Lu Yuan stood in the alleyways of the old residential district in the west of the city.
The stone slabs beneath his feet were uneven, and the plaster on the walls was peeling.
He double-checked the scrap of paper and raised his hand to knock.
“Come in.” As he pushed the door open, the light dimmed.
The room had no windows, and stacks of books piled up against three of the walls, reaching all the way to the rafters.
Drawings and notes lay scattered across the floor, and an old wooden desk was squeezed into a corner, its surface buried under ink bottles and papers.
Shen Moxin sat behind the desk, wearing a faded gray cotton shirt with its sleeves rolled up to her forearms.
Her long hair was pinned up with a wooden chopstick.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to a stool piled with books.
Lu Yuan cleared the books aside and sat down.
The stool’s legs wobbled.
Shen Moxin sized him up, pulled a sheet of paper from the stack, and slid it toward him—it was the very scrap of draft paper from the library.
“I thought about this model for a long time last night.” Her finger tapped the steep and flat sections of the curve.
“Environmental soul power field interference factor β, and martial soul characteristic coefficient k.
How did you come up with this?” The question was direct.
Lu Yuan fell silent for two seconds.
“Observation, and guessing,” he said.
“When Spirit Master duel in town, the fluctuations in soul power affect the surroundings.
And when I cultivate, I can also feel that the environmental soul power is not static.” “Observation?” Shen Moxin leaned forward.
“How old are you?
What is your soul power rank?” “Seven years old.
Rank two.” Behind her spectacles, Shen Moxin’s eyes narrowed.
“With rank-two soul power, your perception is fine enough to distinguish the distortion points on a decay curve?” Her voice was very soft.
“Lu Yuan, tell me the truth.
Where on earth did these ideas come from?” The room was quiet.
A faint clanking sound echoed from the distance.
Lu Yuan met her gaze.
There was no malice in those eyes, only a burning curiosity and a suppressed yearning.
He suddenly understood.
This woman was just like him in his past life, trapped in a prison of cognition, wanting to break down the wall but unable to find a hammer.
And he held half of one in his hands.
“Assistant Shen,” Lu Yuan spoke up, “what do you think soul power actually is?” Shen Moxin was startled.
The answer was on the very first page of the textbook: *Soul power is a special energy that exists between heaven and earth.* But she didn’t recite the textbook.
“What are you trying to say?” “The textbook says soul power is energy.” Lu Yuan traced a circle on his knee with his finger.
“But energy takes many forms.
Light, heat, vibration…
Which one is soul power like?” “Soul power is soul power.
It is unique.” “But it can be absorbed, it flows, it decays, and it interferes,” Lu Yuan continued.
“Some of its characteristics are like particles, which can be captured and stored.
Others are like waves, which can diffuse and superimpose.” He paused.
“Is it possible that it is both a particle and a wave?
Showing different faces depending on the scale of observation?” Shen Moxin’s breath hitched.
This idea was far too unorthodox.
Existing theories either treated soul power as “qi” or as “points of light”; there had never been a hypothesis of “wave-particle duality.” Yet upon closer thought, many contradictory phenomena seemed to find room for explanation within this framework.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she grabbed a charcoal pencil and a blank sheet of paper.
“Go on.” “It’s just a hypothesis.
There’s no empirical proof.” “Forget empirical proof for now!” Shen Moxin’s speaking pace quickened.
“Following this line of thought, what about martial souls?
A martial soul absorbs soul power and converts its attributes…
What role does it play in this ‘particle-wave’ picture?” The question cut straight to the core.
Lu Yuan took a breath.
“A martial soul…” He weighed his words carefully.
“…might be a composite structure.
One part is physical, like the limbs of a beast martial soul, or the physical entity of a tool martial soul.
This part determines the martial soul’s ‘form.'” Shen Moxin quickly jotted down: *Physical – Form*.
“But the more core part is the energy structure,” Lu Yuan continued.
“This part determines the efficiency of soul power conversion and its attribute affinity.
It is the ‘soul.’ Finally, there is the mental connection—the Spirit Master’s control, perception, and emotional resonance with the martial soul.
This part is the ‘spirit.'” He raised his hand and tapped the air three times.
“Physical, energy, spirit.
Only when the three are entangled do you have a complete martial soul.
A Waste Martial Soul might not be ‘trash’ in its physical aspect, but rather its energy structure is congenitally deficient, or its spiritual link is too weak, making it unable to efficiently convert and control soul power.” *Clack.* The charcoal pencil in Shen Moxin’s hand dropped onto the desk.
She didn’t pick it up, staring fixedly at Lu Yuan as her chest heaved.
The humble room fell dead silent.
Only after a long while did she speak in a hoarse voice, “An energy structure…
congenitally deficient…
Is there a way to mend it?” Lu Yuan shook his head.
“I don’t know.
It’s just a hypothesis.
Even if it can be mended, it would require extremely precise control of soul power and a thorough understanding of the energy structure of that specific martial soul.
For now…
it’s impossible.” He was telling the truth.
Shen Moxin, however, acted as if she hadn’t heard the latter half of his sentence.
She abruptly stood up and paced back and forth in the cramped space, nearly knocking over the stack of books in the corner.
“So those mutated martial souls…
beneficial mutations are highly likely to be cases where the energy structure accidentally formed a more stable and efficient configuration during awakening!
Detrimental mutations, on the other hand, are structural distortions and conflicts!” The faster she spoke, the brighter her eyes shone, almost terrifyingly so.
“If we can figure out the basic templates of the energy structures of common martial souls, and then compare them with mutated cases, could we summarize the patterns of mutation?
Or even…
guide mutation?” She spun around to face Lu Yuan.
“Your two-variable model!
What if environmental soul power fluctuations don’t just affect decay, but can also subtly ‘shape’ the energy structure during the critical moments of martial soul awakening or cultivation, like a hammer striking a raw iron ingot?
Perhaps β and k are not just interference coefficients, but shaping factors!” Lu Yuan’s heart jolted.
He hadn’t expected Shen Moxin to extrapolate so quickly, deriving possibilities that he himself hadn’t dared to think too deeply about.
This woman’s academic intuition was terrifyingly powerful.
“It is possible,” he admitted cautiously.
“But we need data.
Vast amounts of awakening data from different martial souls in different environments, as well as long-term cultivation tracking and comparisons.
This will require…” He paused.
“…many people, plenty of resources, and a long time.” The fanaticism on Shen Moxin’s face cooled slightly.
She slowly sat back down in her chair, pressing her fingers to her brow.
Yes.
It required resources, manpower, and an undisturbed research environment.
And these were precisely the scarcest and most easily stifled things within the academy system.
Silence stretched between them.
But in this silence, there was no more tentative distance, only a heavy, mutual understanding—the resonance of finding a kindred spirit, yet facing an uncertain path ahead.
After a long while, Shen Moxin let out a long breath.
She picked up her charcoal pencil again and pulled over a fresh piece of scrap paper.
“Come,” she said, her voice returning to calm, carrying a post-exhaustion gentleness.
“Tell me more about your particle-wave duality hypothesis and your thoughts on the triple structure of martial souls.
Let’s draw a sketch and list all the associations and questions we can think of.” Lu Yuan nodded, pulling his stool closer to the desk.
Next, only the scratching of charcoal on paper and their hushed discussions filled the humble room.
The light outside gradually tilted westward, and the beam of light shining through the skylight moved from the desktop to the corner of the room.
Shen Moxin lit a small oil lamp, its dim, yellow halo casting their shadows onto the book-lined walls, flickering and overlapping.
Sheet after sheet of paper was used up, covered in symbols, arrows, and scribbled text.
Debates broke out from time to time; Shen Moxin would sharply point out logical leaps in Lu Yuan’s hypotheses, while Lu Yuan would use more basic analogies to reconcile his points.
Sometimes they would both fall into deep thought, staring blankly at a certain curve; other times, they would raise their heads simultaneously upon conceiving a method of verification, their eyes colliding as they saw the same spark of inspiration in each other’s gaze.
It was the pure joy of intellectual collision.
Who knew how much time had passed before the lamplight began to flicker weakly.
Shen Moxin put down her charcoal pencil and massaged her wrists.
She looked at the draft papers scattered across the floor, all covered with hypotheses, her expression complex.
After a long silence, she suddenly spoke, her voice very soft.
“Lu Yuan.” Lu Yuan raised his head from the papers.
Shen Moxin looked at him, her gaze behind her spectacles appearing soft yet earnest under the dancing firelight.
“Do you…
want to enter Nuoding Junior Spirit Master Academy?” She paused.
“As a working-student.” Lu Yuan was taken aback.
Shen Moxin continued in a steady tone, “Working-students don’t pay tuition, but you have to handle chores around the academy—sweeping, organizing, helping in the kitchen.
It’s hard work, your cultivation time will be squeezed, and you will…
be looked down upon by some of the regular students.” She looked into Lu Yuan’s eyes.
“But at least, you’ll have a legitimate status to stay in Nuoding City.
You can access the most basic Spirit Master education—even if it’s just the public lectures.
You can use some of the academy’s public facilities by right, such as the physical training grounds, or the ordinary library that is open to working-students.” She paused, her voice growing even softer.
“And you’ll be able to…
come here often.” The oil lamp crackled, a tiny spark snapping in the quiet.
Inside the humble room, the yellow halo enveloped the two of them and the papers on the floor that carried fantasies transcending the era.
The night wind slipped through the cracks in the door, whimpering softly.
Lu Yuan looked at Shen Moxin.
There was no patronizing pity on her face, only a solemn invitation, and behind that invitation lay a deep appreciation and expectation for a kindred spirit.
His fingers resting on his knee curled slightly.