Another year had passed in the quiet halls of the Silent Scroll Academy. I was now on the cusp of my ninth birthday, and the end of my second academic year was approaching. The impending two-month break was a familiar, gnawing pressure in the back of my mind. It was a countdown timer. A promise I had to keep.
A memory surfaced, unbidden, from the last time I had made this journey. Elara, standing in the dusty sunlight of Holy King Village, her face a mask of playful anger.
"Jin! So you finally decided to return," she had said, hands on her hips.
"It's good to see you too, Elara," I had replied, a genuine, helpless smile on my face. Seeing her pout like that was disarming; like a daughter chiding her father.
"Of course you're happy to see me! I'm not happy with you! Why didn't you come to Nuoding Academy? I thought we'd go together!"
"My martial soul isn't suited for a battle academy," I had explained, the lie smooth and practiced. "But how about this? We meet every year during the holidays, and I'll always bring you a gift."
Her anger had melted slightly, replaced by a proud declaration. "Fine. But you better keep that promise! You have to keep up, you know. I'm a Rank 13 Spirit Master now!" As if to prove her point, she had let her Martial Soul Possession take hold. Her ears elongated, becoming vulpine and sharp; her nails and canines grew longer, and her hair seemed to ignite with a fiery red hue as a single, brilliant yellow Spirit Ring pulsed around her. She was a true genius, and a wave of pride, quickly followed by a cold dose of reality, had washed over me.
"Alright, alright, call it back," I had chuckled. "I promise."
That promise echoed in my mind now. She was progressing. The world was progressing. And I, hidden in the shadows, could not afford to stagnate. It was time. The Dark Fire Lion was waiting.
My preparations began with a formal deception. I gathered my notes, bound them neatly, and walked towards the Dean's office, my face a mask of scholarly diligence.
"Junior Brother Jin, off to your second home?" a familiar voice called out with lighthearted sarcasm.
I turned. "Senior Brother Huo Luo," I greeted with a polite smile. "One can only gather knowledge when one has a weak martial soul."
In the two years since we'd met, Huo Luo had become a familiar, friendly presence. He was a kind soul, blissfully unaware of the ghost he spoke to. "Don't say that," he said, his expression turning serious for a moment. "My father always says knowledge itself is a form of power. I'm sure you will be formidable in the future."
"I can't compare to you, Senior Brother. I heard you already reached Rank 16," I deflected.
He waved it off. "Never mind that. What business do you have with the Dean?"
"I'm here to request a leave of absence for a research project," I said, presenting the stack of papers.
His eyes lit up. "My father is inside. Come, I'll help you."
As I learned a year ago, Huo Luo was the Dean's son. His presence was a boon I hadn't anticipated but would readily use. Inside the office, a man of about thirty-five looked up from his documents. "Huo Luo? And Student Jin. What can I do for you?"
"Father, Junior Brother Jin is here to request leave for a field study," Huo Luo explained, signaling for me to step forward.
I bowed slightly. "Dean Huo, I wish to request a leave of fifteen days to study the unique flora of the Vexing Thicket." I handed him my meticulously fabricated research proposal, complete with sketches and theoretical applications.
The Dean reviewed the pages, his expression unreadable. "This is thorough. But a fifteen-day leave will cause you to miss your classes."
"Dean, I completed the curriculum for the first four years of study last semester," I replied calmly.
The Dean's eyebrows shot up. Huo Luo stared at me, his mouth slightly agape. "Is that so?" the Dean said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Very well. Answer a few questions for me, and the leave is yours."
For the next ten minutes, he grilled me with twenty questions from the fifth and sixth-year curriculum. I answered each one calmly and correctly.
He let out a hearty laugh. "Hahaha! Excellent! Student Jin, you truly are a prodigy of the mind! You only need a Spirit Ring to graduate entirely! Leave granted!"
"Junior Brother... you're really something else," Huo Luo muttered, still looking shocked as we left the office.
My plan had worked. After purchasing basic supplies—dried rations, water, and a vial of a pungent powder to mask the scent of blood—I headed for the city gates. My inquiry at the carriage stand was brief.
"The Vexing Thicket? One gold coin," the driver grunted, eyeing my simple work-study robes. The price was absurd, a clear attempt to fleece a student. It cost ten copper coins to get to my village.
"No, thank you," I said, turning away without another word. The cost was a reminder of my current state. Power was not just about spiritual strength; it was about the freedom to command the world. I had none.
I would walk. I always walked alone.
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Three hours of brisk walking brought me to the edge of the Vexing Thicket. The air grew thick and humid, the sounds of the city replaced by the hum of insects and the rustle of unseen things. My body, passively purified by the Primordial Judgmental Sword, handled the trek with ease, feeling stronger than most Spirit Masters twice my rank.
I found my vantage point by dusk: a small, hidden cave on a high cliff face, a perfect ghost's nest. From here, I could see the Dark Fire Lion's lair below.
For six days, I lived on that cliff. My life became a cycle of silent observation. I watched the lion emerge, a magnificent beast of black fur and smoldering embers, arrogance in every step. I cataloged its habits, its patrol routes, the exact stones it favored.
And I began to curse it.
Each curse was a whisper from the Book of Misfortune, a subtle nudge to fate, too small to cause a significant backlash. On the second day, Curse manifested as a swarm of biting flies that denied the beast sleep. On the fourth, Curse caused it to stumble during a vital pounce, allowing its prey to escape. Each day, the lion grew more agitated, more weary. A deep, hostile Karmic Link was now forged between us, a taut wire humming with my intent.
On the morning of the seventh day, it was time. The lion emerged from its cave, looking haggard and furious. It leaped onto the high cliff at the mouth of its cave to survey its territory—the very spot I had been waiting for.
From my hiding place, I summoned the Book of Misfortune. It materialized silently, its pages flipping to a blank slate. 'I can't determine the exact outcome,' I reminded myself, my focus narrowing to a razor's edge. 'I can only introduce the concept and be ready for the result.' I poured nearly half of my soul power into the book, focusing my will not on a specific command.
The power surged from me. Below, as the lion stood proudly, the unpredictable nature of misfortune took hold. The earth beneath its paws didn't just crumble—it sheared away in a massive, clean break. 'So that's how it manifested. A landslide. Perfect.'
With a roar of shocked fury, the beast tumbled down the sharp incline, its body crashing against the rocks below. It landed in a heap, its front leg bent at an unnatural angle. It was weakened. It was vulnerable.
My moment had come.
I descended the cliff with the silence of a falling shadow. The enraged, injured lion sensed me at the last second, turning its head to unleash a torrent of black fire. I dodged, the heat washing over me as I moved, my footwork a product of two years of relentless practice.
I was already upon it. "Primordial Judgmental Sword!"
The world grew cold. My one-minute timer began. I did not waste an instant. All of my remaining soul power, all of my focus, poured into a single, devastating thrust. I became the technique.
Single Point Judgment.
Chiiii!
The tip of my sword, glowing with condensed power, did not just aim for flesh. It aimed for the conceptual flaw in the beast's spirit. It struck the lion's skull, piercing bone and brain with absolute, undeniable finality.
The roar died in its throat. A brilliant yellow ring of light rose from the corpse.
After spreading the scent-masking powder, I sat before my first kill and began the absorption. The ring flowed into the Book of Misfortune, and a wave of pure soul power washed through me. The process was smooth, the foreign energy seamlessly assimilated by the purifying aura of my Sword. My rank surged, settling solidly at Rank 15.
As expected, there was no Spirit Skill. I felt no new, flashy abilities or elemental concepts enter my arsenal. Instead, I felt the Book of Misfortune itself grow stronger, more stable. The chaotic, malevolent energy within it seemed to settle, becoming more orderly and efficient under my control. It was a fundamental upgrade to the tool itself.
This meant the soul power cost for my curses would now be slightly lower. The potential backlash from targeting powerful enemies would be dampened. It wasn't a flashy power-up, but for me, it was the best possible outcome: a direct reduction of personal risk.
I stood, my body thrumming with newfound power. My connection to the Primordial Judgmental Sword had also deepened. The one-minute time limit I had before was now gone, replaced by a much more reassuring two minutes. It was a monumental leap. Powerful enough, I suspected, to challenge a newly ascended Spirit Grandmaster.
I looked at the corpse, then back at the path leading to civilization. My face was a cold, emotionless mask. The judgment was complete. Now, it was time to gather some plants and return to the library.