Asmon tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Push you? I wouldn’t dream of it! But if you need help finding your way out, I’m more than happy to assist.”
Lucas scoffed, trying to brush off the insult as he turned to leave. “You’re not worth my time.”
But before he could take another step, Asmon moved like a shadow, using his ‘Almost Great Step’ technique to appear right beside him. With a firm grip on Lucas’s shoulder, he shoved him forward, sending him stumbling.
“Oops,” Asmon said lightly. “Careful there. Wouldn’t want you to trip.”
Lucas Yates spun around, his face a mixture of rage and humiliation. “You’re going to regret this! My brother—”
“Save it,” Asmon interrupted, his voice cold. With a swift motion, he grabbed Lucas Yates by the collar and gave him a well-placed kick, sending him rolling out of the classroom like a sack of potatoes.
The room fell into stunned silence. A few C-class student exchanged wide-eyed glances, too shocked to say anything. Asmon dusted off his hands like he’d just taken out the trash and turned back toward his seat, utterly unfazed.
After dinner, Asmon returned to his dorm room, the day’s events still fresh in his mind. Putting Lucas in his place had been satisfying, but he wasn’t naive. Lucas wasn’t the type to let things go, especially with a big-shot older brother like Owen Yates looming in the background.
Owen Yates was no small fry—he was the golden boy of Goldenridge City, a top genius who had joined Silvercrest Martial Institute a year ago. In no time, Owen had climbed the ranks to become an inner mansion student, earning a spot on the prestigious Silvercrest Genius List. The guy was basically a walking billboard for overachievement, and his cultivation was leagues ahead of Asmon’s current level.
But Asmon wasn’t the type to dwell on what-ifs. He sat cross-legged on his bed, pulling out three pills he’d collected: a Body Tempering Pill from Lucas (thank you, idiot), another from a past wager, and a Low Qi Essence Pill he’d crafted during class.
He picked up the Low Qi Essence Pill first, popping it into his mouth with zero hesitation.
[You’ve consumed a Low Qi Essence Pill. Energy surged, absorption maximized, breakthrough achieved. You have advanced to the Seventh Level of Body Tempering!]
“Well, that was easy,” Asmon muttered, feeling the surge of energy coursing through him. “Next!”
He tossed the two Body Tempering Pills into his mouth like they were candy.
[You’ve consumed a Body Tempering Pill. Energy intensified, absorption maximized, progress accelerated.]
[You’ve consumed another Body Tempering Pill. Power surged, refinement optimized, breakthrough imminent.]
[You have advanced to the Eighth Level of Body Tempering.]
[You have advanced to the Ninth Level of Body Tempering.]
[Your Body Tempering mastery is complete. Foundation solidified, transformation achieved. You have ascended to the First Level of Imperial Qi.]
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A rush of power erupted in Asmon’s dantian, spreading through his meridians like a tidal wave. The sensation was exhilarating, like he’d just unlocked a whole new version of himself.
“Not bad,” he said, a triumphant smile creeping onto his face. “From sixth-level Body Tempering to Imperial Qi in one sitting. System, you’re officially my favorite thing in the universe.”
With his newfound strength, Asmon felt ready to take on whatever challenges came his way. Lucas, Owen, A-class student status—he’d face it all head-on. After all, if life was a game, Asmon was here to win.
Familiar with the surge of newfound strength coursing through his body, Asmon flopped onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, instantly succumbing to a blissful, well-deserved slumber. For once, the worries of the day could wait—until tomorrow, anyway.
The next morning, a messenger arrived bearing a shiny A-class student ID badge, courtesy of Sophia Lexington . After a quick splash of water to shake off the remnants of sleep, Asmon pocketed the badge and headed for the A-class student accommodation area. At Silvercrest, the hierarchy wasn’t just a concept; it was a lifestyle. C-class students crammed into dormitories with bunk beds and leaky faucets, while A-class students lounged in private courtyards complete with picturesque gardens and aura that screamed, 'Don’t talk to me unless you’re delivering food.'
Asmon’s new digs? Courtyard 20. Fancy. After a bit of wandering (because apparently, directions were overrated), he finally found it. Just as he reached the entrance, a human roadblock appeared—a broad-shouldered, beefy young man who looked like he moonlit as a boulder.
“You’re the new guy, Asmon, right?” the boulder spoke, his voice a mix of gravel and arrogance. “This courtyard? I like it. You can find yourself another one.”
Asmon blinked, half-wondering if he’d misheard. “And you are…?”
The young man crossed his arms like he was posing for a statue commission. “Jhonson Dawson.”
Ah. The name clicked. Jhonson—the campus big shot, nicknamed ‘Big Monty‘ top A-class student of the outer palace, and apparently, a self-proclaimed courtyard connoisseur. Word on the street was that he was on the verge of stepping into the imperial aura realm. Which begged the question: 'Why is this guy playing courtyard musical chairs with me?'
Asmon straightened, offering a polite nod. “Ah, Senior Big Monty. I’ve heard of your reputation. However, this courtyard was assigned to me by the teacher Sophia. Wouldn’t it be… inappropriate to just take it?”
Big Monty smirked like a cat who’d cornered a very smug mouse. “Fairness? That’s cute. I don’t care what the she says. When I want something, I take it. That’s how it works around here.”
Asmon’s polite smile didn’t falter, though his patience started to. “I see. Unfortunately, I’m not in the mood to ‘share.’ Maybe you should go back to your old place.”
By now, students were gathering like moths to drama, whispering and gawking. “Is he seriously standing up to Big Monty? Does he have a death wish?”
Big Monty’s expression darkened. “You’ve got guts, kid. Too bad guts won’t save you. I heard you caused trouble with Lucas on your first day. Looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners on behalf of Brother Owen.”
'Oh, so that’s what this is about.' Asmon’s mind clicked into place. 'A hired thug with delusions of grandeur. How original.'
“Let me get this straight,” Asmon said, tilting his head. “The great Big Monty is running errands for Owen now? I didn’t realize being top student came with butler duties.”
The crowd collectively gasped. Big Monty’s face contorted with a mix of rage and disbelief. “You’ll pay for that, you arrogant little—”
Before he could finish, he lunged, his hand curling into a claw aimed straight for Asmon’s throat. The crowd braced for impact, their mental calculators already tallying the number of bones Asmon would lose.
But instead of the anticipated carnage, Asmon disappeared in a blur, reappearing a few feet away like he’d just taken a casual stroll. The Almost Great Step technique worked wonders, especially when dodging oversized egos.
Big Monty stumbled slightly, his hand grasping at air. He straightened, glaring. “Not bad. Looks like you’ve got some tricks. But don’t think for a second that’ll save you.”
Asmon crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Senior Big Monty, aren’t you worried about the rules? Silvercrest Martial Institute doesn’t exactly encourage private fights, you know. Getting expelled over a courtyard seems a bit… excessive.”