School Drama

In the bathroom mirror, a stranger stared back—jawline sharp enough to slice glass, eyes twin voids flecked with starlight. His hair fell in obsidian waves, as if each strand had been polished by the night itself. Even his posture betrayed him—spine aligned with celestial north, shoulders squared like tectonic plates. Simply is what every mortal would undergo after completing body refining though he was only half-way there.

He tugged the hoodie lower. Pop star looks wouldn't shield him from Zhao Lin's envy or Xu Qing's reignited curiosity. But Dao cared little for mortal drama.

The whispers started again - people got new topic to discuss upon seeing me. Another love letter fluttered from my locker. Sixth one this week. I crumpled it, the paper sighing as it hit the trash. Tian Feng leaned against the adjacent locker, smirking. "They're forming a fan club, you know. 'Han Chen's Celestial Guardians.' Pathetic name if you ask me."

I snorted, adjusting my glasses—new frames with a deliberate chip in the left lens. A small imperfection to offset the unsettling symmetry of my face. "Tell them to work on their branding. At least add some dragons."

The teacher's summons came during third period. "Your parents need to confirm you're not…" Mrs. Zhao trailed off, gesturing vaguely at my face. "Experimenting with substances."

Mom was called. "Growth spurt!" she declared, too loudly. "And… qi circulation exercises! Very healthy!" Dad nodded beside her from their workplace. They'd rehearsed this.

The cafeteria was its usual chaos—trays clattering, voices overlapping. I was halfway through, when Li Wei and his crew swaggered over. Zhao Lin's lackeys, all brawn and no brains. Li Wei's biceps bulged under his rolled-up sleeves, a testament to his father's private dojo.

"Oops," he sneered, "accidentally" upending my tray. Sticky orange sauce bled across my shirt, the smell sharp and cloying. His cronies laughed, a chorus of hyenas.

I stared at him, expressionless.

For a moment, his grin faltered. Then he flexed again, as if reminding himself who he was, and they strutted off, laughter trailing behind them. I could have easily avoided, but these actions momentarily reminded me of him, beating me for pursuing his boss's love interest, Xu Qing in another life.

The stain spread like a Rorschach blot, and for a second, I was back in my past life—my Daoist robes drenched in blood, my reflection in the pooling blood as I killed the first human, wild-eyed and crazed. Ha. Well, this guy deserves a little punishment for reminding me this.

Later, when the halls were empty, I found Li Wei in the restroom. He didn't see me coming. A quick jab to the pressure point behind his ear, and he crumpled like a sack of rice. I dragged him into the janitor's closet, the air thick with the stench of bleach and mildew.

A flick of Qi, and the drain exploded. I didn't stick around to see the aftermath, but the rumors the next day were… vivid. Photos of Li Wei, drenched and reeking, circulated like wildfire. His cronies eyed me suspiciously, but without evidence, their accusations fizzled.

Fan Qing, bless him, backed me up. "He was with me the whole time," he said, shrugging. "Probably just karma catching up to Li Wei."

The next evening, Fan Qing cornered me after class. "Dinner. Hotpot. My pick." His grin was sharp, almost predatory. "And you're paying." I rolled my eyes but agreed. The restaurant was packed, the air thick with the sizzle of broths and the clatter of porcelain. We'd barely ordered when the door chimed.

Xu Qing walked in, Zhao Lin's hand possessive on her lower back. She glanced at me, her eyes flickering with surprise—and something like regret. "Join us," she said, too smoothly. Fan Qing kicked me under the table.

Zhao Lin's smile could've chilled the boiling pot between us. "Generous offer, Xu Qing. Han Chen, if you wouldn't mind… diluting your radiance." He emphasized the word like an inside joke, his thumb brushing Xu Qing's wrist.

We ate in fraught silence, the only sounds the hiss of broth and Zhao Lin's aggressive noodle-slurping. Xu Qing picked at her tofu, her knuckles whitening around her chopsticks.

"Charity event next week," Zhao Lin announced suddenly from across his table. "You'll be there, right? Center stage. I'll introduce you to some strong business contacts."

I swirled my tea, watching the leaves settle. "I don't have any interests in that."

Fan Qing snorted into his beer. "He's allergic to spotlights. Breaks out in humility."

Xu Qing's laugh caught mid-air, strangled into a cough. Zhao Lin's chopsticks snapped a dumpling in half.

Later, as we split the bill, Xu Qing lingered. "Your skin—" she blurted, then flushed. "I mean… you look…" "Expensive?" I offered.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Different." She saw that I wasn't having any idea to continue the conversation.

The walk home smelled of rain and fried dough. I remembered another lifetime—Xu Qing's disgusted glare when I'd offered umbrella-sharing, Zhao Lin's cronies laughing as puddles soaked my worn-out sneakers. Now they seethed at shadows.

At the intersection, I parted with Fan Qing. The night hummed with unspoken truths. Days passed.

Han Chen sat in the back of the classroom, eyes half-closed, his breathing steady and shallow. To anyone glancing his way, he looked like he was dozing off—again. The teacher had long since given up on scolding him. Besides he is still first in class and would answer any of the trickiest questions she would throw at him. After all, there were no Qi fluctuations, no odd movements, nothing to suggest he was anything but a sleepy teenager.

But those who sat near him felt it—a subtle, comforting aura that made the air around him feel lighter, like the calm before a gentle rain. Some mistook it for attraction, others for charisma. No one guessed it was Dao rhyme, the faint resonance of his cultivation.

By now, his body refinement had reached 80%, but progress had slowed to a crawl.

The bottleneck was frustrating, but Han Chen wasn't one to force things. He switched to refining his Innate Qi, absorbing sunlight during the day and balancing it with cosmic energy at night. The process was slow but steady, and over the next three months, he felt himself nearing the peak of his current realm.

When exams rolled around, Han Chen surprised everyone—by breezing through the syllabus. He aced the tests without breaking a sweat, leaving his classmates muttering about "natural geniuses."

With a month of free time, he decided to humor his parents. He spent two weeks shadowing them at their company, playing the role of the dutiful son learning the family business. They visited tourist spots around the city, his mother snapping photos while his father lectured about the importance of "networking."

He also met up with Fan Qing for an outing, the two of them wandering the city's quieter corners, swapping stories and avoiding the chaos of their classmates. Xu Qing, now firmly attached to Zhao Lin, tried to rope him into a party. He declined politely, citing "family commitments."

In the final week of his break, Han Chen told his parents he'd be staying at a friend's place. Instead, he headed to the eastern edge of the city, where an abandoned factory complex loomed like a relic of another era. Rusted machinery, crumbling concrete, and a jungle of vines and shrubs had reclaimed the space, creating a labyrinth of solitude.

The central courtyard was his sanctuary. Broken windows whistled with the wind, their faint hum blending with the rustle of leaves. It was eerie but peaceful, the perfect place for uninterrupted cultivation.

He spent the first day suppressing his cultivation, refining his Qi until he felt the edges of his limits. The second day, he sat in quiet contemplation, reflecting on the past two years.

Unlike the protagonists in stories, he thought, I had no grand mentor, no hidden treasures. I started from absolute weakness, severed ties with Xu Qing, and outperformed my past self. At sixteen, I've built a legal account, earned money through cyber ventures, and gathered the resources needed for martial arts. All without spiritual energy. And now, I'm on the verge of the Martial Mastery realm similar to qi cultivation sixth realm comparable.

The thought brought a faint smile to his lips. He wasn't just surviving—he was thriving.

Calming his mind, he began the breakthrough, starting first with the body's foundation.

"Steel your flesh against the gale,

Bathe in fire, endure the hail.

Temper bones in nature's wrath,

Forge the body, clear the path."

Qi from the Dantian—his cloud of life essence—acted like fire, flowing into his flesh, blood, bones, and nerves for refinement. Because his body transformation was already nearly complete, he only experienced a slight improvement in blood refinement. Nonetheless, he emerged with a physique capable of channeling immense Qi without faltering.

Next came the refinement of Qi. The once-suppressed Qi condensed back into a dense mist within his dantian, causing its walls to expand to their limit. Meridian walls thickened, and secondary Qi circuits began branching off from the primary channels.

Although some Qi density was lost during the process, it was efficiently replenished by the essence converging from surrounding plant life and radiant energy. Tao rhyme spread out across a 50-meter radius, and the vegetation and ambient atmosphere adopted a sacred aura. Animals nearby sensed this change and stood still.