Jin Ayush

Ayush's POV

"Master, what do you think about my classmates?" Ayush asked as he sat on the bed.

His gaze was fixed on the figure floating in the air—an old man with long white hair and a beard that gave him a grandfatherly look. Dressed in a white traditional outfit that felt straight out of a cultivation novel, the old man carried a fan in his left hand, absentmindedly opening and closing it as he spoke.

"Why do you ask?" the old man replied, his face calm and unreadable.

"They're always following me around and being so nice to me. Is that normal?" Ayush frowned. "Sometimes, it just feels... unreasonable."

The old man chuckled. "You should make friends while you can, disciple. If you don't, you'll end up dying alone like me when you reach my age."

Ayush smiled slightly at his master's words. "Maybe you're right. I might be overthinking everything. In my previous life, no one ever cared for me—not even my own family. So when people suddenly start showing me kindness... it feels uneasy to accept."

He sighed and looked away.

"Disciple," his master said, his voice turning more serious, "I told you to make friends, not fake friends. No matter how hard we try, we can never truly understand what lies in someone else's heart. So always trust your own heart in choosing the right people."

He closed his fan with a soft snap and continued, "Remember this—throughout your life, you will meet many different kinds of people. Not everyone will like you. Not everyone will understand you. But what matters is whether you recognize those who truly do."

Ayush scratched his head. "Master, aren't you making things even more complicated?"

The old man simply let out a thoughtful hum, refusing to elaborate.

Ayush chuckled. Looking at his master, he felt a sense of relief. But soon, another thought crossed his mind. "Master, do you think choosing me as your disciple was the right decision? If you had picked someone more talented—"

Before he could finish, the old man smacked him on the head with his fan.

"Oww! That really hurt!" Ayush winced, rubbing the sore spot.

"I've never regretted a single decision in my life," the old man declared confidently. "This Xu Wuji has defeated seven sovereign cultivators! Not even the Heavenly Demon or the Sword Emperor would dare question my choices! Hmph!"

Ayush's lips curled into a small smile. "Master, you're intentionally boasting, aren't you?"

The old man huffed. "Enough of your foolishness. Prepare to leave."

"Yes, understood," Ayush obediently replied. Even if he teased his master sometimes, deep down, he held a profound respect for him—the first person who had ever accepted and believed in him.

Without another word, Ayush retrieved a long sword from his room. Taking a deep breath, he channeled his qi into the blade. The sword's color shifted, turning into a deep, dark hue.

"Void Arts: First Form—Cracking Heaven!"

With a swift motion, he slashed the space before him, forming a crack in the air.

"You still haven't perfected it, have you?" the old man observed, eyeing the half-opened rift.

Ayush sighed. "What do you expect? Do you think it's that easy to inherit the techniques of the great martial god Xu Wuji? How can a mere mortal like me compare to you, Master—the man who single-handedly defied the heavens?"

The old man nodded in agreement. "Hmph. You may have a point. I didn't think of that."

Ayush smirked. "See?"

"Enough talking. Let's go."

As both master and disciple stepped into the crack, it slowly vanished behind them—leaving no trace of their departure.

*****

Somewhere in the Academia

Outside the dorm, a lone figure stood in the middle of the training ground, waiting for someone. Soon after, a shadowy presence emerged from the ground, slowly molding itself into the shape of a human.

As the figure took form, long red hair cascaded down her back. She wore black pants and a flowing purple dress, giving her a mysterious look.

"Whenever you use your innate talent, it really creeps me out, Eira," the man who had been waiting for her said, forcing a smile.

"You're the weirdest one among all of us, Ivan," Eira replied in a dissatisfied tone, her gaze settling on the man wearing glasses and cloaked in a black robe.

Instead of replying, Ivan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round device. A brilliant blue gem shone at its center. Without hesitation, he pressed the gem.

In an instant, both of them were transported elsewhere.

When they opened their eyes, they found themselves in a vast, empty space. In front of them stood a long table with seventeen chairs.

"What an amusing invention," a tall, well-built man mused, smirking. "A device that can create a spiritual field without reaching the Master Stage—the level of a specialist? How fascinating."

Ivan tossed the object toward him. Ten blocks of golden light shimmered on its surface—one of them already beginning to fade.

Alaric carefully examined the device before placing it at the center of the table.

One by one, people began to arrive.

Klaus and Zane were among them as well. Soon, sixteen out of seventeen chairs were occupied, leaving only one empty.

"Eira, where is Nathan?" A boy sitting opposite Klaus asked, irritation clear in his voice. His name was Karma Kiri, one of their classmates—and like everyone else, a reincarnated soul.

"You should ask him, not me," she replied, not even bothering to look at him.

Then, with a teasing smirk, he turned his attention to Eira. "Haven't you gotten even sexier?" he mused, eyeing her from head to toe. "You should wear something more revealing." He let out a small laugh.

Before Eira could respond, the air around them shifted. A chilling sensation crawled down their spines as a radiant figure began to materialize from the empty space.

A powerful presence filled the room, making the air thick with tension. The glow intensified, illuminating the faces around the table.

Then, a name escaped someone's lips—barely more than a whisper.

"Nathan..."