Mu Wanqiu covered her mouth with slender fingers and let out a soft, melodic chuckle, her dark eyes sparkling as she quietly observed the scene before her. The morning sun cast a warm glow over her long, flowing hair, turning it into a cascade of chestnut gold. As the faint psychic light surrounding the man's body faded with his dwindling energy reserves, the patchy fur that had sprouted across his skin began to recede—dissolving like morning mist under the sun until his original lean frame was fully restored.
His face flushed bright red with embarrassment, the color spreading all the way to his ears. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, muttering something unintelligible under his breath before turning and hurrying away through the crowd. Every step was hurried, as if he couldn't escape the playground fast enough. He'd already lost enough face in front of the entire school; there was simply no reason for him to stay any longer and endure further mockery.
The Spirit Master and Spirit Envoy system has been passed down for thousands of years on Blue Star, woven into the very fabric of human civilization. In the Xia Kingdom—one of the world's oldest nations—its origins can be traced back to the ancient Xuanwu Dynasty era, when powerful cultivators first forged bonds with spiritual beings from other realms. The system once experienced glorious heights of prosperity, with Spirit Masters serving as advisors to emperors and guardians of the realm. It also endured long, quiet periods of decline during times of war and chaos—eras when the practice was driven underground, nearly leading to its complete extinction. Only about a century ago—when global order finally stabilized after the Great Psychic War—did this ancient power begin to revive and flourish across nations worldwide, integrated into modern education and society.
After generations of research and countless experiments, all forms and types of abilities below Saint-level talent have been fully explored and studied in meticulous detail. These findings were eventually compiled into standardized textbooks, becoming the core curriculum and assessment criteria for mandatory high school courses across the Xia Kingdom. Every student was required to learn about the different talent ranks—from the basic Mortal rank up to the revered Saint rank—and understand how each ability could be developed and applied in daily life and combat.
Among these well-documented abilities, "Beast Transformation" stands out as one of the most formidable physical enhancement techniques for spirit users among Earth-rank talents. Historical records speak of legendary practitioners who could transform into massive wild beasts—towering tigers with fur like molten steel, giant serpents that could split rivers, and winged leopards fast enough to outrun lightning. Their combat prowess was unmatched by ordinary warriors, capable of turning the tide of battles single-handedly.
Unfortunately for the young man who'd just demonstrated his ability, this simple, brutal form of physical enhancement had little in common with the delicate, nature-aligned Saint-level talent Mu Wanqiu had awakened. Her abilities were centered around healing, plant manipulation, and spiritual purification—domains that required precision and control rather than raw strength. Naturally, she had no interest in forming a contract with someone whose power was so fundamentally different from her own. Thankfully, the man had been unable to bear the jeers of his peers and left on his own; otherwise, it would have taken considerable effort for her to politely decline his offer without causing further embarrassment.
Mu Wanqiu parted her lips slightly, drawing a deep breath of the crisp morning air as she felt the familiar weight of pressure settling on her shoulders. Even from a distance, she could see other students gathering their courage, preparing to approach her with their own contract proposals. She had never been good at refusing others—even when every instinct told her to say no, she often found herself struggling to find the right words. This "hesitant and shy" personality trait had been with her since childhood, and it was the main reason she was constantly pursued by dozens of suitors, both within and outside the school.
Shen Rong—the school's star athlete and another Earth-rank talent—was perhaps the most persistent of her admirers, his near-obsessive pursuit far from an isolated case. He'd been following her around for nearly a year, leaving small gifts on her desk and waiting for her after every class. Faced with such relentless advances, Mu Wanqiu's usual approach was to agree to "be ordinary friends" while deliberately keeping an appropriate emotional distance. She'd smile politely, respond to his messages with short, friendly replies, and never accept any invitations that might be misinterpreted as romantic interest. However, this gentle response was often misinterpreted by suitors like Shen Rong as a sign that "there was still a chance." After all, in their minds, if she truly had no feelings for them, why would she bother to be their friend at all?
...
Taking advantage of the chaos on the playground and the fact that no one was paying attention to him, Bai Hao quietly slipped away from the crowd and made his way back to the classroom building. He moved with practiced ease, staying close to the walls and using the flow of students to conceal his movements. In his view, standing around watching others show off their talents was a pointless waste of time—far less valuable than finding a quiet place to sit and contemplate the strange talent he'd just awakened.
He knew perfectly well that his Profound-rank assessment wouldn't be enough to secure him a spot in any decent college without taking the rigorous entrance exam. In the Xia Kingdom's education system, talent accounted for only sixty percent of admission criteria; the remaining forty percent depended on written tests covering everything from ancient history to advanced mathematics. Given his current situation—with less than three months until the exams and his grades hovering just above average—hoping to study intensively and pass the written test to get into even the lowest-ranked psychic university was nothing more than a pipe dream.
Yet Bai Hao was determined not to let his life be confined to mediocrity. He'd seen what happened to people who settled for ordinary lives in this world—working dead-end jobs, struggling to afford even basic cultivation resources, their talents slowly fading from neglect. He refused to be trapped in that cycle, living out his days in quiet desperation. Therefore, improving his combat skill level and compensating for his lackluster exam scores through the National Martial Arts Trials was his only viable path forward. These trials allowed students to earn extra points for college admissions by demonstrating practical combat abilities, and for someone with his mysterious talent, they represented his best chance at a better future.
In this world where psychic power dominated every aspect of society, class status and wealth distribution were inextricably linked to one's spiritual abilities. Those with high-rank talents were guaranteed admission to top universities, where they'd gain access to rare resources, advanced cultivation techniques, and connections that would ensure their success for life. But if someone couldn't even enter the gates of a Psychic University—if they were stuck with low-level talents or insufficient exam scores—it meant they would never be able to acquire sufficient knowledge and training in the critical early stages of their development. They'd be unable to obtain high-quality cultivation resources like spirit stones or medicinal herbs, and would almost certainly end up with low-level jobs: working as security guards at shopping malls, managing spiritual energy grids in residential areas, or serving as assistants to higher-ranked Spirit Masters. Their future career advancement would be completely blocked, their lives predetermined by the limits of their talent and education.
Given his current circumstances, Bai Hao knew that the only way to unlock the true potential of his seemingly mysterious Profound-rank talent was to gain access to the resources and guidance available at a Psychic University. Without proper instruction, he was like a man holding a priceless sword but not knowing how to draw it from its sheath.
He made his way to an empty corner of the classroom, pulling out his desk chair and sitting down with his eyes closed. Focusing his mind with practiced ease—something he'd learned from years of meditation in his past life—he let his consciousness sink into the depths of his mind, plunging once again into that mysterious, unpredictable void that psychic theorists called the "Sea of Consciousness."
What greeted him was the same chaotic, indistinct darkness he'd encountered before. There were no glowing symbols, no floating artifacts, no signs of the innate ability that should have been waiting there. Instead, there was only endless emptiness—like staring into the depths of space without any stars to guide the way. He reached out with his spiritual sense, searching every corner of this inner realm, but found nothing at all. It was as if his talent had vanished completely, leaving only a hollow space where it should have been.
An hour later, the sounds of the awakening ceremony on the playground were still drifting through the windows—cheers, announcements, and the occasional burst of light as another student awakened their talent. But Bai Hao had already opened his eyes, his face pale with frustration and helplessness. He'd spent half the day trying to connect with his own abilities, and had nothing to show for it. Not even a single flicker of progress.
A wry smile crossed his lips as he thought about all the online novels he'd read in his past life. In those stories, shouldn't the protagonist hear a "ding" sound by now, with a mysterious system suddenly appearing in their mind to guide them on their path to greatness? He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to dislodge the thought, making sure he hadn't missed any imaginary "ding" that would signal the start of his own legendary journey. After a moment, he let out a soft sigh, completely giving up on his fantasy. It seemed that in the real world—even a world with psychic powers—impossible dreams wouldn't make him stronger. The only way forward was to work hard, stay humble, and find practical solutions to his problems.
"Looks like my only option is to try finding a Spirit Master to form a spirit contract with…" Bai Hao murmured to himself, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. He'd been avoiding this option, knowing how difficult it would be to find someone willing to work with a Profound-rank Envoy, but he had no other choices left. Once a spiritual contract was formed between a Master and an Envoy, their minds would be linked on a fundamental level—allowing the Master to sense the Envoy's innate talent, understand its nature, and help them develop it properly. He planned to use this connection to let another person's perception unlock the mystery of his own abilities, to see what he himself was unable to find in his Sea of Consciousness.
He rummaged through his worn canvas backpack for a moment, pushing aside textbooks, loose papers, and a half-eaten pack of biscuits before finally pulling out a thin manual bound in simple gray cardboard. The pages were printed on standard A4 paper, with black ink that was already starting to fade in places. This was the "Basic Spiritual Breathing Method"—the fundamental cultivation technique publicly released for free by the Xia Kingdom's Ministry of Education. It was designed to help ordinary people awaken their spiritual sense and maintain basic physical health, but its limitations were well-known. If someone had no connections to get into a good psychic academy or no family resources to buy advanced techniques, this simple manual might be the only cultivation guidance they'd ever access in their entire lives.
Of course, wealthy families and powerful clans operated by completely different rules. For them, the Basic Breathing Method was nothing more than a children's exercise—something taught to toddlers before they moved on to far more advanced techniques. The higher the level of a cultivation method, the faster and stronger one's cultivation power would grow, and the fewer obstacles they'd face when advancing through the ranks. These rare and powerful techniques were strictly controlled by a handful of top-tier families, government agencies, and elite universities—and the best among them couldn't be bought with money, no matter how much one had. This exclusive control over knowledge was one of the main motivations for many ordinary students to push themselves to the breaking point, doing whatever it took to get into elite psychic universities.
Within these prestigious academies, the rules were clear: as long as a student accumulated enough contribution points—earned through academic achievements, research projects, or completing missions for the school—and maintained good grades, they could exchange their points for access to secret cultivation manuals. The deeper an institution's academic heritage, the older and more valuable its collection of texts would be. Universities like Qingbei Sacred Academy or the National Institute of Psychic Studies possessed techniques that dated back thousands of years, passed down from master to student through countless generations. Naturally, the influence of these institutions extended far beyond the classroom, shaping national policy and global power dynamics.
But this access came with heavy responsibilities. Anyone who obtained any texts from the academy—whether basic or advanced—was required to swear a binding oath in the name of their own spiritual essence or their contracted spirit being, promising never to leak the content to outsiders. The oath was enforced by psychic magic, creating a mark in the oath-taker's Sea of Consciousness that would trigger severe consequences if broken. Once signs of leakage were detected—whether intentional or accidental—special enforcement teams from the Ministry of Psychic Affairs would be dispatched to handle those involved. Legend had it that students who dared to reveal high-level cultivation methods to unauthorized individuals simply vanished without a trace, their homes left empty and their names erased from all records…
Though there was no concrete evidence to confirm these stories, Bai Hao was convinced they were true. He'd seen enough in his past life to know that power always protected itself, and in a world where knowledge was the most valuable currency of all, eliminating those who violated core interests was far from uncommon.
"Who should I choose as my Spirit Master?" Bai Hao asked himself, pushing himself up from his chair and leaning against the classroom window. He gazed out at the playground below, where students were still gathering in small groups, discussing their talents and forming preliminary contracts. From his vantage point, he could see Mu Wanqiu surrounded by a crowd of admirers, her slender figure standing out even from this distance.
From a purely practical, profit-oriented perspective, a Spirit Master with higher talent would naturally be a better choice—someone whose abilities could complement his own and help him progress faster. By that standard, Mu Wanqiu was clearly the optimal pick among all the students at Suzhou-Hangzhou No. 1 High School. Her Saint-level talent meant she'd almost certainly be admitted to the best universities in the country, giving her access to resources that would benefit any Envoy she contracted with. Unfortunately, with his mere Profound-rank assessment and no clear ability to demonstrate, Bai Hao knew he probably wouldn't even be able to catch her attention, let alone convince her to form a contract with him. She was already being pursued by Earth-rank and even some Heaven-rank talents from other schools; what would she see in an unknown student with a mediocre assessment?
He'd observed Mu Wanqiu closely over the past few weeks, and knew there was more to her than met the eye. While she seemed gentle and kind on the surface—always smiling, always willing to help others—she was actually very determined and strong-willed. Once she made a decision about something, she rarely allowed herself to be influenced by others or swayed by emotions. Only her natural shyness and dislike of conflict made her appear hesitant or indecisive to outsiders. As someone who'd spent several years in the workforce in his past life—dealing with office politics, difficult bosses, and competitive colleagues—Bai Hao had a far clearer understanding of human nature and social dynamics than the enthusiastic but naive young people out on the playground.
Sadly… his thoughts drifted back to memories from his previous life, when he'd known Mu Wanqiu long after their high school days were over. After graduating from high school with top honors, she'd gone on to study at Qingbei Sacred Academy, eventually earning a master's degree in Spiritual Medicine. She'd stayed on as a teaching assistant, and her career had progressed exceptionally well—rising through the ranks to become a professor by the time she was thirty. They'd met again at their ten-year class reunion, held at a luxury hotel in the city center. By then, she carried herself with a quiet poise and composure that had been absent in her youth, having shed the naive sweetness that had drawn so many admirers. The only thing that hadn't changed was her stunning appearance—ten years had left no visible marks on her face or figure, and the maturity she'd gained had only added to her natural charm.
Rumor had it among their former classmates that she still wasn't married then, and had never been in a serious relationship. At the time, he'd found those rumors impossible to believe. After all, she was one of the most beautiful and successful women he'd ever known—surely she must have had hundreds, even thousands of admirers vying for her hand. How could someone so exceptional have never found a partner?
Then, during the reunion dinner, something unexpected had happened. As the evening was drawing to a close and people were starting to leave, Mu Wanqiu had somehow made her way through the crowd to where he was sitting alone at the bar. She'd smiled at him—the same gentle smile she'd worn in high school—and struck up a conversation about their shared memories from class. Before she left, she'd taken the initiative to pull out her phone and add his contact information, saying she wanted to "keep in touch with old classmates." Back then, he'd thought she was just being polite—doing her best to make everyone feel included—and hadn't bothered to message her afterward. As he'd expected, she'd never sent him any messages either, and their brief reconnection had faded into memory like so many other things from his past life.
Bai Hao shook his head vigorously, as if trying to physically drive away these distracting thoughts. He couldn't afford to get lost in memories now—not when his future was hanging in the balance. His most urgent task was to find a suitable Spirit Master who was willing to work with him, regardless of his low rank. But as he thought more about it, a new problem began to weigh on him—what exactly was he supposed to show potential partners? He had no clear abilities to demonstrate, no visible talents to display. Should he just walk up to someone and ask them to guess what his power might be? The very idea made him want to groan in frustration. This was truly a headache