"Silence!" the Elder barked. "Today, we study the Theory of Qi Condensation and Moral Superiority. Open your scrolls!"
Wangchen opened his scroll. He stared at the words.
'Qi is the breath of the universe...'
Boring.
His mind drifted.
'Is the Young Master warm? Is the Class 9 building drafty? Did he eat the second bun? Is anyone bullying him? If someone bullies him, can I freeze the building from this distance?'
He began to subconsciously trace formation patterns on his desk with his finger. They weren't Qi gathering patterns. They were long-distance surveillance patterns.
.
.
.
Across the campus, down a winding path that hadn't been swept in a week, stood the lecture hall for Class 9.
It was... rustic.
The roof had a few missing tiles. The desks were mismatched, some tall, some short, some covered in graffiti that said things like "Elder Zhang smells like old cheese" and "I want to go home."
