The main gate of Orlick Junior Soul Master Academy looked even lower up close than it had from afar.
The wooden doors were somewhat old, their edges worn pale by time, yet they had been wiped clean. There were no guards at the entrance, no welcoming banners—only a plaque set into the stone wall, its characters simple and clear.
Orlick Junior Soul Master Academy.
Li Changsheng followed the flow of people into the grounds.
The path beneath his feet shifted from loose gravel to smooth bluestone slabs, and his field of vision widened at once. Several low teaching buildings were scattered across the courtyard. The layout was not complex, but it was orderly. A large open space had been left in the center of the academy grounds, its surface marked with countless traces of repeated trampling—clearly a training field for daily use.
A familiar scent lingered in the air—
Sweat, dust, and a faint metallic tang.
Very real.
This was not the "starting point of dreams" described in books, but a place meant to screen, temper, and eliminate.
The newly arrived students were guided to gather at the edge of the open field. There were not many of them—just over forty—coming from different villages, dressed in different clothes, yet all unconsciously straightened their backs.
No one spoke.
Because not far away, several academy instructors were already standing there.
At the front was a middle-aged man. He was not particularly tall, dressed in simple gray training attire, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze swept calmly over the crowd. It was not sharp, yet it made people instinctively restrain themselves.
"Quiet."
The voice was not loud, but it was steady.
The field fell completely silent at once.
"From this moment on, you are no longer children of your villages."
"This place does not look at origin or background. It looks at only three things."
He raised one finger.
"First, soul power."
A second finger.
"Second, attitude."
A third finger.
"Third, whether you can survive and persist."
The words were plain, without embellishment, yet more than a few people swallowed unconsciously.
"Orlick is only a junior academy."
"But those who can graduate smoothly from here have never been everyone."
He paused, his gaze lingering briefly on their faces.
"Now, report in order: name, age, martial soul, innate soul power level."
"Concealment or false reporting—once discovered—means immediate expulsion."
No one questioned it.
The moment the rules were set, this place ceased to be about "choice" and became one of "selection."
The first few students stepped forward quickly.
"Wang Shi, six years old, martial soul: hoe, innate soul power level one."
"Liu He, six years old, martial soul: wooden shield, innate soul power level two."
"Zhou Lin, six years old, martial soul: short blade, innate soul power level three."
Some spoke crisply; others' voices tightened. Each time a soul power level was announced, several faint, passing glances swept across the crowd.
Subtle—but undeniably present.
When it was Wang Lin's turn, the atmosphere shifted noticeably.
"Wang Lin, six years old, martial soul: black-patterned ant, innate soul power level five."
As soon as the words fell, several gazes focused on him.
There was no hostility—only an instinctive assessment—
This person would most likely go farther in the future.
Wang Lin looked slightly nervous, yet deliberately straightened his back, clearly aware of the change.
When it was Li Changsheng's turn, he stepped forward.
"Qin Chuan, six years old."
His voice was not loud, but it was clear.
"Martial soul: iron sword. Innate soul power level two."
There was no uproar, no extra reaction.
It was a number that disappeared entirely in the crowd.
The instructor merely nodded and recorded it in the register, not sparing him a second glance.
This, instead, eased Li Changsheng's mind.
Keeping a low profile was precisely the most suitable position for him at present.
After registration, the instructors divided the group into several columns.
"Dormitories will be assigned by number. Before the afternoon, you are not to leave the academy grounds without permission."
"The first basic test will be conducted this afternoon."
"Dismissed."
There was no ceremony, no encouragement.
It was as if a batch of materials had been formally placed onto an assembly line.
The crowd quickly dispersed. Some whispered to one another; others remained silent. Li Changsheng followed the directions to his assigned dormitory.
The room was small—four wooden beds, one long table—simple to the point of austerity. The window faced the inner courtyard, offering a view of one corner of the training field.
Two people had already arrived.
One of them was the boy who had walked alongside him on the road earlier. Seeing Li Changsheng, he gave a brief nod, saying nothing more. The other sat on the edge of his bed, repeatedly wiping his short-bladed martial soul, his expression focused.
A brief silence settled.
Li Changsheng set down his pack and sat on the edge of his bed.
At that moment, he suddenly sensed something extremely subtle.
Not from the outside.
But—
From within.
The "iron sword" martial soul, while his soul power was in a stable state, gave an exceedingly faint tremor.
It did not feel out of control. Rather, it felt like—
A response.
Li Changsheng's expression did not change, but his heart tightened slightly.
He lifted his gaze toward the window.
On the training field, an instructor stood at the center. The sword in his hand remained sheathed, yet it already radiated a sharp, cutting presence.
The air itself seemed to be sliced open for an instant.
In that moment, Li Changsheng became incomparably certain of one thing—
This academy was not simple at all.