Chapter 15

In just over a week, Jiang Xia lay bedridden again, and only after thorough examinations by multiple doctors was he officially discharged.

Stepping out of the hospital gate, Jiang Xia instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes from the incoming sunlight, squinting for a few seconds before fully relaxing his shoulders.

Lying in bed for over a week had left him feeling constantly uncomfortable; now that his feet touched solid ground, even his breathing felt smoother.

“Old Xia! Over here!”

A familiar voice called from the roadside; Jiang Xia turned to see Wang Teng running toward him, waving his arms, while Ye Lingxi stood beside a black sedan, holding a paper bag.

Wang Teng reached him and slapped his shoulder: “Finally, Itachi’re out! I confirmed with the Wen Dao Academy yesterday—Lingxi and I are taking Itachi straight there for registration. Your dorm’s already reserved!”

Ye Lingxi stepped forward and handed him the paper bag: “Fresh hot soy milk and pork buns—Itachi ate too blandly in the hospital. Eat something first.”

Jiang Xia took the bag; his fingers brushed the warm packaging, warmth spreading through his chest as he smiled and thanked her.

Just as the three were about to get in the car, Jiang Xia’s gaze froze on the golden emblem embossed on the sedan’s window—identical to the one on his admission letter in his pocket.

Wang Teng followed his gaze and added with a grin: “This car was sent by the Wen Dao Academy. Dean Liu specifically ordered it—he said Itachi just got out of the hospital, so don’t tire yourself out. We’re going straight to campus.”

As the sedan left the city, tall buildings gave way to endless green trees; after about forty minutes, the main gate of the Wen Dao Academy finally came into view.

The car slowed to a stop before the academy’s main gate. Jiang Xia opened the door and his eyes met two stone qilin, over a zhang tall, their bodies a dull gray, yet their eyes glowed with a soft, warm light—not stern like ordinary statues, but imbued with scholarly grace.

Above the gate, the three characters “Wen Dao Academy” were rendered in golden clerical script, each stroke thick and weighty, as if every line concealed sacred truth; when the wind blew, one could almost hear the faint rustle of turning pages.

The gate opened, and a registrar teacher hurried over to Jiang Xia: “Student Jiang, Dean Liu has already registered your information. Itachi’ll share a dorm with Wang. Your military training uniform and spirit stones are inside your storage ring.”

He then pulled a silver storage ring from his pocket and handed it to Jiang Xia before answering a call and hurrying off.

“Wait… Itachi’re sharing a dorm with me?” Jiang Xia held the silver ring, turning to Wang Teng, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Just days ago, Wang Teng had been complaining that the single rooms at Wen Dao Academy could hold plenty of valuable items—how had it suddenly become a shared room?

Wang Teng scratched his head, looking innocent: “I didn’t know either! Yesterday, when I confirmed, the teacher said they’d reserved a single room for Itachi—how did it change today?”

He leaned closer and poked Jiang Xia’s storage ring. “Still, a storage ring’s great—way more space than a backpack.”

Ye Lingxi added softly: “Perhaps it was Dean Liu’s arrangement? Itachi just got out of the hospital—sharing a room with Wang Teng means someone’s there to look out for Itachi.” She paused, looking at Jiang Xia. “Besides, the spirit stones in the ring should last Itachi a while for cultivation.”

Jiang Xia traced the ring’s engraved patterns, probing its interior with his spiritual energy—it wasn’t small. Inside lay a set of deep blue military training uniforms, beside which rested a cloth bag containing roughly fifty spirit stones, and a thin booklet titled “New Student Handbook of Wen Dao Academy.”

He stared at the spirit stones and grimaced—this amount wouldn’t even last two days for his Big Appetite System.

He idly flipped through the handbook and found: “Some new students may be assigned shared dorms to facilitate mutual cultivation support.” Below it, his and Wang Teng’s dorm number was noted: Songfeng Courtyard 302.

“Fine, shared dorm it is,” Jiang Xia said, tucking the ring away with a resigned smile.

With that, the three walked to the dormitory entrance. After bidding farewell to Ye Lingxi, Jiang Xia and Wang Teng followed the signs toward Songfeng Courtyard. Students grew more numerous along the way—most wore the same military training uniforms as Jiang Xia’s, and occasionally, upperclassmen passed by, books clutched in their hands.

“I heard this year’s military training instructors are soldiers from Shanhai Pass’s Demon-Suppressing Army.”

Wang Teng pointed toward the training ground, eyes gleaming. “When the time comes, with our strength, we’ll show off big time during training and draw in a bunch of girls—hey hey hey!”

Jiang Xia sighed and rubbed his temple at Wang Teng’s idiotic grin. He was about to pull him back to reality when a mocking voice came from beside them: “Brother Wu, this little fatso is daydreaming in broad daylight?”

Jiang Xia turned toward the voice and saw two boys in military training uniforms standing beneath a ginkgo tree.

The speaker was tall and thin, chin tilted up, eyes brimming with undisguised contempt as he elbowed the boy beside him.

The one called Brother Wu was muscular, his training uniform stretched taut over his frame, a faint brown scar visible on his neck—his demeanor carried more menace than the thin boy’s.

Hearing the remark, Wu Qi didn’t speak immediately. Instead, his eyes blazed with combat intent as he locked onto Jiang Xia: “Itachi’re Jiang Xia, right? I’m Wu Qi. I’ve heard rumors this year’s new class had an SSS-tier talent admitted without testing—was that Itachi?”

He deliberately stressed “SSS-tier talent” and “special admission,” his tone laced with open skepticism—as if such privilege came too easily.

Wang Teng bristled: “Wu Qi, right? Old Jiang was personally invited by Dean Liu—what’s your problem?”

The thin boy sneered: “What’s it got to do with Itachi, little dreamer? Get lost.”

Wang Teng glared at him, but before he could retort, Wu Qi laughed coldly: “So what if Dean Liu personally invited him?”

He rubbed his neck scar. "I spent a year in the Demon-Suppressing Army's reserve camp, completed countless missions, and killed nearly eight hundred to a thousand third- and fourth-rank demons—only then did I earn my admission to Wen Dao Academy."

He stepped forward, his towering frame leaning slightly, deliberately unleashing the battlefield-honed ferocity radiating from his body—making Wang Teng instinctively clench his fists. “Every demon I killed, every drop of blood I spilled—I earned my place the hard way.”

His gaze fixed on Jiang Xia’s silver storage ring, his contempt deepening. “And Itachi? Itachi walk in with nothing but the title of ‘SSS-tier talent,’ no sword drawn, no blood spilled, just riding the academy’s car.”

“Does a qualification like that even deserve to stand beside those of us who fought for it?”

Wu Qi looked down at Jiang Xia with disdain: “So what if Dean Liu values Itachi? Wen Dao Academy needs cultivators who can bear responsibility—not flowers raised in a greenhouse!”

Jiang Xia listened, baffled. He turned and whispered to Wang Teng: “Fatso, doesn’t he know about the secret realm?”

Wang Teng snapped to attention and lowered his voice to Jiang Xia’s ear: “After that day, the Night Watch sealed the news and made all students present sign confidentiality agreements—so very few know about it.”