Chapter 1: The First Day of School

  The September air was scorching under the blazing sun. The school gate was packed with people, and the air was thick with the mixed scent of sunscreen and sweat.

  Anxious parents called out nonstop, their voices blending with the deafening cries of cicadas, forming an inescapable web of noise that smothered every student trying to slip away unnoticed.

  Thirty meters away, under the shade of a tree, Tom Black sat lazily with one leg crossed over the other, leisurely eating an ice pop. The commotion and chaos around him seemed to have no effect on him. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his face, highlighting his sharp features. Yet, there was also a hint of roguishness about him—like a character straight out of a low-budget B-movie villain lineup.

  He licked the last drop of melted syrup off the ice pop stick, suddenly realizing that the action might have been a bit too arrogant. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

  After all, he was a reborn man.

  In his past life, Tom Black had mastered the art of self-destruction to perfection.

  His high school entrance exam scores were painfully average—about as remarkable as the free seaweed egg soup in the school cafeteria. His father, John Black, had emptied his savings just to squeeze him into a private high school. And what did this idiot do? He marched straight into an internet café, spending three whole years honing his “skills” in the dim glow of a gaming booth—eventually earning himself an “Honorary Degree in Bricklaying, VIP Edition” from the prestigious University of Society.

  Then, on a sweltering summer afternoon, he squatted next to a pile of rebar, clutching a cup of instant noodles, watching people his age walk into office buildings in crisp suits. It was only then that regret hit him like a truck.

  But fate had other plans—he got a second chance.

  This time, he put on an Oscar-worthy performance, cramming like a madman for the last two years before the exam. Even the family dog was so spooked by his 4 AM study sessions that it wet the bed three times.

  The result? A stunning 631 points. A legendary comeback.

  Even the school director was so shocked that he called Tom’s father in the middle of the night, his voice filled with the kind of excitement reserved for discovering a math Olympiad champion:

  “Your son is a genius! He belongs at Winter Peak Academy!”

  And so, here he was.

  But before Tom Black could fully bask in his own achievement, a thunderous roar erupted behind him, scaring three sparrows off the tree:

  “You little punk! Quit acting like a brooding heartthrob!”

  Tom turned around to see his father striding over, a tattooed arm carrying a bag of chilled watermelon slices, the other hand holding the tuition receipt—looking like a retired gang member who had switched to the honest business of dropping his kid off at school.

  Tom’s eye twitched. He reached out and poked his father’s arm. His fingertip immediately turned blue.

  “…How many times have I told you? Temporary tattoos wash off.”

  John Black coughed awkwardly but quickly switched to “Father Mode”: “No fighting in the dorms, order takeout if you can’t get food in the cafeteria, and if some punk messes with you—”

  Under his son’s gentle yet deadly gaze, he abruptly changed his tune: “Ahem. Just call me if you need money!”

  Tom couldn’t be bothered to argue. Just as he was about to take the tuition receipt, a familiar figure at the registration desk caught his eye.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  A twin-tailed girl was using a textbook to block the sun. Her fair legs swung slightly under her skirt, enough to make anyone a little dizzy.

  Tom instinctively leaned back—reborn or not, he had no intention of getting dragged into some cliché love triangle drama on the first day of school.

  But before he could sort out his thoughts, a calm yet commanding female voice sliced through the sweltering air:

  “Tom Black, is it?”

  He looked up—and met the gaze of Eliza White.

  For a split second, his pupils trembled.

  The Ice Queen of Winter Peak Academy.

  A living academic weapon, responsible for guiding three consecutive classes to top universities.

  She stood before him, dressed in a crisp white blouse, her sweat-soaked fabric clinging to her skin, leaving tantalizing traces. Her golden-rimmed glasses slid slightly down the bridge of her nose, exuding an aura of dangerous intellectual charm…

  For some reason, it felt like the opening scene of a very questionable workplace drama.

  A thousand thoughts flashed through Tom’s mind, and he came to one solid conclusion:

  This woman was not to be messed with.

  “Class 12, first year.” Eliza White glanced at the roster, crossed off a name, then looked up. “Go line up—”

  Before she could finish, a shadow darted past her, stopping two meters ahead.

  The entire crowd gasped.

  They watched as Tom Black—this 187 cm (6’2”) tall guy—casually strolled to the front of the line like he owned the place.

  The boys in front instinctively looked down to check their shoelaces, internally screaming—

  “Did this guy grow up on growth hormones?!”

  Just as the atmosphere turned awkward, a head with shiny curly hair suddenly spun 180 degrees toward him. The guy grinned excitedly:

  “Bro, any tips on growing taller?”

  Tom stared at the greasy curls and seriously suggested, “Hang upside down for two hours a day. It helps redistribute brain cells.”

  The guy blinked for three seconds, then burst into laughter, slapping his thigh:

  “Jack Green. Let’s be friends?”

  He enthusiastically extended his hand.

  Tom glanced at the palm—sticky with chewing gum—and strategically leaned back: “Sure, but call me Daddy first.”

  At that moment, the school director happened to pass by, shooting them a dangerously sharp look.

  …

  The students were soon led to the teaching building by Eliza White. Tom trailed at the back of the line and suddenly glanced back.

  At the school gate, John Black was still standing there, waving at him. Under the scorching sun, his “Blue Dragon” T-shirt flapped like a battle flag.

  Tom’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. He pulled out his phone and sent a text:

  “Old man, I bought out the tattoo shop. You better show me a real dragon at my graduation.”

  The wind carried the lingering hum of cicadas, along with his lazy drawl—

  “This is your first lesson, son—people are dangerous.”

  Jack Green yelled, “Tom Black! You stepped on my shoelace, didn’t you?!”

  —And just like that, on the very first day of school, Tom Black successfully ignited the powder keg that was Winter Peak Academy.