Southland University, inside the dormitory.
Creak.
The old electric fan slowly stirred the gentle breeze.
Kevin Lin wore a peculiar expression, reaching out to sense the air currents. "It's already autumn. Why are you still using the electric fan?"
"Martial practice."
Andrew Han's gaze fell on his phone screen.
The subtle movement of air helped him more clearly comprehend the Cascade of Three Thousand Streams.
At the moment, Andrew was sending a WeChat message to Sam Sun. Sam was one of his few close friends from high school, admitted to Greenfield College of Finance with a Fifth Rank martial rating.
"How have you been lately? Made it to Fourth Rank yet?" Andrew asked.
"Haha, not that fast. It'll take a while to reach Fourth Rank," Sam replied. "I've recently joined a fitness club—met a few girls, hehe."
Uh.
Are there girls in the fitness club too?
Andrew didn't really get it. After chatting with Sam for a bit, he planned to visit Greenfield College of Finance when he had time to see his old friend.
"What a pity."
"Given Sam's current rank, he'll probably graduate as a Third Rank martial student—unlikely to ever step into the Martial Arts World."
Andrew put down his phone and let out a quiet sigh.
Crack, crack.
He stretched out his palm and squeezed twice. As his joints popped, his robust Presented Liquid Internal Power began to flow, and the technique from his master proved truly effective.
Whoosh, whoosh.
As his blood coursed through his veins, it faintly resembled the murmuring of a river.
After a while.
Kevin Lin pulled out his phone and checked it twice, then said gravely, "I have to go. These days, Carter Yan has been teaching us basic moves to help link techniques together."
Linking?
Andrew was briefly stunned, then understood.
Unless one reaches Transcendent mastery, there's a brief gap after executing a technique.
"Oh, right."
"The day after tomorrow, students from Brightlake University's Martial Arts Program are coming for a challenge match. You know about it, right?" Kevin said as he stood up and mentioned it at the door.
Brightlake University and Southland University's martial students often spar and compete, with fierce rivalry and strong competitive spirit. It's almost a tradition—there's a challenge match nearly every year.
Last year, Southland University initiated the challenge and apparently won.
"Mm."
Andrew nodded.
"Alright, I'm off to training." Kevin gently closed the dormitory door and headed for the Athletics Hall.
Bang.
The iron door shut, and silence returned to the dorm room.
Andrew sat in his chair, his gaze calm. Most of his time was spent on martial practice—he rarely paid attention to other matters.
As for Carter Yan's training, it meant nothing to Andrew.
Once you've reached Transcendent mastery, further progress in techniques depends solely on your own comprehension. Methods taught by others always bear external traces—they aren't true personal insight.
Whoosh, whoosh.
A cool autumn breeze drifted into the dorm, carrying a faint chill.
Andrew stretched his arms and legs, then walked slowly to the window. Gazing at the peaceful campus and the students coming and going, he let out a breath.
"I'll wait a bit longer before investigating memories of my previous life."
"There's still a month before the Martial Student Ranking Tournament. For now, I'll focus on preparing for it and set other matters aside."
Placing in the top three and taking first place are two very different things.
Even though he was confident in his strength, with his Presented Liquid Internal Power concealed and without entering Berserker State... to claim first, he'd have to go all out.
At that moment, shouts rose from below the dorm.
Thump, thump.
A boy dribbled his basketball and waved his hand. "Hurry up! If we're late, there won't be any spots left on the court."
He wore a fitted tank top, drawing attention.
Three or five boys rushed out to join him, heading for the basketball court. All wore tank tops, revealing their strong, athletic builds.
This was everyday life on campus.
Andrew watched quietly, not with condescension but with silent observation—he probably wouldn't get to experience such leisurely days anymore.
As time passed—
He was drawing ever closer to the Martial Arts World; moments of ordinary life were growing scarce.
"Might as well take on a mission this weekend."
"It'd be best to master another technique, reach Fusion-level." He turned and walked back to his bed, picking up his Martial Communicator.
Assistance-type missions...
Elimination-type missions...
Investigation-type missions...
The densely populated areas around Greenfield City attracted many Demons and Specters. Only thanks to the martial practitioners' frequent purges had society remained stable.
"Most of these missions deal with ordinary Demons and Specters."