The holographic alarm blinked precisely at 6:00 AM, its gentle chime resonating through the sleek bedroom walls of a high-rise apartment in Songhai City. Jiang Luo's eyelids stirred, fluttering like soft silk under morning light filtered through translucent nanoglass. He didn't need the alarm. He never did. His body had long adapted to the discipline of waking naturally—but routines, even unnecessary ones, helped him blend in.
He swung his legs over the bed and let his bare feet touch the temperature-regulated floor. The view beyond the window stretched over Songhai City, a sprawling metropolis teeming with floating transport pods, skyrails, and the distant hum of spiritual towers piercing the clouds. The golden rays of the artificial sun bathed the buildings, giving them a divine hue.
Jiang Luo walked into the bathroom. With precise movements, he washed up, ran his fingers through his black hair, and stared into the mirror. His reflection stared back—black hair, faint blue highlights under light, sharp features, and eyes that held a deep calmness uncommon for a boy of seventeen.
To the world, he was just another high school student. Another teen navigating the educational system of the Cultivation Era.
But even in the casual flick of his fingers as he brushed his teeth, there was precision. Intention. A perfection that only centuries of hidden knowledge could craft.
Downstairs, breakfast was waiting. Jiang Mu, his father, sat at the dining table, reading from a levitating script that adjusted font size to his eye movements. Jiang Mu wore a simple gray tunic, a common look for retired cultivators who had returned to a mundane lifestyle.
"Morning, Luo'er," his father greeted without looking up.
"Morning, Dad."
Xuan Yi emerged from the kitchen with a smile, placing a plate of synthetic meat buns and spirit-infused tea on the table. "Eat well. Your first day back at school after the break. You don't want to be late."
Jiang Luo nodded and sat down. The breakfast looked simple, but he could detect the faint traces of tier-2 vitality enhancement in the tea and low-grade essence in the buns. It was how his mother showed care—quietly, through alchemy-infused cooking.
"Any anxiety?" Jiang Mu asked, finally looking up.
Jiang Luo shook his head. "None."
His father's brows twitched. "You're always too calm."
Xuan Yi laughed softly. "It's better than being a troublemaker like you were, Mu."
Jiang Mu feigned offense. "I was ambitious, not rebellious."
They shared a laugh while Jiang Luo sipped his tea in silence.
After finishing, Jiang Luo grabbed his black uniform jacket, a sleek, nanoweave material inscribed with the emblem of Songhai No. 5 Cultivation Academy. The phoenix-crest shimmered under light.
"I'm off."
"Be careful, son," Xuan Yi called. "And don't get into duels unless you're challenged. Again."
"I won't," he lied gently.
He stepped into the elevator and descended seventy floors. At ground level, cultivators in training robes, executives in robesuits, and commoners bustled through the district. Songhai City was always awake, always moving—an eternal dance of progress and pressure.
Jiang Luo boarded a public transit pod, which hovered off the ground and zoomed along blue energy rails. Inside, students in matching uniforms chatted noisily.
"Hey, it's Jiang Luo!"
A girl with orange-dyed hair waved at him. Han Ruo, his classmate. Energetic, bubbly, and a constant chatterbox.
"You're back! I heard you didn't take part in the Spirit Trials this vacation."
"I didn't," he replied calmly.
"Not interested in competing?"
"Not this year."
She made a face. "Geez, you're always so mysterious."
The pod stopped near the Songhai No. 5 Cultivation Academy, its gates guarded by spiritual constructs. Students poured out, passing through aura scanners and ID totems. The school was built like a fortress—with pagoda towers, floating halls, and a central courtyard that held a spiritual lake reflecting the sky.
Jiang Luo walked through the gates, receiving a few glances. Some were admiration. Some were curiosity. But most simply dismissed him.
That was how he preferred it.
Inside his classroom, Class 3-A, familiar faces greeted him. The instructor hadn't arrived yet, and groups had formed. Students were showing off refined techniques, boasting about their breakthroughs over the break.
Jiang Luo quietly took his seat in the second row near the window.
"Yo, Luo," a boy plopped beside him—Zhao Ren, the self-proclaimed top dog of Class 3-A. He grinned with a fang-like tooth. "You ready for ranking matches next month?"
"I suppose."
Zhao Ren chuckled. "You always act like nothing bothers you. But don't slack this time. I'm aiming for top ten, and if you stay at your old pace, I'll surpass you."
Jiang Luo offered a polite nod. "Good luck."
He wasn't lying. Zhao Ren would surpass him—if he allowed it.
Moments later, the doors hissed open as a tall man with gray streaks in his hair and a stern aura entered.
Instructor Wei.
"Everyone, settle down."
The class stood and bowed. "Good morning, Instructor Wei."
"Sit."
He looked around the classroom, eyes sharp as blades. "Welcome back. This semester, the competition intensifies. Spirit Exams are two months away. Failure is not an option. We'll begin with a spiritual assessment today. No one is exempt."
Whispers rose in the classroom. Jiang Luo simply leaned back.
One by one, students were called up to place their hands on the assessment pillar—an obelisk of glowing jade embedded with measuring crystals. A swirl of colors lit up depending on their Qi density, affinity, and spiritual alignment.
"Han Ruo!"
The girl stood proudly and placed her hand.
"Qi Density: Tier 5. Elemental Affinity: Wind. Spiritual Alignment: Harmonized."
Cheers erupted. That was a solid result.
"Zhao Ren!"
"Qi Density: Tier 4. Elemental Affinity: Fire. Spiritual Alignment: Wild."
Applause followed again.
Then—
"Jiang Luo."
All eyes turned.
He walked up, composed. Calm.
Instructor Wei narrowed his eyes slightly. Jiang Luo had always been... peculiar. Strong, yet never too strong. Consistent, but not enough to draw suspicion.
Jiang Luo placed his hand on the stone.
The jade glowed faintly. Then, a soft white light.
"Qi Density: Tier 6. Elemental Affinity: None. Spiritual Alignment: Null."
A few gasps. Then chuckles.
"No affinity again?" someone snickered.
"Tier 6, though. He's tough."
"But without any affinity, he can't progress far."
Jiang Luo returned to his seat.
Zhao Ren gave a thumbs-up. "Still solid. But bro, no affinity's rough. Ever consider hiring a spiritual therapist?"
Jiang Luo offered a small smile.
Instructor Wei frowned, staring at the pillar. The reading was too faint. Too calm. As if the boy hid his presence entirely.
But he said nothing.
Class resumed, but Jiang Luo tuned out the noise. The lectures. The voices. He stared outside the window, watching spirit birds fly across the sky.
In the next two hours, the students would train their basic techniques. Practice low-tier spells. Test their stamina in guided sparring.
And he would be just another boy. One among many.
Yet unknown to them, under his skin pulsed a cosmos of power that could unmake the heavens.
But for now—he played his role.
He was Jiang Luo, a boy with no affinity.
And class had just begun.
By midday, the vast stone practice ground at the rear of Songhai No. 5 Cultivation Academy echoed with grunts, bursts of energy, and shouted incantations. Dozens of students formed pairs, each performing sparring exercises under the supervision of instructors.
Jiang Luo stood quietly in the corner, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the others train. His black uniform swayed slightly in the breeze as students around him released bursts of Qi — fiery crescents, gusts of wind, rippling shockwaves.
"Jiang Luo," Instructor Wei called, glancing at a list on his holographic scroll. "You're partnered with Zhao Ren."
Zhao Ren beamed as he strode toward Jiang Luo, his knuckles cracking, his fiery spiritual aura already flickering around him like an open flame.
"Don't go easy on me, Luo," Zhao Ren said, grinning.
"I won't," Jiang Luo replied politely.
The other students gathered to watch. Despite his lack of affinity, Jiang Luo was known for having solid combat form and an unnervingly calm presence.
They took their stances. Instructor Wei raised his hand.
"Begin."
Zhao Ren launched forward immediately, his movement erupting with red-hot sparks. His body technique, [Crimson Tiger Steps], propelled him in a zigzag motion, making him harder to predict. His right fist ignited with spiritual fire as he roared:
"[Flame Burst Palm]!"
The attack surged toward Jiang Luo's chest.
Jiang Luo sidestepped with a subtle tilt of his torso, avoiding the attack by a margin too slim to calculate. His hand moved — not to strike, but to redirect Zhao Ren's wrist with a soft parry.
Zhao stumbled forward slightly, surprised.
He recovered fast, spinning into a sweeping kick laced with burning Qi. "Try dodging this!"
Jiang Luo ducked under the arc and touched Zhao Ren's shoulder with his palm, gently shifting his balance and sending him tumbling backward.
The crowd winced. Not because it was a harsh move — but because it was too precise. Too effortless.
Zhao Ren hit the ground and rolled, popping up again, panting.
"Okay… okay," he muttered. "You're really something."
Instructor Wei squinted. "Match ends. Jiang Luo wins."
The murmurs among the watching students rose.
"He dodged everything without using a single technique."
"Again?"
"How does he do that?"
Jiang Luo stepped back, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve, and gave Zhao Ren a small nod of respect. "Good form."
Zhao scratched his head and laughed. "You're annoying. You don't even look like you're trying."
"I'm just efficient."
Classes resumed after sparring, with theoretical lessons on advanced cultivation theory, spiritual law, and elemental compatibility. Jiang Luo answered the occasional question with soft, accurate replies, never raising his voice, never drawing attention. He earned quiet praise from instructors, and quiet confusion from his peers.
But the most striking moment came during the afternoon meditation session.
Each student was instructed to sit in silence and focus on drawing ambient spiritual energy into their cores — a basic but essential skill in cultivation.
Instructors walked between rows, checking for proper posture and breathing rhythms.
Jiang Luo sat under a sakura tree, its leaves pink and shimmering with faint runes. His eyes were closed, hands resting on his knees, palms up.
But unlike the others, he didn't absorb the spiritual energy.
He simply sat.
Around him, the energy paused. Like birds resting on a wire.
The instructors passed by and noted his posture. "Stable," one muttered. "But no draw rate. As expected."
What they didn't see — couldn't see — was how the world itself tilted slightly around him. Spiritual energy obeyed him without request. Without effort.
He breathed, and all things waited.
At the end of the session, students were dismissed.
"Luo!" Han Ruo called as they packed up. "Let's walk home together!"
"I'm taking the pod today," he said, waving lightly.
She pouted. "You're always dodging people."
He said nothing and turned toward the transit gate.
As he left the academy, he passed by the large bronze statue of a cultivator holding a scroll and sword — the founder of the school, Master Yun Zhi. The plaque beneath read:
"Power without wisdom is chaos. Wisdom without power is silence."
Jiang Luo paused briefly to look at it.
He already had both. But chose neither.
The ride home was quiet. He didn't take the public pod but opted for the city's walking pathways instead — luminous roads weaving through floating bridges and cherry-lit parks.
When he reached home, the lights auto-adjusted to his presence. Xuan Yi called from the kitchen.
"Back already?"
"Yes."
"Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."
He went to his room and sat at his desk, looking over the textbook on Elemental Laws: Intermediate Theories. A bookmark rested where he last left it — not because he needed it, but because habits made him normal.
He flipped it open, eyes scanning through theories he had long since transcended.
A ping echoed from his desk. A message.
Han Ruo: Zhao Ren's challenging you again during the practice session tomorrow! Lol. I think he's convinced you're secretly training with some legendary master.
Jiang Luo typed back: I'm not.
Han Ruo: Then why are you so good at everything? Come on, tell me. Are you secretly from some clan?
He didn't reply.
He stood and opened the window instead.
The city sparkled under the artificial starlight, a view of controlled skies and manipulated seasons. Songhai City was beautiful — designed to feel like heaven's shadow.
Yet to Jiang Luo, it was like a painting. Vibrant, detailed... and flat.
He closed the window.
Dinner was simple — rice with beast meat stew, and tea. Jiang Mu asked about school, and Jiang Luo replied briefly, offering nothing unusual.
They laughed as a family. Smiled as a family. No one noticed the subtle weight that hung in Jiang Luo's eyes.
When night fell, and his parents went to sleep, Jiang Luo walked out onto the apartment balcony.
The wind blew softly. Streetlights blinked below like city-fireflies.
Jiang Luo raised his hand toward the sky, fingers spread.
A single particle of dust floated down from the night.
He caught it.
To anyone else, it would've looked like nothing. But Jiang Luo stared at it.
"Even now, the laws here are too fragile. This world… wasn't built for me."
He released the dust. Let it drift.
Then, with a gentle sigh, he stepped back into his room and closed the door.
The city carried on, unaware of the boy in black — the one born in a time he didn't belong, in a world that couldn't understand him.
Tomorrow, he would return to school.
And the disguise would continue.