"You Ian Song, right? Victor wants to see you. Come with us!"
Ian Song was slightly taken aback. This so-called Victor must be one of the school's four notorious troublemakers, but as far as Ian knew, he’d never had any dealings with him. Why was Victor looking for him now?
"Quit dawdling—move it!"
"Alright, I’ll go with you." Ian nodded meekly and followed behind the two tall boys.
In the grove beside the school’s athletic field, a long-haired boy stood with his hands in his pockets, back facing Ian. The two students flanking Ian respectfully said, "Victor, we brought the kid."
The long-haired boy slowly turned around. His gaze was sharp, his brows carried a hint of arrogance, and suddenly, a playful smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He crooked his finger at Ian: "Ian Song, do you know why I called you here?"
Ian shook his head in confusion. "No idea."
Victor’s smile grew more wicked. "Slap yourself twice, then I’ll tell you what’s going on."
Ian’s expression darkened, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes. Just because he kept a low profile at school didn’t mean he’d let anyone push him around.
Enough is enough!
Ian was furious, glaring coldly at them. "Don’t push me!"
"Oh, trying to dodge, huh? You’ve got some guts!" Felix Wang sneered and lunged at Ian, swinging his hand for a slap.
Just as Felix’s hand was about to land on Ian’s cheek, Ian stepped back, dodging the slap. Then, quick as lightning, he slapped Felix right across the face.
Smack!
A loud, clean slap echoed through the grove. Felix staggered back a few steps, staring at Ian in disbelief. He hadn’t expected Ian not only to fight back, but to hit him so hard.
"Remember, don’t mess with me again!"
With that, Ian turned and walked away.
Watching Ian swagger off, Victor Xue nearly ground his teeth to dust in frustration.
William Yan stormed into the classroom, slamming his textbook onto the podium. Instantly, the atmosphere grew tense.
"Ian Song, stand up!"
Ian stood up from his seat, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He looked at William Yan in confusion. "Is there something you need, Mr. Yan?"
Seeing Ian like this, William Yan’s anger flared. He shouted, "I should be asking you what’s going on! Why were you fighting? The teacher from Class Three came looking for me! Your grades are already dragging the whole class down, and now you’re ruining our reputation too. You’re getting more and more hopeless!"
Ian instantly realized Victor must have tattled to the teachers. He thought even less of Victor now.
"Ian Song!!"
William Yan’s voice grew even louder, his gaze turning hostile. "This is your last warning. If you don’t shape up, I’ll recommend expulsion to the principal."
"Got it." Ian replied with his head down.
"Sit down." Seeing Ian looking so hopeless, William Yan couldn’t help but feel a wave of disgust. He secretly decided that if Ian didn’t straighten out, he’d push for expulsion.
"Yes, sir."
Ian sat back down. He wanted to go back to sleep, but thought better of it—no need to provoke Mr. Yan any further.
At the podium, William Yan launched into his usual speech about the importance of the college entrance exams, urging everyone to study hard and aim for a good university.
Ian Song, male, seventeen years old, six foot tall, a local of Xiang City. He’s a senior in Grade 12, Class 9 at Saint Night High School, with terrible grades and little love from his teachers—especially his homeroom teacher, William Yan, who can’t stand him.
His parents died in a car accident when he was ten, and he’s been living with his uncle Stephen Song ever since. Uncle Stephen is currently the deputy director of the Xiang City Education Bureau.
That’s the only reason the school tolerates a student as bad as him. Of course, getting into Saint Night High—one of the best and most famous schools in the city, even well-known across the Yanhuang Republic—was thanks to his uncle pulling strings.
Ian was genuinely grateful to his uncle. Without him, Ian’s abysmal entrance exam scores would never have gotten him into Saint Night High.
When it came to food, clothes, even pocket money, his uncle never shortchanged him. That’s exactly why Ian kept such a low profile at school—he didn’t want to cause his uncle any trouble.
Still, it was hard for him to think of his uncle’s house as home—mostly because of his sharp-tongued aunt.
When Uncle Stephen was home, his aunt acted kind and gentle. But as soon as he left, she’d turn cold and hit Ian with sharp, cutting remarks. Ian was at the age where he couldn’t stand that kind of treatment, so he really resented her.
That’s also why he chose to live at school.
After school, Ian dropped his backpack off at the dorms and headed toward his uncle’s house alone.
It was Friday—no classes tomorrow or the day after.
The Yanhuang Republic’s Ministry of Education had strict rules: schools were forbidden to hold extra classes on weekends. Any violation would mean a massive fine.
So even with the college entrance exams only three months away, weekends were always kept free.
Honestly, Ian didn’t really want to go to his uncle’s house, but Uncle Stephen insisted, and Ian couldn’t refuse his kindness.
Uncle Stephen lived in Amethyst Court, an upscale complex. Government jobs paid well in the Yanhuang Republic, and as a deputy director, Uncle Stephen’s annual salary plus bonuses and benefits topped a million yuan.
Knock, knock.
Ian knocked on his uncle’s door.
The door was opened by a beautiful, tall teenage girl. When she saw Ian standing outside, she turned and walked away without a word.
The girl was Shelly Song, his younger cousin. She was just over sixteen, already taller than five foot nine, with a classic model’s figure. You had to admit, the Song family had good genes—the men were tall and handsome, the women tall and beautiful.
Shelly was also a student at Saint Night High, a senior like Ian. Compared to him, her grades were worlds apart—she left him in the dust.
Maybe it was his aunt’s influence, but Shelly had always been cold to her cousin. At school, she never greeted him; even when Ian said hello, Shelly usually ignored him.
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Ian changed his shoes and glanced around the living room, but didn’t see his uncle. He asked, "Shelly, where’s Uncle Stephen? Is he still at work?"
"Something came up at work. He’s not coming home." Shelly replied coldly.
"Oh." Ian answered, wanting to turn and leave. Being around this mother-daughter pair was stressful.
Ten minutes later, Ian was eating quietly, head down over his bowl, when Aunt Yvonne suddenly set down her chopsticks and demanded, "Ian, did you get into a fight?"
"Yeah." Ian nodded quietly. He hadn’t expected Aunt Yvonne to know about it already—maybe Shelly had told her? Before school let out, word had gotten around about him hitting Victor Xue.
"You’re getting more and more out of line! Do you realize how much effort your uncle put in to get you into Saint Night High? Can’t you behave and stop dragging him down?"
"I know. I won’t do it again." Ian replied in a low voice, but felt a strange sense of frustration.
After dinner, Ian left his uncle’s house in low spirits, Aunt Yvonne’s lecture still ringing in his ears.
On his way back to the dorms, Ian felt more lost than ever. He had no idea where his future was headed.
With his terrible grades, Ian couldn’t even get into the worst technical college. Of course, he knew that if he asked, his uncle would still find a way to get him into a decent university, no matter how hard it was.
But he didn’t want to trouble his uncle anymore. The driver who killed his parents had fled and was never caught, so Ian never received a penny in compensation. For seven years, everything—food, clothes, tuition—had been paid by his uncle. Maybe that’s why Aunt Yvonne disliked him so much.
He didn’t want to be a burden to his uncle any longer, and he hated living off someone else.
Honestly, he wanted to do well in school and get into a good university, but studying just wasn’t his thing—his head spun every time he opened a textbook.
If only I were a genius… Forget it. Once the exams are over, I’ll go work in another city. Maybe someday I’ll pay Uncle Stephen back! Ian thought to himself.
"Ow, what hit me?"
Suddenly, Ian felt something strike his head. Then came a metallic "ding," and a silver ring bounced off his head, rolled a short distance, and stopped.
He bent down to pick up the ring, glancing around instinctively. The spot was pretty secluded, and there was no one else around. So where did the ring come from?
Did it really fall from the sky?
The ring looked totally ordinary—probably pure silver—with no patterns except for the Arabic numeral "1."
But as Ian stared at the "1," his mind grew hazy. A distant, echoing voice whispered in his ear: "Milky Way Ring successfully bound to host Ian Song. Activating now…!"