Chapter no.2 Let's think of a Plan

[ Holy Orchid Institute, Fighter Apprentice class ]

The morning light filtered through the tall latticed windows of the classroom, painting long bars of gold across the rows of desks. The air held the faint scent of polished wood and ink, mixed with the distant fragrance of the flowering trees in the courtyard. Over thirty students filled the room, their voices a low hum of excitement and curiosity. Books, scrolls, and writing brushes were scattered across the tables, though few were paying attention to them.

Most of these students were between twelve and fifteen years of age, still in the early stages of training. They wore the standard deep-blue robes of the Holy Orchid Institute, the hems stitched with faint silver patterns marking them as members of the Fighter Apprentice division. Some sat upright, eager and attentive, while others slouched in their seats, exchanging whispers and sideways glances at the figure at the front of the room.

"I heard the new teacher is Shen Xiu," a boy muttered to his neighbor, leaning close so as not to be overheard. "They say she's one of the Sacred Family's three-star Silver rank Demon Spiritualists."

"That's way above the level of anyone who usually teaches here."

The murmurs died down as the woman stepped forward.

Shen Xiu's presence commanded attention without a single word.

She was tall, with a posture so composed it seemed sculpted. Her long straight hair burned with a deep red sheen, gathered high into a ponytail that cascaded past her waist. A few loose strands framed her face in a way that softened her otherwise commanding features.

Her skin was fair and smooth. Her eyes were a striking amber-brown, and they carried the gaze of someone who measured people the way a jeweler measured stones, weighing their worth before deciding whether to keep them or toss them aside. In that gaze lingered pride, and beneath the pride, an arrogance so deeply ingrained it felt as natural as breathing.

Her lips were painted the shade of fresh wine, curved in a faint, knowing smile that did not quite reach her eyes. The dress she wore was a fitted shade of deep lavender, sleeveless, with high slits along the sides that revealed long toned legs with every subtle shift in stance. White embroidered designs wound along the edges of the fabric, and the cut at the chest left just enough revealed to draw the eye without seeming careless. A bright yellow fur rested around her shoulders, its softness a deliberate contrast to the sharper lines of her outfit.

The room had gone quiet now, every student aware that this was not an ordinary instructor.

Shen Xiu belonged to the Sacred Family, one of the three major houses of Glory City, and carried the authority of her bloodline like a cloak. Her cultivation as a three-star Silver rank Demon Spiritualist was a level most here could only dream of reaching, and it gave her the right to stand before them with her chin lifted just so.

She did not normally waste her time with beginning students. This posting had not been her choice, and everyone who knew her suspected she had accepted it only because her nephew happened to be in this class.

For a moment, she simply regarded the rows of students without speaking. The silence stretched. A few shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while others stared back with open awe. Shen Xiu's gaze drifted over them, as though she was already deciding who among them was worth her attention and who was not.

Only then did she incline her head the slightest fraction, as though granting them the courtesy of her voice.

"Demon Spiritualists and Fighters are the backbone of human strength. There are five ranks, each a wall that must be climbed: Bronze, Silver, Gold, Black Gold, and Legend rank. Every rank is divided into five stars, from the first to the fifth. Those stars mark the difference between mediocrity and greatness."

The students sat straighter. Some scribbled in their notes, others simply stared, caught between awe and confusion.

"A Demon Spiritualist," she continued, allowing the words to linger in the air, "is above a mere Fighter. We are a noble existence, set apart. We form a soul realm within our dantian, a sanctuary for our power. We bind captured demon spirits to that realm, merging with them in battle to wield strength no Fighter could hope to match."

A faint smile curved her lips as her chin lifted slightly higher. "Just as I have done. My companion spirit is the Scarlet Flame Fox."

Her transformation began without hurry, as though she enjoyed giving them time to take in every detail. Her cheekbones sharpened subtly, her canines lengthened, her nails tapered into curved glistening points. A flicker of crimson shimmered along her skin as a scarlet tail unfurled behind her.

Gasps scattered through the room. Someone in the second row dropped their quill.

"Once merged, I not only draw upon the Scarlet Flame Fox's physical strength, but also its affinity for fire," she said. "The Scarlet Flame Fox is a Gold rank demon beast. That means my limit, without replacing it, is the Gold rank Demon Spiritualist realm. Of course, once I reach that stage, I can exchange it for something greater."

Her eyes swept the class with satisfaction. "Power is a ladder, and I am already far above the first steps."

The room held a moment of stillness before a low murmur spread. For most of them, even touching Gold rank was a dream.

Meanwhile at the back of the class, Nie Li barely heard her words. His gaze was fixed on his own hands.

He turned them over slowly, palms trembling, as though afraid they might vanish if he looked too hard. Then, almost without thinking, he pinched his forearm. The sting bit sharply into his skin. It was real.

A sound escaped him and the edges of his vision blurred. Warm tears welled up and slid down his cheeks.

"This… this isn't a dream," he whispered. His voice trembled as though speaking might shatter the moment. "I'm alive. I came back."

The classroom faded from his awareness. All he could feel was the weight of that truth pressing into him. The world had given him another chance.

"Hey, Nie Li. Why are you crying?"

The voice pulled him back. He looked up into a familiar face. A boy with unruly spiky blue hair, bright light-blue eyes, and a crooked grin. His gray robe hung loosely on his lanky frame, as though he had only just thrown it on before running to class.

"Lu Piao," Nie Li breathed, his lips trembling.

In his last life, Lu Piao had been his closest friend. Both of them from small aristocratic families, both lacking in talent, both hopelessly lazy. They had wasted hours together, skipping practice, joking in the library when they should have been studying, daring each other into foolish bets, and chasing after girls far out of their reach.

Nie Li's chest tightened. Had Lu Piao survived the horde last time? Or had he fallen, like so many others? That stupid, reckless luck of his… maybe it had carried him through. Maybe not.

He swiped at his face quickly, not wanting to let the tears linger. "I… I had a bad dream."

Lu Piao barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. "A dream? What are you, five years old? You're crying over that? If you keep this up, no girl in the Institute is ever going to even look in your direction."

Nie Li gave a short snort despite himself. Even in this life, Lu Piao hadn't changed. Still fixated on girls. Still quick with a joke. Still hopelessly lazy.

But this time, Nie Li thought, narrowing his eyes slightly, that cannot go on.

"You two in the back," Shen Xiu's voice cracked across the room like a whip, "what is so important that you must interrupt my lecture?"

The air in the classroom seemed to tighten. Heads turned toward the back row. Lu Piao's smirk faltered, and for the briefest second he looked like a boy caught stealing from the kitchen. Then, his survival instincts kicked in.

"Teacher," Lu Piao said quickly, raising his hand as though confessing, "Nie Li here was telling me he's crying because of a bad dream."

A ripple of amusement ran through the class. Nie Li's jaw tightened. He knew this was the first day, and he and Lu Piao weren't close yet, but still…

"Did you hear that?" someone in the middle row called out, grinning. "Should we fetch his mommy?"

"Maybe a warm blanket too," another added, earning a few snickers.

"Careful," a boy near the front said mockingly, "he might wet himself if the lecture gets too scary."

Laughter flared openly now, spilling across the room. Shen Xiu's lips curved in a cold smile as she unrolled a scroll.

"Nie Li," she read, her voice dripping disdain, "red soul realm. Current soul force, five. Strength, twenty-one."

A soul realm's grade is differentiated by the colours: red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, azure and indigo. Of the seven different grades, red is considered the worst. It's the weakest to the lowest level. An average person would have an orange or yellow soul realm. Having a green or cyan soul realm could already be considered a genius. As for azure and indigo soul realms, they have only existed in legends.

The laughter sharpened, no longer subtle.

"That's pathetic."

"Even the weakest girls in class could beat that."

"Why is someone like him even here?"

"Five soul force? My little brother has more than that."

The words pelted him like small, sharp stones, but Nie Li did not so much as blink. Inside, he welcomed every jeer, every sneer. In his past life, he had done far worse than sit through mockery. He had abandoned his cousin to die, betrayed the trust his parents had placed in him, and shamed the faith of his aunt and uncle. In the end, he had perished like a stray dog, forgotten and worthless. Compared to the crushing weight of that failure, the laughter of his classmates was nothing at all.

But acceptance was not the same as surrender. He had a second chance now, and he would not waste it. Still, the question burned: how?

Even if he somehow regained the cultivation he had reached in his past life, it would mean little. A mere three-star Bronze rank Fighter was nothing in the grand scale of Glory City's power. In the eyes of the strong, that level was barely above a commoner. And even if he poured every waking moment into training, grinding away until his body broke, his meager talent would still chain him to mediocrity.

So… what path was left to him?

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, the sound cutting through the laughter.

"Teacher Shen Xiu," he began, his voice steady but low, "my nightmare was that a demon beast horde broke through Glory City's walls."

The laughter faded into uneasy murmurs.

"That's… dark."

"Why would he dream about something like that?"

Nie Li's gaze swept the room, meeting no one's eyes but making sure every word carried. "I dreamed of watching my family torn apart before my eyes. My mother's voice turned into screams. My father's sword breaking in his hand. My friends crushed under rubble. And I could do nothing. Nothing but run. I ran until my lungs burned, until the screams faded… and all I could hear was my own footsteps and the sound of my heart breaking."

Silence pressed in.

"I woke up," Nie Li said, his voice catching just slightly, "with that cowardice still in my chest. With the memory of my own weakness clawing at me. And I realized that if it ever happened again, I would probably still run. Because right now, I am too weak to protect anyone."

A long moment passed. Nie Li turned toward Shen Xiu, and bowed deeply. "Teacher Shen Xiu… if that day ever comes, I don't want to be the boy who runs again. I am asking you. Please tell me how I can change that future."

The class did not laugh this time.

"…He's serious," one boy muttered under his breath.

"I thought he was just some lazy kid," another whispered, "but…"

Shen Xiu looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable.

Normally, Shen Xiu would have dismissed such a question without a second thought. To her, the fear of a child was nothing more than an overactive imagination. Something fleeting, insignificant, and irrelevant to the real struggles of cultivation. Yet with the acute perception that came with being a Silver rank Demon Spiritualist, she noticed something unusual.

Ye Ziyun was listening.

The girl's posture had shifted ever so slightly, her bright eyes focused on Nie Li, her expression softened by something between empathy and curiosity. That alone was enough for Shen Xiu to pay attention.

Ye Ziyun was no ordinary student. She was the daughter of Glory City's City Lord, the granddaughter of the Legend rank Demon Spiritualist Ye Mo, and the bearer of a rare cyan soul realm. She was destined for greatness, the kind of greatness that would change the balance of power in Glory City.

Few in the Holy Orchid Institute knew of her true status. Fewer still understood how coveted her presence was. If Shen Yue, Shen Xiu's nephew, could win Ye Ziyun's hand, the Sacred Family's position would be elevated to unprecedented heights. It was no coincidence that Shen Yue was here in the Fighter Apprentice class, nor was it coincidence that Shen Xiu had taken the post to teach this very group.

And now, with Ye Ziyun visibly moved by the boy's words, Shen Xiu saw an opportunity to plant a seed in her mind.

She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that masked condescension with the veil of authority. "Nie Li," she said, "your little nightmare is touching, but the truth of this world is far harsher than your story. Talent is the foundation of all power. Without it, you will always be a blade without an edge. The path to strength is not for the weak of spirit, but it is even less for the weak of blood. You are like a cup without depth. No matter how much water is poured in, it will never hold enough to make a difference. For people like you, the only sensible path is to bow your head and cling to those who are truly strong. Protectors from noble families. Patrons with real cultivation. Otherwise, you will die just as you described, crushed under the claws of beasts while the world forgets your name."

A ripple of whispers passed through the class.

Nie Li's fists clenched on his desk, the tendons in his hands standing out. "There has to be a way," he said, his voice low but steady, as if forcing the words out past the lump in his throat.

Shen Xiu's patience was thinning. The stubbornness in his tone was the sort of thing she normally crushed without hesitation. Still, Ye Ziyun's attention had not wavered, and Shen Xiu had no intention of souring her impression. She let out a quiet sigh, one that suggested reluctant concession rather than genuine sympathy.

"The only way forward for someone without talent," she said, "is to obtain the kind of cultivation techniques that only the sovereign families guard and to consume vast resources to force your body upward, step by step. But understand this: it would be nothing more than pouring gold into a cracked jar. A colossal waste for most, tolerated only by those foolish enough to think a dead tree can bloom again. And if by some miracle you succeed, it will not erase the truth of what you are. Trash polished is still trash in the eyes of the strong."

Her words hung in the air like a blade.

Nie Li sat back down, his gaze lowered but not in surrender. Murmurs swept the room, some mocking, others curious. Shen Xiu noted with satisfaction that Ye Ziyun had begun speaking quietly with Shen Yue, no doubt about the topic she had so skillfully steered toward.

When the class settled, she straightened and unfurled a scroll. "Now then. After the recent testing, among the students here, Ye Ziyun—with a cyan soul realm—has a soul force of eighty-six. Shen Yue and Xiao Ning'er both have a green soul realm, with a soul force of seventy-eight. They will soon reach one-star Bronze rank. Congratulations to them."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the back of the room, meeting Nie Li's eyes. There was no defeat there. Only a quiet, burning resolve that seemed far too heavy for a boy his age. She recognized it instantly, for she had once carried that same fire in her own youth, when she still believed that the laws of the world could be bent by will alone.

Under most circumstances, she would have scoffed and turned away, content to let reality crush such naïve defiance. Talent still ruled the world, and she had learned that lesson through hardship and compromise. Yet something in that moment, perhaps her unusually good mood, or the warmth of seeing her nephew in cheerful conversation with Ye Ziyun, softened her edge. A flicker of memory, of her own younger self standing stubborn in the face of impossible odds, made her hesitate.

Let him try, she thought, almost with a trace of reluctant fondness. The world may break him, but maybe… just maybe, he will surprise it first.

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Dong. Dong. Dong.

The deep clang of the bell rolled across the tiled rooftops and stone walls. Classes at the Holy Orchid Institute were over for the day.

Students poured out through the towering gates in a wave of chatter and colorful uniforms, their voices mixing with the sharper calls of merchants stationed just outside. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, leather, and the faint metallic tang of polished steel.

"Latest Bronze rank battle armors with authentic Snow Wind Patterns! Noble ladies and gentlemen, step right up!" A vendor in a grey tunic called out with a salesman's cheer. He lifted his arms wide as though he could embrace the crowd into his stall.

His shout drew a small knot of curious students. Bronze rank armor was beyond the reach of most commoners, but the Institute was home to the sons and daughters of merchants, nobles, and even minor aristocrats. If nothing else, they could gawk and dream.

"Look at that... Snow Wind Patterns," one boy murmured, leaning closer.

On the vendor's table lay a pair of gauntlets glowing with a cold blue light. Intricate carvings spiraled across the surface, catching the light like frost on glass. A breath of chill seemed to cling to them, raising goosebumps on the skin.

"How much?" a student asked in a voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid speaking too loud would commit him to buying.

"Sixty thousand demon spirit coins," the vendor said with a practiced smile.

Several gasps followed.

"Sixty thousand… that's insane," someone muttered. "My father couldn't make that in ten years."

The vendor leaned forward, lowering his voice into something conspiratorial. "These are no ordinary gauntlets. The Snow Wind Pattern was inscribed using the blood of a Snow Wind Banshee at her peak. Do you know how rare it is to bring one down alive? And the moment she fell, her spirit froze the very ground. That is the strength bound into these gauntlets, ideal for a Snow Wind fighter or demon spiritualist. Attack power like this cannot be bought with coin alone. This is an heirloom in the making."

A few students lingered longer, eyes drawn to the frosted gleam, but reality won out.

Lu Piao whistled low as the crowd thinned around the armor stall. "Sixty thousand demon spirit coins… for Bronze rank. Imagine what Silver costs. A hundred thousand? Gold… probably more than my family's entire wine cellar." He let out a short laugh. "And believe me, our wine cellar is big enough to get half the city drunk."

He tucked his hands into his sleeves. "I get five hundred coins a month. Five hundred. That's already more than most students here. And I'm supposed to be grateful for that, but when you see prices like this…" He shook his head. "Kind of makes you wonder if all this training is just an expensive hobby for the rich."

Nie Li didn't respond. His eyes weren't on the gauntlets for their price, but on the question of what to do next. He forced himself to think clearly. What advantages did he still have right now? The most important was his knowledge of the future. Before the demon beast horde attacked, there had been a chain of major events, each one shifting the balance of power in the city. If he could anticipate them and act at the right moments, he could turn those events into opportunities. With the right moves, he could build something far greater for himself in this life.

Lu Piao nudged him. "Come on, man. Joke's over."

Nie Li blinked. "What joke?"

"The whole nightmare thing in class." Lu Piao smirked. "You had half the girls looking at you like you were some war hero with a broken heart. Don't pretend you didn't notice. I've been trying to get that kind of attention since I was ten, and all I ever get is a 'move out of the way, Lu Piao.' So… what's the secret?"

He thinks this is about girls. About attention. Gods, he doesn't see it at all. If I told him what really happened, he'd laugh or tell me it's impossible. And then we'd lose time. Time we don't have.

"This isn't going to work."

"What isn't?" Lu Piao frowned.

"This version of you. The lazy, lecherous teen who floats through life chasing skirts, taking naps, and pretending the world's not dangerous."

Lu Piao grinned, trying to shrug it off. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

"It is," Nie Li said flatly. "You're wasting your time. Wasting yourself."

"Oh, here we go," Lu Piao sighed. "You sound exactly like my father now. 'Work harder, be better, think of the family name.' I get enough lectures at home, I don't need them from you too."

"Don't you want to be a Demon Spiritualist? Don't you want to be strong enough that no one can decide your life for you?"

Lu Piao hesitated, then laughed without humor. "I've got a red soul realm, Nie Li. Red. That's the bottom of the pile. Even with my family's elixirs, I might scrape by as a Fighter if I put in the effort. But a Demon Spiritualist? That's climbing a cliff with no rope. I'm not stupid. I'd rather spend my life enjoying what I can reach than breaking myself over what I can't."

"You're wrong," Nie Li said. "I have a plan."

Lu Piao rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. Let me guess it is some grand scheme to save the city, win glory, and live happily ever after? And all because of what? A bad dream?" His smile turned sharp. "You're still spooked over that, aren't you? Your family dying. Boo hoo. Get over..."

The crack of fist on jaw was loud enough to make the nearby vendor flinch. Lu Piao's head snapped to the side, spittle and a thin spray of blood leaving his mouth. He staggered, boots scuffing the packed dirt, and crashed shoulder-first into a table stacked with bronze bracers. The vendor cursed and yanked the merchandise back just before Lu Piao toppled onto it.

He hit the ground hard, palms slapping down to catch himself. The sting in his jaw spread into his temple. For a second, all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears.

Gasps and low voices rose around them. Students drifted closer, some wide-eyed, others grinning at the prospect of a fight on the first day back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Never talk to me like that again."

If you knew what those words meant to me, you'd choke on them before letting them out. But you don't. You have no idea what I've already lost.

Lu Piao's shoulders shifted, his stance adjusting instinctively from years of martial training. His body wanted to hit back. The crowd seemed to lean in as if expecting the next blow. But the pressure of dozens of eyes settled on him. Aristocrat. First day of term. Fighting in the street like some drunk from the lower quarter. And that look in Nie Li's eyes… it wasn't bluster. It wasn't anger for show. It was something harder, something that said he'd follow through until one of them couldn't stand anymore.

Lu Piao's jaw tightened. His fists loosened. "This isn't worth it," he muttered, turning his back.

"Then what is worth it? Living soft and waiting for the day fate grinds you into the dirt? Is that it?"

Lu Piao didn't break stride. He slipped between two taller students and disappeared into the moving mass of uniforms and chatter.

The blue hair vanished into the churn of uniforms, but not before Lu Piao glanced back once. His eyes were shadowed, unreadable, and in that brief moment Nie Li couldn't tell if it was anger, hurt, or something else entirely. Then the crowd closed, and Lu Piao was gone.

I wanted you to swing at me. To stay. To fight beside me because I don't know if I could do this alone.

The boy thought while the skin across his knuckles flushed and tightened from the blow. Voices from the crowd pressed in as snippets of whispers, the faint edge of laughter, the quick rustle of fabric as students shifted uneasily. He forced himself to breathe slower. The street's noise began to return, but the eyes stayed on him.

"Very good, I'm lacking Bronze rank gauntlets. Wrap these up for me," Shen Yue said with casual arrogance, as if the earlier commotion had been nothing more than background noise. Anyone who knew the boy could see he was trying to make himself the center of attention.

"Yes, young master!" The vendor's face split into a wide grin as he moved quickly to pack the gauntlets in soft cloth.

"Here's sixty thousand demon spirit coins."

Shen Yue's smile stayed fixed as he slid the demon crystal cards across the table, but his fingers lingered on the gauntlets a fraction longer than needed, as though holding on to their weight reminded him of what he had that others didn't. His gaze flicked to Ye Ziyun, who was watching Nie Li, not him, and something tightened in his jaw. The gauntlets disappeared into his interspatial ring, a smooth motion meant to look effortless, but his posture had stiffened.

Several girls nearby exchanged glances, eyes glittering with interest. Their smiles turned coy, but Shen Yue didn't spare them more than a flicker of attention. His gaze swept past them, finding Nie Li in the crowd.

Nie Li, unaware or uncaring of Shen Yue's glare, lifted his head and scanned the crowd one last time.

His jaw was a silent grind of teeth. Losing an ally this early hurt more than he wanted to admit. For a heartbeat, doubt whispered... maybe he really would have to face everything alone. Then he shut it down. Doubt was a luxury. The path ahead was too narrow for hesitation, and if he had to start without anyone beside him, so be it.

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The Holy Orchid Institute was more than just a school.

It was a self-contained world within Glory City's walls, a sprawling compound of tiled roofs, stone courtyards, and wide training grounds where the sons and daughters of every social class studied the ways of cultivation. Most commoner students lived year-round in the dormitories that were simple wooden buildings arranged like military barracks. The wealthier families, however, purchased houses in the nearby districts so their children could travel back and forth each day. For them, the Institute was merely a stop in their daily lives. For the poor, it was their whole life.

Nie Li's lodging was on the eastern side, far from the main gates and the bustling market streets. The walk there was quiet, lined with neat rows of willow trees whose branches swayed in the evening breeze. When he slid the paper door open, he was greeted by the familiar stillness of his room.

It was plain to the point of austerity. The wooden floorboards were scrubbed smooth, the sleeping mat neatly folded in the corner. A low writing desk sat near the window, accompanied by a single stool. The only decoration was a faded scroll painting of the Glory City walls at sunset, its colors muted with age. In the corner, catching the last light of dusk, stood a tall ceramic pot containing a single bamboo shoot.

Nie Li stepped closer. The bamboo was dark as iron, its stalk smooth and unyielding beneath his fingertips. It was not an ornament. This was iron bamboo, renowned for its incredible hardness. His father had given it to him with one simple purpose, to use it as a training tool. If he could snap it in two, it would mean his body had reached the raw strength of a five-star Bronze rank Fighter. In his previous life, he had trained against it for years and had never managed to break it. Not once.

This time would be different.

He knelt by the desk, pulled out a blank notebook, and began to write. His first goal was clear. He needed to accelerate his cultivation as quickly as possible, and cultivation was not free. Elixirs, demon crystals, rare beast materials were needed and none of it came cheaply.

He tapped the brush against the page. Money. That was the obstacle.

For the kind of speed he wanted, he would need not just thousands, but millions of demon spirit coins. Possibly tens of millions. Even one million demon spirit coins was equivalent to the annual income of a mid-level aristocratic family. Where could he possibly get that much?

In Glory City, demon spirit coins were the foundation of value. A common family could live comfortably for a year on two or three thousand coins, covering food, clothing, and shelter. The Holy Orchid Institute's annual tuition was roughly three thousand coins. A sum that strained many commoner households to their limits. Yet they still scraped it together, year after year, because sending a child to the Institute was a gamble worth taking. Even reaching the level of a Bronze rank Fighter could transform a family's fortunes.

A Bronze rank Fighter who joined the city's army could expect to earn five to six thousand demon spirit coins a year in salary. The ambitious ones could venture into the St. Ancestral Mountains, risking their lives to hunt demon beasts or harvest rare herbs, potentially earning several times that amount if they returned alive.

Nie Li's own family, the Heavenly Mark Family, was a shadow of what it once was. The Patriarch, a one-star Gold rank Demon Spiritualist, presided over dwindling estates and a shrinking business network. Their annual income was around six hundred thousand demon spirit coins, but the expenses were crushing. Just paying the school fees for the younger generation consumed half of that sum. The rest vanished quickly into maintenance, provisions, and debts. More than once, the family had been forced to sell property simply to keep the children enrolled at the Institute.

The Patriarch had made his stance clear. One outstanding youth could restore the family's prestige and prosperity. Even if it meant living under constant financial strain, the family would give its brightest young members every resource they could spare.

Nie Li set the brush down and rubbed his temple. There were ways to make money, some quick, some slow, some dangerous.

He could join the army. The pay was modest, but the benefits of regular combat experience and potential loot from the St. Ancestral Mountains were tempting. Yet the army meant following orders and risking being sent to the front when the demon beast horde came. Not ideal if he wanted control over his own time.

He could work as a merchant, trading in materials and goods between the market and the Institute's students. But that would require starting capital which he did not yet have.

Or he could hunt demon beasts himself. The risk was enormous, especially at his current level, but the profit from rare materials could be staggering.

His fingers brushed the edge of the iron bamboo. In the end, all the money in the world meant nothing if he lacked the strength to keep it. And that, he reminded himself, was his true goal.

Nie Li leaned back from the desk, scratching the back of his head as he tried to force his mind into focus. The notebook lay open in front of him, half-filled with numbers, lists, and small notes that made sense only to him. Somewhere in the mess of ideas, there had to be a path forward.

Then it struck him. Purple Haze Grass.

A small smile tugged at his lips. It was an unremarkable herb to most people, something farmers planted along the edges of their fields to keep away pests. Cheap, abundant, and hardly worth noticing. But in a few years, someone from the Alchemist Association would stumble upon the research diary of an obscure, long-dead alchemist buried deep in their library archives. That diary would completely change how Purple Haze Grass was used.

He remembered the details vividly. In his previous life, Lu Piao had never shut up about it. That discovery had made headlines throughout Glory City. The herb, when processed a certain way, could be used to make a type of herbal bath far more potent than any common tonic. The baths were cheap to prepare, yet their effects on cultivation were extraordinary. Lu Piao himself had used them to push into the three-star Bronze rank in record time.

"Maybe I could buy large quantities of it before the discovery happens," Nie Li muttered under his breath, tapping the brush against the desk. "Release the information early, then sell it at ten times the price."

It was a solid plan, but there was a problem. To control the market, he would need to buy in bulk, and that meant a huge upfront investment. At least a hundred thousand demon spirit coins. And to truly legitimize the discovery early, he would need access to that dead alchemist's notes in the Association's private archives which required influence and connections he did not yet have.

To make money, I need money, he thought grimly, turning to a fresh page.

Another issue loomed in his mind. His cultivation technique. The Heavenly Mark Family's true technique was reserved for direct descendants of the main branch. As a lesser member, he had been given only the most basic method, the same one taught at the Holy Orchid Institute. It was functional, but barely. He could still remember Shen Xiu's sneering lectures in class, her condescending tone reminding every student that the techniques they practiced were little more than scraps compared to those of the great families.

Cultivation techniques were more than breathing exercises. Each one was a carefully balanced blend of martial forms, spiritual focus, and meditative chants designed to draw in the energy of heaven and earth into the flow of qi and guide it through the body's network of meridians. Properly used, they strengthened the soul realm, sharpened memory to near perfection, and allowed a practitioner to go without sleep for days. The stronger the family, the more refined and efficient their technique, and the faster their disciples could rise in rank.

A sovereign family's technique would be the dream. Even a noble family's method would be an incredible advantage. But these were not things one could simply buy. They were guarded more fiercely than gold or treasure. No family in Glory City would willingly hand theirs over to an outsider.

For a moment, a darker thought crossed his mind. Ye Ziyun. She was from the Snow Wind Family. If he threatened to reveal her identity, perhaps he could pressure her into giving him their cultivation technique. He immediately shook his head. That kind of leverage could backfire disastrously. One wrong step and he would be the one facing ruin.

Nie Li put a line through the section in his notes marked Cultivation Technique. That was a problem for later.

He rested his chin on his hand, eyes narrowing. What did he have that no one else did? His knowledge of the future.

He had seen the markets rise and fall. He remembered when rare treasures appeared for sale, only to vanish into collectors' vaults for decades. The trick was choosing which opportunities to act on, and when.

Slowly, his brush began to move again. "Let's list everything that will happen," he murmured. "Every disaster, every discovery, every shift in the city. Then I'll decide where to strike first."

Nie Li drew a straight line across the page, the brush moving with deliberate care. At the far end, he marked a single point in bold ink. Start of Summer, five years from now.

That was when the demon beast horde would come.

He paused, staring at the black mark as if it were a shadow looming over him. Every choice he made now had to point toward surviving that moment and beyond. Taking a slow breath, he began to write along the line, listing the major events that would unfold in the years leading up to it.

The discovery of the Ancient Orchid City Ruins' treasury.
The Inscription Incident.
The fall of Xiao Ning'er.
The betrothal of Ye Ziyun.
The discovery of Purple Haze Grass.

There were more, but his knowledge of them was hazy. He had lived those years once before, but not every secret had been his to see. He left the unknowns blank.

His brush hovered over the first item. Ancient Orchid City Ruins.

The ruins were the bones of a civilization that had been dust for untold centuries. But in just over a month from now, the heir of the Divine Family would lead an expedition there. Hidden deep in those crumbling halls was a treasury brimming with relics, rare metals, and ancient scrolls. Everyone who walked out of that place had their fortunes changed. Some sold their finds for millions of demon spirit coins. Others used what they discovered to strengthen themselves and leap across cultivation ranks.

People talked about it for months, shaking their heads and saying, if only we had been there… if only we had known. Nie Li and Lu Piao had been no different, sitting on the dorm rooftop and imagining what they might have found, laughing bitterly at the thought. By then, all they had were rumors and the dull ache of knowing the chance was gone forever.

One particular memory stood out where Du Zhe, a commoner Nie Li had known well, had managed to buy a scroll from one of the expedition members. It was an unassuming relic to most, but Du Zhe had used it to break into Gold rank as a Demon Spiritualist. That single purchase had turned an ordinary man into a force to be reckoned with.

Nie Li could still recall several other items from those ruins that would later become famous in Glory City, their value skyrocketing once their uses were understood. If he could claim even one of them, his path to power would be secured.

He set his brush down for a moment, tapping it against the desk in thought. "I need a plan to get into this expedition," he murmured. This was not the kind of journey one could simply join. Access would require either proof of exceptional skill or powerful connections within one of the noble houses. Neither came easily. But both were possible.

His eyes moved to the next name on the list. The fall of Xiao Ning'er.

A faint shadow passed over his expression. Xiao Ning'er was not just a talent of their generation. She was one of its brightest stars.

Nie Li remembered clearly how, in his previous life, Xiao Ning'er had disappeared from the public eye for two long years. The reason, so far as the city knew, was an illness no doctor could name and no medicine could cure. In truth, few outside her family had ever learned the details, and those who did never spoke of them openly. Rumors shifted from whispers of an internal injury to the work of a rare curse. Whatever it was, it had hollowed out her strength, left her body frail, and slowed her cultivation to a crawl.

She had been born into privilege, yet her life was anything but enviable.

In order to curry favor with the Sacred Family, the Winged Dragon Family had forced her into an engagement with Shen Yue's elder brother. Xiao Ning'er had refused. In defiance of her family's will, she had left everything behind and ventured deep into the Black Devil Forest of the St. Ancestral Mountains.

Nie Li's jaw tightened. In this life, he could help her. He told himself that. But deep down, he also knew he could use this to change his own fate. Survival required leverage, and she was one of the few pieces on the board worth moving early. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but sentimentality had no place in the plan he was building.

He pushed the thought aside and turned his mind to the last two major events.

The so-called Inscription Incident was one of those secrets the city would deny had ever happened. In his past life, it had been like a spark snuffed out before it could burn. The Sacred Family's founder had claimed to have created sixteen inscription patterns, a monumental achievement that culminated in the Saint Fire Inscriptions. This feat had cemented the family's prestige for generations.

But the truth was uglier. Those patterns had been stolen from the Lightning Flame Burst Pattern, an ancient design protected under the Demon Spiritualist Code of Conduct. In the right hands, that revelation could have shattered the Sacred Family's reputation and weakened their hold on the city. In his previous life, the truth had slipped into daylight for the briefest moment inside his own classroom, when a sharp-eyed commoner recognized the pattern in a battered reference book and spoke up.

By the end of the day, that boy was gone. No one ever saw him again. The book vanished from the library shelves as if it had never existed, and the Sacred Family's honor remained spotless. The city had returned to business as usual, but Nie Li had not forgotten.

Finally, there was the betrothal between Ye Ziyun and Shen Yue. It was one more thread he could tug if he played the game carefully enough.

For the next hour, he sat cross-legged on his bed, mapping and remapping strategies in his head. By the time the candle burned halfway down, a framework had taken shape.

First, he would place himself at Shen Yue's side. By feeding the boy's vanity and helping him court Ye Ziyun, Nie Li could win his trust and gain access to the Ancient Orchid City Ruins expedition.

Second, through Shen Yue's connections, he could slip into the Alchemist Association's private archives. There, long before anyone else thought to look, he would find the lost research on Purple Haze Grass.

Third, armed with that knowledge, he would approach Xiao Ning'er under the guise of an alchemy enthusiast who could help her illness. If she believed him, she might fund bulk purchases of Purple Haze Grass, allowing him to control the market when its hidden properties were revealed.

Fourth, the Sacred Family's stolen inscription patterns. If he could confirm their theft and hold that knowledge in reserve, he might extract their cultivation technique without directly confronting them.

The more he considered it, the more the pieces fit together.

Satisfied, Nie Li opened his notebook, tore out the pages one by one, and rolled them into a tight bundle. He held the edge over the lantern flame. The paper caught quickly, curling and blackening as orange tongues devoured the ink. The smell of burning parchment filled the small room.

If anyone ever found these notes, they would ask questions he could never answer without risking his life. Better to erase them completely. The flames reflected in his eyes as he watched the last scraps crumble into ash.

When it was done, he turned toward the corner, where the potted iron bamboo stood.

He flexed his fingers and took a deep breath.

The first punch landed with a dull, resonant thunk. Pain shot up his arm instantly, sharp enough to make his vision tremble. The skin across his middle knuckles split open, and blood welled to the surface, warm and slick against the cool night air. He hissed between his teeth but did not stop.

He struck again, harder. The shock jolted through his bones, numbing his wrist. Blood smeared across the bamboo in uneven streaks, the crimson bright against the pale green.

His breath came heavier now, but he kept going.

When his fists finally dropped to his sides, they were raw, trembling, and bloodied. Yet Nie Li's eyes held a fire that no pain could smother. He looked at the unbroken bamboo, at the faint new mark on its surface, and allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

This time, he thought, his life would be different.