had a slightly trembling gaze, their hand tightening slightly around the brush, feeling both reverence and fear.
The more naive ones had wide eyes, bewildered, not fully understanding the profound meaning, but faintly sensing that "Virtue" was something important and not to be taken lightly.
The most composed ones bowed their heads silently, a flash of thought in their eyes, as if carving the master's words into their very hearts.
A few other children pursed their lips, their faces unusually serious, as if they had just realized that life wasn't only about games and laughter, but also a long road full of challenges.
The entire room was silent as a grave. Only the sound of the wind blowing through the door crack could be heard, mingling with the sound of the children's young hearts beating faster than usual.
At the base of the classroom, near the window seats, two extremes coexisted.
One was Lan Jiang, her eyes starry, continuously nodding in admiration of what Master Su had just said.
The other was the boy sitting next to her, Jing Hua, his eyes narrowed, sneering coldly in his heart.