Within the stone halls of Vavilon academy, the posting board buzzed with activity. Students clustered around the newest assignment, which stood out among the mundane requests for herb collection and practice partners.
"Five merit points per week?" A girl with braided red hair pressed closer to the board. "For tutoring some genius kid? That's practically a gift."
Her friend elbowed through the crowd. "Look at the requirements though—full bone body forging and 80-plus grades across all subjects."
The notice had appeared without fanfare that morning, yet by midday, it had become the talk of the academy. For most students, merit points were hard-earned currency, traded for cultivation resources, private instruction rooms, or even rare scrolls from the restricted section of the library.
In a quiet corner of the dining hall, twelve-year-old Lucy hunched over her cultivation theory notes, oblivious to the commotion. Her simple blue uniform was meticulously pressed, her dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Unlike many of her peers from prominent families, Lucy had entered the academy on scholarship alone.
"Lucy!" Her roommate slammed both hands on the table. "Have you seen the new posting? It's perfect for you."
Lucy glanced up from her diagrams. "What posting?"
"Five merit points weekly to tutor some comprehension genius. You've completed bone forging, right?"
Lucy nodded slowly. She'd reached full bone body forging three months ago—slightly ahead of schedule, but nothing remarkable for a third-level aptitude.
"And your grades are always above 90," her roommate continued. "You should apply before everyone else does."
Lucy gathered her notes. "They'll pick someone with first-level aptitude. I don't stand a chance."
Despite her doubts, Lucy found herself standing before the application desk that afternoon, submitting her name alongside thirty-four other girls between ages ten and thirteen. The examiner recorded each candidate dispassionately, offering no hints about their chances.
The testing process began the following day—practical demonstrations of cultivation techniques, written examinations on theory, and finally, mock teaching sessions with younger students. With each round, candidates were eliminated until only five remained.
Lucy survived each cut, though she couldn't understand why. Girls with better backgrounds and higher aptitudes were being dismissed while she advanced.
On the final day, she stood before three senior instructors who observed her with unreadable expressions.
"You understand this position requires patience," the eldest instructor said. "The child is extremely young."
"I have three younger siblings," Lucy replied. "I helped raise them while my mother worked."
The instructors exchanged glances.
"Your cultivation progress is adequate but unremarkable," another noted. "Why should we select you?"
Lucy straightened her shoulders. "Because I understand what it's like to work twice as hard for half the recognition. I won't resent teaching someone who learns faster than I do."
Two days later, Lucy received the notification of her selection. She clutched the scroll, reading it three times to confirm she hadn't misunderstood.
Five merit points weekly would change everything. She could afford better cultivation resources, stop taking kitchen duty for extra points, maybe even send something home to her family.
What she didn't know—what none of the applicants knew—was exactly who she would be teaching. The academy had deliberately withheld details about Andrew. Had his identity been revealed, the competition would have transformed into a frenzy, with every female student clamoring for the chance to instruct the child prodigy who had already captured the Matriarchy's attention.
Lucy walked home that evening with a lightness in her step that hadn't been there in months. The narrow streets of the outer district felt less oppressive than usual, the weight of constant struggle momentarily lifted from her shoulders.
Her family's apartment occupied the third floor of a modest building—functional but cramped for five people. The scent of bean stew greeted her as she pushed open the door.
"You're late," her youngest brother complained, already setting the table.
Their mother looked up from the cooking pot. "Everything alright at the academy?"
Lucy dropped her bag and broke into a rare, unrestrained smile. "I got selected for the tutoring position."
The spoon clattered against the pot as her mother abandoned the stew to embrace her. "Five merit points weekly? Oh, Lucy!"
Her siblings crowded around, peppering her with questions. How many had applied? What would she teach? Was the student truly a genius?
"I don't know much yet," Lucy admitted as they settled around the table. "Just that the child is exceptionally gifted in comprehension. The academy was surprisingly secretive about details."
Her mother ladled stew into bowls. "This could change everything for you. With those extra points, you could access the higher-level cultivation manuals."
Lucy nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. Better cultivation resources meant faster advancement. Faster advancement meant better assignments after graduation. Better assignments meant more security for her family.
"I'm starting in three days," she said. "They gave me an address in the Willow District."
Her mother's eyebrows rose. "Willow District? Not where I'd expect to find a prodigy."
The Willow District wasn't poor, but it certainly wasn't where wealthy families typically resided. It was solidly middle-class—respectable enough, with decent security patrols and regular water access.
The next three days passed in a blur of preparation. Lucy reviewed basic cultivation theory, prepared simplified diagrams, and practiced explanations of fundamental concepts. By the time she stood before the address provided, her teaching materials were meticulously organized in her satchel.
The building was unremarkable—four stories of gray stone with neat windows and a modest entrance. Lucy checked the address again before climbing to the second floor and knocking on the designated door.
A young woman with warm eyes opened it, her expression brightening when she saw Lucy's academy uniform.
"You must be the tutor. I'm Eva."
Before Lucy could respond, another woman—strikingly similar to Eva but shorter and with a more animated demeanor—appeared beside her.
"Finally! I'm Amara. Come in, come in! We've been so excited to meet you."
The apartment was surprisingly spacious, clean and well-organized though modestly furnished. Lucy noted immediately that the typical clutter of family life had been carefully controlled, with designated spaces for different activities.
"We prepared a study room," Eva explained, leading her down a short hallway. "It's small, but quiet. We all sleep in the other bedroom, so Andrew won't be disturbed during lessons."
Lucy nodded politely, mentally cataloging the information. A dedicated study room suggested serious commitment, regardless of their modest circumstances.
Eva pushed open the door, revealing a small but well-lit room with a simple desk, two chairs, and several empty shelves. Beside the desk stood a small boy, perhaps three years old, with intelligent eyes that locked onto Lucy's face with unnerving intensity.
Lucy stepped forward, her practiced introduction dying on her lips as recognition dawned. Her body went rigid, blood draining from her face as she stared at the child before her.
This was no ordinary prodigy.
Lucy's knees weakened as she stared at the child. A boy. An actual male child with cultivation potential. She'd heard whispers, of course—rumors that the Matriarchy occasionally discovered male children with aptitude—but to see one in person was entirely different.
"Hello," the boy said, his voice small but steady. "Are you my teacher?"
Lucy swallowed hard, composing herself. "Yes. I'm Lucy." Her voice sounded distant to her own ears, as if someone else was speaking. "I'll be teaching you cultivation basics and other different topics."
Eva smiled warmly. "Andrew is very bright. He absorbs information quickly."
Andrew. The name echoed in Lucy's mind as she mechanically set her materials on the desk. Her fingers trembled slightly as she arranged the diagrams.
"We'll leave you to get started," Amara said, her cheerful energy filling the small room. "Just call if you need anything."
The door closed behind them, leaving Lucy alone with the boy. He climbed onto the chair opposite hers, waiting expectantly.
"Let's begin with stages of cultivation," Lucy said, her training taking over despite her whirling thoughts. She pushed a simple diagram toward him, explaining the concept of each stage while her mind raced in entirely different directions.
The rarity of what sat before her was staggering. Male cultivators were vanishingly rare—perhaps one in ten thousand had any aptitude at all. Those few were treasured, protected, and... competed for. As for boys. It was one of a few million people born on this world.
Lucy had seen the fervor with which senior female students discussed the rare male instructor at the academy. The subtle competitions, the careful maneuvers to secure private lessons or special attention. Even at twelve, she understood what motivated them.
"Why does this pathway connect here during the cultivation?" Andrew asked, pointing to the diagram.
Lucy blinked, forcing herself back to the present. "That's the heart meridian junction. It's crucial for circulation." She traced the line with her finger, explaining the principle while part of her mind continued its frantic calculation.
This child was perhaps three years old. In ten years, he would be thirteen—approaching maturity. By then, Lucy would be twenty-two, established in her cultivation career. If she maintained this connection, if she became someone he trusted...
The implications made her light-headed. In the cultivation world, alliances with male practitioners were coveted beyond measure. The strongest female cultivators often partnered with the rare males, producing children with enhanced aptitudes. Such opportunities were typically reserved for daughters of influential families or those with exceptional talents.
Yet here she was—ordinary Lucy from the outer district—teaching a male child with potential.
"Did I get it wrong?" Andrew's voice pulled her back again.
"No, that's correct," Lucy said, realizing she'd been staring blankly at his practice drawing. "You've grasped the concept quickly."
She continued the lesson in this divided state—her outer self delivering information on cultivation basics while her inner thoughts churned with possibilities. This connection could change everything for her, for her family. If she handled this opportunity correctly over the years...
The lesson concluded after two hours, and Lucy packed her materials with mechanical precision. Eva and Amara returned, asking about Andrew's progress.
"He shows remarkable comprehension," Lucy reported truthfully. "We covered introductory meridian theory, and he grasped the fundamentals immediately."
As Lucy left the apartment, her mind still reeled with implications. The five merit points now seemed trivial compared to what this connection might eventually yield. She walked through the Willow District in a daze, hardly noticing her surroundings.
This was no longer just a tutoring position. It was a lottery ticket she'd never expected to win.