The multi-ton hydraulic brakes of the high-speed passenger train shrieked with a deep, low-frequency hum as the vehicle slowly glided into Capital Station Grid Sector 01. Outside the reinforced double-paned glass, the sheer architectural scale of the capital city was dizzying. Towering, interconnected skyscrapers clad in reflective smart-glass sliced straight through the low-hanging overcast clouds, their upper balconies laced with localized lightning-dispersal rods.
Lin Feng stood up from his economy seat, smoothly pulling his gray utility backpack from the overhead luggage rack.
A few rows ahead, a flurry of activity broke out. Zhao Ming, the arrogant young master of the Capitalās primary branch, marched out of the first-class carriage divider. His white linen shirt remained pristine, but his jaw line was clenched in tight, visible irritation. Beside him, the thick-eared Stage 7 protector, Old Tang, kept a hand tucked inside his sleeve, his eyes still frantically sweeping the exiting crowd for the phantom "smuggler" who had grounded their tracking network.
They passed right by Lin Feng on the platform, their heavy tactical boots clicking against the polished composite tiles. Neither of them spared a single glance for the thin student in the dark hoodie.
The Capital branch has completely misread the table,
Lin Feng calculated calmly, blending seamlessly into the vast wave of deboarding travelers.
They are deploying electronic drag-nets across the commercial transport docks, assuming the thief is trying to liquidate the Mount Tai jades through standard black-market channels. They don't understand that the energy is already circulating through my Ren Channel, compressed into a self-sustaining internal engine.
He walked past the grand glass atrium of the terminal, bypassing the commercial taxi loops to step straight into an unbranded administrative shuttle van that bore a small, matte-black seal on its side panel:
EXPERIMENTAL ATHLETIC KINESIOLOGY RESEARCH ā INSTITUTE 01.
The driver, a rigid man wearing a high-collared navy uniform, didn't ask for a name. He simply scanned Lin Fengās digital pass. The device let out a sharp, encrypted green flash, verifying his status as the
Jiangnan Provincial Merit Representative
.
The shuttle doors hissed shut, and the automated vehicle silently integrated into the high-speed subterranean mag-lev lanes, leaving the chaotic tracking net of the Zhao family far behind.
Thirty minutes later, the shuttle emerged from a subterranean tunnel, pulling into the heavily guarded perimeter of the Imperial Cultivation Academy. Squeezed tightly between a sprawling mountain nature reserve and the northern military defense perimeter, the academy looked more like a fortified state complex than an institute of higher learning. High white-stone walls topped with active laser-deflection grids surrounded the territory, and the main gateway was flanked by twin armored guard pods housing automated multi-spectrum thermal sensors.
Lin Feng stepped out of the shuttle, his boots touching the wet stone pavings of the grand entry plaza. The air here was starkly different from the polluted industrial quarters of Jiangnan; it felt crisp, sharp, and carried a faint, rhythmic vibration that ordinary humans would dismiss as standard tectonic micro-seisms.
But to Lin Feng's
Qi Circulation ChannelingāStage 1
senses, the topography of the academy was starkly exposed.
A primary fault node intersection,
Lin Feng analyzed, his eyes scanning the grand marble pillars of the main administrative hall.
The state engineers have secretly anchored six massive, subterranean granite anchors beneath the campus to containerize the leaking spiritual currents. Before the Grand Awakening rewritten global law, this is the richest synthetic sanctuary in the entire northern sector.
"Name. Identification packet. Provincial registry confirmation."
The voice was cold, sharp, and entirely devoid of academic warmth. Standing behind a reinforced titanium check-in desk at the plaza edge was a middle-aged woman wearing a tailored, dark crimson instructor's tunic. Her hair was pulled back into a severe, blade-like bun, and her steady, slow respiration pattern indicated she had manually dilated her secondary meridians, maintaining an artificial Stage 8 Flesh Refinement baseline.
Lin Feng stepped forward, presenting his cheap smartphone to the desk terminal. "Lin Feng. Jiangnan Provincial Registry. Merit Representative."
The instructor scanned the digital packet, her sharp eyes slowly shifting upward to scrutinize Lin Fengās lean frame, his unremarkable gray jacket, and his worn backpack. A faint, visible flash of disappointment and skepticism crossed her features.
"Jiangnan Province," the instructor muttered, her voice laced with an institutional disdain common to capital elites. "Your regional evaluation sheets log you as a baseline civilian laborer who scored 'exceptional spatial reflexes' during an accidental industrial excavation collapse at a real estate site. No martial lineage. No clan backing. No pre-awakening breathing foundation."
She tapped the keyboard with a sharp click, assigning a plastic, white electronic key-tag across the desk.
"You are assigned to Dormitory Block D, Room 409," she commanded flatly. "The low-tier independent sector. Your physical review and meridian baseline screening will take place tomorrow at 08:00 AM in the South Training Hall. A word of warning, Student Lin: the Imperial Academy is funded by state syndicates, not public charity. If your screening shows that your 'spatial reflexes' were just a fluke of luck, your provincial allocation will be revoked, and you will be returned to Jiangnan by noon."
Lin Feng picked up the white key-tag, his face remaining a perfect mask of quiet, submissive humility. "Thank you, Instructor. I understand."
As he turned away from the desk, his backpack slung over one shoulder, a cold, undefeated smile played at the edge of his lips.
A fluke of luck,
he thought, his vacant, bottomless eyes looking toward the sprawling training complexes.
They are preparing a standard meridian screening array to measure mortal muscle density and unawakened lung capacity. They have no idea that the student they just assigned to the low-tier block is the only true Qi Circulation cultivator currently walking on this campus.
A minor institutional mishap, but the board was set, the ticket was punched, and the grueling ascent toward absolute dominance among the capital's geniuses was about to begin.