The dorm room was silent in the early hours before dawn. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath outside the small window as a soft pulse of violet light illuminated the space from within.
Qiang Ming sat cross-legged on the floor of Room 307, his eyes half-lidded, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breath.
Behind him, faintly hovering in his spirit sea, the Blackstone Abyss Hammer pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Two yellow rings circled beneath him in his consciousness, their light steady, their rhythm measured.
He was cultivating—not simply circulating soul power, but meditating into the hammer itself, syncing his mind to its depths.
His Martial Soul was more than a tool. It was a gate.
And it had doors he had yet to open.
"One day," Su Yang had once said, sitting beside a blazing forge, "you'll feel it shift—not because your power increased, but because your understanding deepened. That's when you'll stop using the hammer, and start becoming it."
He exhaled slowly, dispersing the thin threads of spirit mist that had gathered in the air.
He opened his eyes.
The night had passed.
By the time the other boys woke up, Qiang Ming was already dressed and reading a small, worn text on soul energy compression. His tray of breakfast was untouched on the desk beside him—some soft dumplings, steamed meat buns, and a flask of spirit grain broth.
We Wei blinked. "You sleep at all?"
Qiang Ming didn't look up. "Eventually."
Xi Xan groaned from his bed. "I had a dream I got turned into a dumpling and Ming dipped me in vinegar."
Ye Sugei snorted.
Qiang Ming closed the book and stood. "Class starts in fifteen."
Room 5A was its usual mix of tired chatter and tense anticipation. The Class 5 students had all, in their own way, begun adjusting to Wu Zhangkong's unrelenting intensity. But no one was ever truly comfortable.
That was by design.
The moment the silver-haired teacher entered, silence swept across the room like a cold front.
He stood at the center of the room, eyes scanning the students as if memorizing their weaknesses.
"We're initiating a Class Challenge."
Murmurs erupted immediately.
Wu Zhangkong raised a hand. Silence returned.
"Each lower class has the right to challenge the one ranked above them. You may select two to five participants to represent you in a team duel. No lethal force, but no restrictions on ability usage."
His gaze lingered on Wulin. Then Xie Xie. Then—Qiang Ming.
A memory surfaced.
Flashback – After the Grilling
Wu Zhangkong's office still held the chill of his scolding when he added, flatly, "The Class Challenge is coming."
Xie Xie had looked up, already bruised and ashamed. "We're gonna fight Class 4?"
"If you want to move up, yes. I'll leave it to the three of you to decide whether the rest of your class is worth bringing."
Tang Wulin had hesitated. "How many can fight?"
"Two to five. Pick the best. Or win alone."
He turned to Qiang Ming last.
"If you show off again without restraint," he said, "I'll assign you to Class 6 just to make you earn your way back."
Qiang Ming nodded once, unfazed. But the words lingered.
Back in the present, the announcement ended with a sharp command.
"Decide who will represent the class by tomorrow. You'll fight in two months."
Then he left.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of drills and soul circuit refinement. Qiang Ming trained alone, as always, using his hammer in weighted swings against enchanted stone. He didn't show off. He didn't test techniques. He simply refined his base.
Swing.
Reset.
Swing.
Reset.
Solidify the foundation, Su Yang's voice echoed in his head. It's the spine of your growth.
By mid-morning, the drills ended. By noon, he was walking toward the cafeteria, his appetite finally surfacing after the morning's cultivation.
That was when he saw it.
A crowd had gathered near the central walkway just outside the dining hall. Older students—clearly upperclassmen—stood in a loose half-circle around a much smaller figure.
Tang Wulin.
He looked tense, fists clenched, but wasn't attacking.
In front of him stood a red-haired girl, her posture arrogant, hands on her hips. Two glowing yellow rings circled her feet.
Her voice carried through the crowd.
"Come on, little vine boy. Just admit it—you're not cut out for this. No shame in submitting to someone stronger."
Wulin said nothing, but his lips were pressed tight.
Qiang Ming's expression darkened.
No one else is doing anything?
He stepped forward.
The Blackstone Abyss Hammer materialized in his hand—not with its usual quiet grace, but with a sharp CRACK, like thunder shattering a bell.
Purple mist spilled from its head like smoke from a furnace.
He didn't say a word.
He hurled it.
The hammer crashed down between the crowd and Wulin—crushing the stone path in a burst of violet energy. A shockwave threw the surrounding upperclassmen off their feet.
Students tumbled backwards, sprawling in all directions. Some groaned. Others looked toward the source in disbelief.
The only one still standing was the red-haired girl.
Mu Xi.
She blinked in shock, eyes narrowing as the dust cleared.
"Who the hell—?"
She turned, activating her two soul rings, ready to summon her Martial Soul.
But—
A cold blade pressed to her throat.
"Don't move."
Xie Xie stood behind her, dagger in one hand, his second spirit—Shadow Dragon Dagger—barely visible in the low light.
His voice was colder than usual.
"Try anything, and you won't like what happens next."
Mu Xi froze.
Her pupils contracted, breath catching in her throat.
The tension snapped tight. The crowd didn't know what to do.
Then—
"Enough."
A firm voice rang out.
The Dean had arrived.
Behind him came Wu Zhangkong, robes flowing, expression colder than anyone present.
"Everyone step back," the Dean said. "Now."
Mu Xi backed away slowly, hands raised. Xie Xie vanished into the space behind her, reappearing beside Wulin.
Qiang Ming walked forward and caught his hammer as it retracted into his palm.
Wu Zhangkong stopped in front of them.
"Training. Now."
None of them argued.