In the late afternoon, Lu Yuan caught sight of the outline of Nuoding City.
Grayish-black city walls lay stretched across the horizon, towering much higher than the dirt ramparts of Maple Leaf Town.
Tiny black dots of patrolling guards moved along the battlements, several banners fluttering lazily.
The gate tower boasted swept eaves and carved arches, while the arched entrance below looked pitch-black, like an open maw.
The flow of people gathered here, growing dense.
The closer he got, the more palpable that invisible pressure became.
Outside the city gate archway, two teams stood guard.
They wore ash-white uniforms with an emblem embroidered on the chest depicting a crossed sword and sceptre—Spirit Masters of Spirit Hall.
Eight of them in total, their gazes scraping across the crowd like blades.
They spoke little, their movements crisp and precise.
When someone pulled out a wooden plaque or badge to flash at them, the guards nodded and let them pass.
Others were stopped, questioned, and had their luggage searched.
Lu Yuan stood at the tail end of the queue, shuffling forward slowly.
He observed closely.
When a middle-aged man in silk robes presented a silver family badge, the guard instantly straightened his back, his face splitting into a broad smile.
When several youths in blue-and-white academy uniforms showed the copper school badges pinned to their chests, the guard merely glanced at them before waving them through.
Then came a man carrying a traveling pack.
A guard barred his way.
“Where from?” “Blackrock Village, up north.” “What are you entering the city for?” “Selling furs to trade for salt and medicine.” The luggage was flipped open for inspection—a few animal pelts and mountain produce.
After prodding around with a scabbard a few times, the guard waved his hand.
“Go on in.
Remember the rules.” Only two or three people remained ahead of Lu Yuan.
He took a deep breath, clutching the pack in his arms a bit tighter.
“Next.” The voice was flat.
The Spirit Master in charge of questioning was in his thirties, with a long, thin face and sharp eyes.
His gaze lingered on Lu Yuan—patched old clothes, mud-stained trouser legs—before finally landing on his face.
“By yourself?” “Yes.” “Where from?” “Maple Leaf Town.” “Maple Leaf Town?” The Spirit Master pondered briefly.
“That small place in the northwest of Star Luo?
What are you doing coming all the way here?” “I want to see if I can enter an academy,” Lu Yuan said softly, but clearly.
The Spirit Master raised an eyebrow.
“How old?
Has your Martial Soul awakened?” “Six years old.
It awakened—Blue Silver Grass, Rank 0.5 Innate Spirit Power.” Another guard nearby couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, though he quickly checked himself.
The thin-faced Spirit Master’s expression didn’t change much.
He nodded.
“A trash Martial Soul plus trash Spirit Power, running all the way to Nuoding City…
You certainly have ambitious ideas.” His tone was hard to read—neither distinctly sarcastic nor purely objective.
“Luggage.” Lu Yuan placed his pack on the ground and untied it.
A few old clothes, half a flatbread, a leather waterskin, the oil-paper-wrapped notebook, and a small cloth bundle—containing the Bristle-Rat hair samples.
The Spirit Master used his scabbard to push aside the clothes, flipping open the oil paper.
“What’s this?” “Notes for learning to read.” The Spirit Master untied it and flipped through a few pages.
Neat handwriting and simple diagrams, with dried bloodstains in a few places.
After glancing at it, he closed it and tossed it back.
He then prodded the small cloth bundle.
“And what’s this?” “Rat hair picked up along the road.
I wanted to see if I could trade it for a little money.” Lu Yuan lowered his eyes.
The Spirit Master opened it, picked up a stiff hair to inspect, curled his lip, and threw it back.
“Bristle-Rat fur isn’t worth anything.
The general store in the city buys it—about two copper spirit coins per jin.” “Thank you, sir.” The Spirit Master waved his hand.
“Get in.
Remember the rules, don’t cause trouble.” Lu Yuan tied up his pack, hoisted it onto his back, and stepped into the city gate tunnel.
Shadows engulfed him.
His footsteps echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling.
After walking a dozen paces, the bright light and clamor from the other end burst upon him.
He narrowed his eyes.
The street was wide, its green flagstones worn smooth by countless footsteps.
Shops lined both sides in dense rows, their colorful banners fluttering.
Weapon shops displayed wooden models of swords and sabers, apothecary shops wafted medicinal fragrances, and there were clothiers, taverns, tea houses…
ostentatious and splendid.
Pedestrians brushed shoulder to shoulder.
Spirit Masters in gorgeous robes strolled leisurely alongside their servants.
Boys and girls in academy uniforms walked in groups of three to five, their laughter crisp and clear.
There were ordinary citizens as well, though most walked hurriedly with heads bowed.
Bustling, prosperous.
Yet ice-cold.
Lu Yuan stood at the edge of the gate tunnel exit, watching for a long time.
Then he lifted his feet and walked forward along the main thoroughfare.
His pace wasn’t fast, his eyes slowly scanning both sides.
He noticed that those gorgeously decorated shops had equally well-dressed patrons entering and exiting.
Occasionally, when someone dressed shabbily like him tried to enter, the shop hands at the door would unobtrusively block them with their bodies.
After walking for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, the main street veered to the right.
He didn’t follow the turn, continuing straight into a narrower side street.
The scenery changed instantly.
The stone slabs of the road were broken, sewage accumulating in the cracks.
Most of the shops on either side were low-slung structures or roadside stalls.
The goods sold were a mess: rusty ironware, poor-quality herbs, worn leather armor, and various odds and ends.
The customers were mostly weary-looking people in plain clothes.
Occasionally, one or two low-tier Spirit Masters with faint spirit power fluctuations could be seen picking through the stalls, their voices sharp and hushed as they haggled.
The air mixed the smell of sweat, mold, and low-grade grease.
Walking down this street, Lu Yuan actually felt a bit more at ease.
At least the glances directed at him held far less condescension, replaced instead by the numbness of sharing the bottom tier, or the calculating scrutiny of merchants assessing value.
He saw a stall displaying several old books.
The stall owner was a skinny old man, snoozing with his hands tucked into his sleeves.
Lu Yuan crouched down to look through them.
Most were popular tales and legends, along with two incomplete agricultural manuals.
He picked up a worn booklet with a frayed cover.
*Elementary Spirit Power Guidance Analysis (Handwritten Fragment)*.
His heart skipped a beat.
Looking closely at the content, it contained only the most rudimentary—and even partially flawed—descriptions of spirit power circulation, holding little value.
“How much for this one?” he asked.
The old man opened one eye and glanced at him.
“Five copper spirit coins.” Lu Yuan put it down silently.
He had only seventeen copper spirit coins in his pocket in total.
Spending five copper spirit coins on a flawed fragment wasn’t worth it.
He stood up and continued forward.
Passing two more stalls, he stopped.
Ahead was a small shop with a slightly neater storefront.
A wooden sign hung above: “Spirit Master Classics,” its paint flaking away.
Inside the display window lay several books covered in a thin layer of dust.
Lu Yuan stepped closer, his gaze falling upon one of them.
*Common Continent Spirit Beasts Illustrated (Abridged Edition)*.
The book wasn’t thick, its cover made of hard cardboard with a simple line drawing of a wolf-type spirit beast.
He stared at the small wooden price tag beside it for a long time.
Carved on the wooden tag was: Price: Three Silver Spirit Coins.
Three silver spirit coins meant three hundred copper spirit coins.
Subconsciously, he squeezed the seventeen copper spirit coins in his pocket, their hard edges digging into his palm.
The window glass reflected his face—thin, sallow, his eyes appearing somewhat narrow because he kept them habitually squinted.
The patches on his clothes stood out starkly in the reflection.
He pulled his gaze away, turned, and left.
He needed to find a place to stay first.
Following the street further down, he inquired at a few of the cheapest inns.
Even the cheapest communal bunk cost five copper spirit coins a night, meals not included.
After calculating his funds, he finally picked a dilapidated little shop near the base of the city wall.
The owner was a one-eyed old man puffing on a pipe.
“How many nights?” “Just one night for now.” “Communal bunk, spot against the wall, four copper spirit coins.
Supply your own bedding.” Lu Yuan counted out four copper spirit coins and placed them on the counter.
The old man flicked them over with his pipe, shoved them into his coat, and tossed over a key attached to a wooden tag.
“First door on the left in the backyard.
Doors lock at the hour of the Pig; no entry after that.” The room was tiny, crammed with six wooden bunks, the air thick with the smell of stale mold and sweat.
The spot against the wall was relatively clean.
He set down his pack and sat on the rock-hard wooden board.
Outside the window, the sky darkened.
He pulled out the half flatbread from his pack and ate it slowly.
Then he retrieved his notebook, using the last daylight from the window to turn to a blank page and bite his index finger.
Blood oozed out.
He sketched rapidly on the paper: the towering city gate, the Spirit Hall guards, the opulent main street, the run-down side alley, and that illustrated book priced at three silver spirit coins.
Beside it, he annotated: *City entry inspection enforces class differentiation based on identity badges.
Street districts are clearly segregated by resources and status.
Basic knowledge (Spirit Beasts Illustrated Abridged Edition) price: 300 copper spirit coins.
Personal funds: 13 copper spirit coins.* After finishing the sketch, he folded it and stuffed it back into his inner pocket.
Knowledge must be recorded.
Current reality must also be recorded.
He lay down, the wooden board pressing uncomfortably against his bones.
Tomorrow, he had to go check out that place.
*** The following afternoon, Lu Yuan stood at the foot of the steps outside the city public library.
The building was grand, constructed from pure white marble with towering pillars carved with reliefs of books and stars.
A dozen immaculate steps led up to a heavy, dark wood door inlaid with bronze ornaments.
Above hung a plaque: Nuoding City Public Library.
However, what drew Lu Yuan’s gaze was a brass plaque nailed to a pillar nearby.
The lettering was clear and cold: “Entry Regulations: 1.
Entry permitted only upon presentation of valid Spirit Master rank certification or an academy recommendation letter.
2.
Maintain silence; noise strictly prohibited.
3.
Books must not be damaged; violators will be severely punished.” His gaze lingered on the first line for a long time.
Spirit Master rank certification.
Or an academy recommendation letter.
He possessed neither.
People occasionally walked up and down the steps.
Some wore Spirit Master robes with rank badges pinned to their chests, while others were academy youths holding letters stamped with red seals.
They walked up the stairs, pushed open the heavy doors, and disappeared inside.
In the gap when the doors opened and closed, one could catch a glimpse of bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, along with the faint smell of old paper and ink wafting out.
That smell made Lu Yuan’s fingertips itch slightly.
Standing on the very bottom step, he tilted his head up to stare at the brass plaque, his mind racing.
Forging a certificate was impossible.
Getting a recommendation letter?
He needed contact with people inside the academy, but he currently had no connections whatsoever.
Or perhaps, demonstrating “value” to make the gatekeeper make an exception?
The risk was too high.
Deep in thought, he failed to notice someone coming down the steps.
A young woman in a plain cyan modified robe was carrying a stack of old books, her steps somewhat hurried.
A pair of simple crystal-ground spectacles rested on her nose, her eyes behind the lenses bright and focused.
As she passed Lu Yuan, she instinctively cast a glance at this shabby youth standing at the bottom of the steps, staring up at the notice board.
Her gaze lingered for a second on his focused, thwarted expression.
Almost simultaneously, the library doors at the top of the steps were pushed open again.
Several youths wearing blue-and-white academy uniforms walked out, chatting and laughing.
One of them caught sight of Lu Yuan out of the corner of his eye, and his laughter abruptly ceased.
He nudged his companion with an elbow and jerked his chin toward Lu Yuan.
The other youths looked over as well.
Then, undisguised sneers broke out.
“Hey, kid down there!” A voice came from atop the steps, adopting an exaggeratedly loud tone.
“Don’t block the way.
This isn’t a place where any random stray dog can just walk in.” Lu Yuan’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Slowly, he lowered his head, turned around, and looked toward the source of the voice.
On the steps, three youths looked down on him from above.
The tallest one in the middle wore a look of blatant superiority and mockery on his face.
The school badges on their chests were brass-colored.
The cyan-robed woman holding the books had already walked down the steps.
Hearing the commotion, her steps paused slightly.
She didn’t turn around, but her fingers holding the books tightened subtly.
Lu Yuan looked at the three youths, his face devoid of expression.
After a two-second silence, he stepped to the side, clearing the path in the center of the stairs.
His movement was entirely calm.
The tall youth seemed unsatisfied with his lack of reaction, curling his lip and opening his mouth to say more, but his companion yanked him back.
“Let’s go.
Why bother picking a fight with a bumpkin?” Only then did the three swagger down the steps.
As he passed, the tall youth deliberately bumped his shoulder hard against Lu Yuan’s.
Lu Yuan staggered from the collision, but didn’t utter a word.
Only after the three had walked far away did he straighten up again, patting the shoulder that had been struck.
Then he raised his head once more to look at the plaque above the library doors and that cold brass sign.
His gaze was calm and deep.
Turning around, he stepped off the last stair and merged into the flow of people on the street.
Walking neither fast nor slow, he soon vanished around the street corner.
At the foot of the steps, the cyan-robed woman holding the books stopped after walking a dozen paces, turning back to glance toward the direction Lu Yuan had vanished.
Her eyes behind the crystal lenses narrowed slightly, carrying a trace of imperceptible thought.
She looked down at the cover of the top book in her arms—*Case Analysis of Low-Rank Spirit Power Flow Anomalies (Manuscript Selection)*—then looked back toward the library, letting out a soft sigh.
Then, she too turned around, walking slowly away in the direction opposite to Lu Yuan’s.
The setting sun stretched her shadow long and thin, casting it obliquely across the pristine yet ice-cold marble steps.