Feng Zhiming nearly fainted from the shock. He had taken possession of an instructor's body—a rather immoral one at that.

The next morning, he stood before a mirror, still reeling from the events of the night. Despite his efforts, he couldn't escape the situation without compromising his identity. The girl had left, leaving Feng Zhiming drained.

He examined his reflection: black hair streaked with silver, dull black eyes. His appearance was slightly above average, a middle-aged man whose bone age indicated about five hundred years.

"So this is what Divine sense feels like," Feng Zhiming murmured, deftly using his divine sense to tidy the disheveled sheets.

It was similar to spiritual sense, but where spiritual sense felt like trying to shape things from sand, divine sense was solid, easier to control.

This new body was in the Quasi Spiritual Awakening realm. His name was now Ryes, a refugee from the wildlands who had enrolled in the sect and eventually became an instructor. Along the way, he had stumbled upon scriptures mentioning the Acaritas.

Ryes's talent was unremarkable, but through constant prayers to the One of Truth and Veracity, he had overcome his lowborn status and achieved Spiritual Awakening. His control over Qi was immense, almost unnaturally so, allowing him to specialize as an instructor in Qi control.

"The Seal of Beast Suppression," Feng Zhiming muttered, lost in thought. He knew the sects often had armories filled with treasures. His first task would be to uncover more about that. Yet, he also needed to maintain his identity as a teacher.

As he gazed out the window, he noticed the sun rising.

"I'm going to be late for my own class," he realized.

Feng Zhiming quickly donned the light blue scholarly robes from the man's closet and dashed out of the room.

To make matters worse, it was the first class for a new batch of students. The academy in this sect was structured into three years of instruction, and he was responsible for teaching the first two years, the girl from last night was a second-year student.

It seemed he must have quite a reputation for a second-year student to go to such lengths for a private lesson.

Feng Zhiming flew down the mountain toward the academy, a grand structure that stood out against the rugged landscape. The building was designed with an air of authority and elegance, featuring tall, pointed towers that reached toward the sky, connected by arched walkways.

The main hall was built from polished stone, its large archways welcoming students and instructors alike. Stained-glass windows adorned the exterior, casting colorful reflections on the courtyard below. Inside, the ceilings were high, supported by sturdy columns that lined the corridors. The lecture rooms were spacious, with tiered seating and warm lighting that created an atmosphere of focus.

As he arrived at the door, he took a deep breath.

"I've done this many times. I can do it easily."

He delved into the man's memories, mimicking his demeanor. With a graceful step, he entered the room, hands clasped behind his back, exuding a regal and scholarly air.

As Feng Zhiming walked to the podium at the center of the room, he felt the weight of fifty pairs of eyes on him from the tiered seating above.

"Welcome to your first lecture on Qi control," Feng Zhiming began, just as the class was about to start.

A student looked around, puzzled, before hesitantly raising his hand. Feng Zhiming gestured for him to speak.

"Instructor, this is the lecture hall for the Spiritual Inscription class," the student said quietly.

Feng Zhiming smiled. "I see," he replied calmly. "I was just sent in here to see if any of you have the backbone to correct an instructor."

He gave the student who spoke up a thumbs up, acknowledging his courage, before promptly exiting the room. Leaving behind a very confused group of students.

After a rather embarrassing walk, he found himself standing in the correct room, facing another group of fifty disciples.

"Welcome to your first lecture on Qi control," Feng Zhiming began, almost perfectly timed as the students looked down at him with anticipation.

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The class was a diverse mix of students, some at the peak of Foundation Establishment and others in various stages of Ethereal Core cultivation.

"To first understand what Qi is, we must understand what we are," he continued, seamlessly slipping into his specialty, the art of bullshittery, in which he was truly unmatched.

The students nodded, their attention fully on him.

"We are cultivators, and we bend Qi to our whims," he declared, watching as they nodded again, accepting his words.

"WRONG!" Feng Zhiming suddenly reprimanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the room like a blade. The students flinched, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“How arrogant you all are," Feng Zhiming's voice echoed through the hall. "Qi is what gives us form, Qi is what gives the world form. Do you think you can bend such a force to your whims?"

With a wave of his hand, he lifted one of the disciples into the air, effortlessly demonstrating his command over Qi.

"When I exercise my control over Qi, I do not bend it to my whim. I brandish Qi like a sword. Have you ever seen a swordsman treat their sword as a toy? You must treat it with respect and dignity," he instructed, his tone firm and unwavering.

The student was slowly lowered back into their seat, visibly shaken.

"Now, do you all have an understanding of Qi?" Feng Zhiming asked.

The students hesitated for a moment before nodding cautiously.

"WRONG!" he rebuked them once more, his voice sharp and unyielding.

The students felt their heads spinning from the intensity of the lecture.

"Qi is as complex as it is abundant," Feng Zhiming continued, his voice dropping to a measured tone. "There is no one alive who would dare to claim they fully understand Qi."

Feng Zhiming raised his hands before him.

"On one hand, we can manipulate Qi to replicate a flame. However, this flame is naturally occurring," Feng Zhiming said, conjuring a regular flame in his right hand.

"But on the other hand, we can treat Qi as something greater," he continued, his voice growing more intense. "We can delve deeper into the nature of flame, have it fold in on itself, expand, and create it anew."

In his left hand, a different fire burned, one that filled the students with an instinctual sense of danger, as if it could vaporize them with a single touch.

This was Feng Zhiming’s sixth and final original technique, the Art of Qi Refining. He hadn’t used it since coming to this world, except for the time he had reduced the sect leaders of the Flowing River Sect and the Hiding Demon Sect to ashes.

It was partly due to his mastery of this technique that he had been able to split the quanta of Qi in his fight against the Holy Knight.

He did not explain the intricate theory behind this technique, he simply presented it to the students to illustrate the depth of Qi control. There was no reason to share such profound knowledge without a worthy cause.

"Instructor, how can we achieve such control?" a young man in the front row asked, his spiky hair and brown eyes reflecting his determination. His cultivation was at the Quasi Stage of the Ethereal Core.

"The first step is..." Feng Zhiming began, and then proceeded to waste the next three hours leading the class with a stream of meaningless words. He couldn’t cut the lecture short, every instructor was required to fulfill their lecture obligations.

"That concludes the class," Feng Zhiming finally announced, bringing the session to an end.

The lecture hall gradually emptied, leaving Feng Zhiming alone with the young man who had asked the question.

"Thank you for the amazing lecture, professor. My name is Sirus. I'm also a refugee from the Wildlands, and I deeply admire you. I hope to be like you someday," Sirus said, his voice filled with sincerity.

Feng Zhiming smiled. "You have a good curiosity, it will assist you greatly in achieving your goals."

He was about to dismiss the young man when Sirus spoke up again. "If there's an opportunity for students in the future, I hope you'll consider me."

Feng Zhiming nodded, and Sirus left.

"A refugee with a chip on his shoulder," Feng Zhiming thought to himself, making a mental note of the young man. Someone with lofty aspirations was always the easiest to manipulate.

He stood before the podium, waiting for his second-year class to settle in.

"An opportunity for students," he mused, letting a memory resurface.

"There is a way for students to access the armory. If they ranked in the top five of their respective years, they would be allowed to enter the armory and receive a Spiritual Weapon. Furthermore, if three students nominated a teacher, the teacher could also receive a Spiritual Weapon," he mumbled to himself.

This meant that he would actually have to teach three students enough for them to nominate him.

"I've never taught a soul and now I have to teach someone to the extent of gratitude?" He thought to himself and sighed, already exhausted at the prospect.

But it was the best course of action to determine if the Seal of Beast Suppression was hidden in the armory.

{What a riveting lecture}

A sarcastic voice appeared in his mind.

Feng Zhiming froze up for a moment before coming to the only conclusion he could about the voice in his head.

"Scholar of Black, why am I not surprised?"

Just when he thought his head had been free of residents, another one appeared.

{Amazing insight}

"What are you doing here?" He spoke internally.

{You don't sound grateful, I've been shielding you from the Administrator's puppet all this time. That was until you tricked it into killing itself}

"At at the beckon of your lord no doubt, I mean what are you doing now?"

{Enjoying the show}

Feng Zhiming exhaled slowly, now was not the time to argue with a voice in his head.

"Umm, professor?"

A meek voice broke through his concentration. He looked up to find a batch of 25 students watching him from their seats.

"Would you like to see our Qi control progress?" asked a young woman with glasses and long braided hair, the one who had snapped him out of his daze.

"Ah, yes," Feng Zhiming replied, pulling himself back to the present. Keeping up this facade was already starting to bore him.