As he strode purposefully toward the imposing silhouette of the academy, the very atmosphere around him seemed to warp in anticipation of his arrival, and a shimmering metamorphosis began to overtake his being, altering his reality with a fluidity that defied the rigid constraints of time. His features shifted and matured, settling into the breathtaking visage of a twenty-two-year-old sovereign whose unearthly beauty could humble the pride of gods, while cascades of hair grew out in an instant, flowing down his back like a river of midnight silk to frame a face defined by sharp, aristocratic lines. His eyes snapped open to reveal a startling heterochromia in which one orb was a piercing, abyssal blue while the other burned with the intensity of a crimson inferno, and both held the weight of untold aeons within their depths. The mundane fabric covering his form dissolved into threads of pure light, reweaving themselves into a majestic garment that pulsed with vibrant life as a masterpiece of chromatic brilliance where crimson, obsidian, pristine white, azure, gold, emerald, and royal violet intertwined not as a chaotic mess, but as a harmonious symphony of elemental representation. Polished black boots materialized upon his feet, grounding his divine presence, and the overall ensemble evoked the image of a highborn prince, yet the aura he exuded far transcended mere nobility. A palpable wave of warmth and terrifying power rolled off him, a paradoxical pressure that was as comforting as the sun yet as heavy as a mountain. To any ordinary mortal who dared to gaze upon this radiant figure, he was not merely a cultivator or a noble, but a descended Divine King whose every step commanded the absolute reverence of the heavens and earth alike.
His physical transfiguration had been so absolute and profound that the mere concept of him ever being a ragged, wandering storyteller was now an impossibility, for no rational mind could associate such regality with a humble narrator of tales. As he approached the magnificent, towering gates of the academy, he immediately realized that he had arrived during the most chaotic and significant period of the year, as the area was swarming with a dense, suffocating multitude of people. It appeared that the prestigious institution was in the midst of its grand recruitment season, attracting a veritable ocean of hopeful aspirants who had traveled from every corner of the continent to test their mettle. The sprawling plaza before the entrance was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with thousands of nervous youths and their anxious guardians, creating a deafening cacophony of chatter that buzzed in the air like a swarm of agitated hornets. The sheer density of the crowd was overwhelming, yet he moved toward the threshold with an eerie calmness that contrasted sharply with the frantic energy of the desperate applicants surrounding him. It was undeniably the season for accepting new students, a time when the air was thick with the scent of ambition and the palpable fear of failure, yet he walked through the throng as if he were the only sovereign entity in existence.
"I must initially embed myself within their ranks as a seemingly ordinary student to meticulously observe the nature of these people," he contemplated silently while carefully masking his true intent. I need to understand these strange people before I reveal my power. If the flow of fate permits and I discover the slightest opening, I will utilize that chance to shatter the twelve ancient seals that currently suppress my true potential. He drifted through the noisy crowd to take his place in line. There was a singular and magnificent allure to joining this academy that outweighed the tedium of enrollment for every cultivator present. This institution possessed the unique and arcane methodology required to dissolve the parasitic soul curse that afflicted every cultivator in this world. It was a coveted freedom that meant a cultivator was finally free. They would no longer be forced to dedicate their entire life to a distant deity. Their eternal soul would not be claimed as property after death. However, this spiritual liberation was not a gift given without a price. There existed a grim and nonnegotiable stipulation that shadowed every student who walked these hallowed halls. The ironclad law of the academy dictated that any individual who enjoyed the privileges of membership was bound by blood to answer the call of arms. They were forced to participate in the carnage of war.
Even a mundane human without power could theoretically join the academy. However, the financial cost of such an endeavor was staggeringly high. Although Miss Aurora had not explicitly specified the exact figure during our prior consultation, she had strongly implied that the cost would be astronomically prohibitive for any commoner. He remembered that conversation vividly, noting that even an individual of her standing as an Order 11 entity treated the topic with gravity. It was a testament to the sheer disparity of wealth that he had casually parted with two gold coins merely to purchase information from her. Gold was an exceptionally rare commodity in this economic landscape. Only the most opulent merchants or nobility ever handled such currency. A single gold coin was worth ten thousand silver coins. One silver coin could be exchanged for ten thousand bronze coins. One bronze coin was equivalent to ten thousand tiyin coins. These tiyin were primitive currency fashioned from simple carved stone. They were stamped with a unique sulfur-based seal to prevent forgery. The precise alchemical mixture used to create that seal was a closely guarded secret known only to the authorized coin minters.
Before he had even set foot on the academy grounds, he had already devised a meticulous strategy for his infiltration. He naturally possessed eighteen ancient seals that bound his true capabilities, yet admission required him to appear as either a mundane human or a cursed diviner. After a long moment of calculation, he imposed twenty-eight additional seals upon his core, effectively reducing himself to the state of a powerless mortal. However, the oppressive and noble aura he naturally exuded refused to vanish completely despite the heavy suppression. Realizing this discrepancy, he dissolved four of those seals to elevate his status to that of an Order Eleven Diviner. He then engaged in a delicate manipulation of his energy to graft a counterfeit soul curse onto his spirit. Although this fabrication was structurally a power seal, its external appearance and spiritual resonance were indistinguishable from the genuine affliction. It would undoubtedly be sufficient to deceive the examiners and grant him passage into the institute without question. "I have finally arrived at this damned academy," he murmured internally as he gazed up at the looming structure. He slowly drifted into the teeming crowd of applicants and began to wait for his turn with stoic patience.
As the tedious wait continued, two majestic figures dressed in the opulent raiment of kings suddenly entered the area. One was a sharp-featured youth of twenty-five, while the other was a dignified elder of fifty-six. "Order Nine... interesting," he whispered softly, his eyes briefly analyzing the spiritual pressure radiating from their bodies. There was now only a single person standing between him and the front of the line. Not everyone was accepted into the academy. Miss Aurora had shared a secret with him during their private meeting. The academy only accepted those who were willing to bear a Body Curse. This ensures their loyalty to the academy. The curse is only removed once the student reaches Order Seven. He had his own methods to deal with it. He would use a special grade spell to deactivate the curse. This would allow him to unseal his power to reach Order Seven.
The two figures completely ignored the long line of waiting applicants and marched directly toward his position with an air of entitlement. "Hey, brat, your luck has run out today, for this spot now belongs to us, so vanish from my sight immediately," the elder roared at him with undisguised arrogance. He remained completely unmoved by the shouting. He clutched his queue number tightly while pretending not to hear a single word of the demand. "You clearly do not appreciate kindness when it is offered, so my disciple will now demonstrate true power to you." The younger man instantly drew a gleaming sword from his waist. He materialized directly in front of him to launch a lethal strike. However, he sidestepped the incoming blade with an almost bored casualness. He delivered a swift counter-kick that sent the assailant rocketing through the air to crash violently through the heavy academy gates.
"So, tell me what comes next?" he asked while slowly turning his gaze toward the elder. The old man summoned a massive trident, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the cold steel shaft with murderous intent. "Brat, today I will teach you about the true horror of the water curse." The trident shimmered with an ominous luminescence as he executed a series of rapid and esoteric hand gestures. A malevolent and suffocating aura instantly manifested, saturating the atmosphere with a palpable dread that terrified the onlookers. He charged forward with incredible speed to deliver a fatal blow.
He effortlessly intercepted the trident's lethal path and retaliated with a mirrored strike that launched the elder backward. Although he wielded no physical weapon, he possessed an arsenal of limitless spacial grade spells and immense elemental power. He utilized the Butterfly Effect technique, which allowed a minimal exertion of force to result in devastating structural damage. Additionally, his Reverse Energy technique granted him the terrifying ability to assimilate incoming attacks and convert that foreign energy into his own. He also possessed a supreme innate skill that allowed him to instantly comprehend and replicate any technique he witnessed. His true potential was currently bound by eighteen intricate seals that were designed to vanish only upon his mastery of control. Even while suppressed by these seals, he could execute attacks that reached the absolute pinnacle of what humanity could theoretically achieve. However, the seals imposed a severe physical limitation that left his body as fragile as that of a common mortal. Consequently, he remained susceptible to mundane diseases and could be fatally wounded by high-grade weapons if his guard faltered.