Lingchen Yao listened, stunned, like a deer frozen in neon rain. To an outsider, the Eye Orb sounded righteous, and Magic Maidens sounded like unforgivable sinners. He wasn’t sure if Magic Maidens were saints, but Order Keepers wading through Abyss beasts felt like a rising tide compared to corner-hugging schemers who dream of overturning Order and do nothing.

The Eye Orb caught his disbelieving stare and snorted, a little frost on iron.

“We’ve got our ways,” it said, voice like smoke curling under a door. “They just give you what you want to see. You don’t understand society’s shadows at all, kid—too young.”

“Shut it. You’re asking for a beating.”

Lingchen rolled a wooden carving in his palm, the grain like river lines under moonlight. Arrays made him curious; if he could grasp them, he could fight even without transforming. A backup path like a bridge under fog. The Eye Orb buried itself in a book, sulking like a wounded cat because he told it to hush.

“Orb-baby, what’s this thing for? If it’s an array, there should be types, right?”

Lingchen poked a nerve ending. The entire Eye Orb flipped like a coin, and a blue screen flared like a pond at dawn. It showed two big characters: Speechless.

“First you say I need a beating and tell me to shut up. Now you get all cozy and call me Orb-baby. You lot are thick-skinned, turning faces faster than flipping a page.”

“I’m average-looking. My face isn’t worth money. If it were, I wouldn’t be rough on it.”

The Eye Orb shook like a pendulum. It disagreed, a dry leaf of opinion. In certain labs, a face like his gets peeled, filled with special fluid, and made into an adhesive human-skin mask. An ordinary face suits infiltration like fog suits alleys, and it fetches a high price.

“So, Orb-baby, what’s it actually for? And if arrays are useful, can you teach me?”

“This thing…” The Eye Orb glanced at Lingchen, then at the wooden carving, two stones weighing honesty. “I really don’t know. Give me a dozen days to research and enough Magic Stones, and I might crack it.” It felt his stare like a knife on bark. “Arrays are rare. I haven’t seen many.”

It wasn’t lying. Arrays weren’t its main field; its knowledge was a thin branch, not a trunk.

Lingchen stowed the carving, left instructions with Qianchun like notes tied to a kite string. Once his Mana had neutralized most of the Abyssal Aura, he slipped into the night and caught the subway, a steel serpent sliding toward Jiuqiong.

He sparred with the gate guard for a while, words like chess pieces on a rainy board. He slipped through the school gate in the end—which, yes, isn’t exactly right. By the time he reached the dorm, his scent and aura were the same as when he left, a river returning to its bed.

He thought the dorm lights would be out and the nest quiet. Instead, everyone was awake, phones and monitors flashing like fish scales. His eyes prickled.

“Night owls, huh…”

“Oh, Lingchen’s back. Where’d you go?” Ren Changxiao spoke first, steady as a pine on a hill. He was the oldest in the room, pushed by three unreliable roommates into being the dorm leader, and he seemed happy with the badge.

“Moved some things and caught up with an old friend,” Lingchen said, untying the bag like opening a cupboard in winter. “Brought some stuff back. Don’t know if you guys drink… there’s juice and food too.”

Xun Xun slid off his headphones, glanced at the bottles and jars, lights winking like city windows. “Too basic. Next time I’ll take you out for the good stuff. But since you’re so thoughtful, I’ll accept.”

Lingchen remembered he was a rich kid, palate sharp as a knife.

Ren, a northern hulk with a gentle core, surprised them by choosing juice. When Lingchen asked why not alcohol, he laughed with a scar’s warmth. “I got drunk, got dragged into an alley, and got beaten. Never touching booze again.”

Xun Xun and Lingchen grew solemn, like flags lowering at dusk. This guy was not to be provoked. They both quickly checked if they’d crossed him lately.

“What about Brother Wang? What’s he drinking?”

Lingchen pulled open Wang Qipeng’s curtain, and the screen filled his eyes with pale tangle and breath, two bodies in high tide. He shut the curtain softly, not wanting to disturb Brother Wang’s… elegance.

Xun Xun eyed Lingchen’s ghosting and tugged the curtain open again. “What’s the big deal, let me—Whoa. That’s… creative.”

Wang Qipeng lifted his noise-canceling headphones, looked at Xun Xun, looked at Lingchen, then at the bottles like stars on a tray. “Gimme a Coke.”

He took the Coke, drew the curtain, and resumed his appreciation, a monk returning to scripture.

“Brother Wang’s a legend,” Xun Xun breathed, a gust over still water.

“He is, he is,” Lingchen said, amusement like a lantern glow. “To enjoy that without batting an eye and stay steady—model among men. So, what are you doing?”

He glanced at Xun Xun’s screen. Silver shone like frost. “Climbing ranked? Reversed up a dozen stars? You’re still a few steps from Challenger on Ionia.”

Lingchen finished arranging things, climbed into bed, and checked the time. It was already past midnight, the moon a thin blade. Tomorrow morning was the opening ceremony… where again? The university was too big; his mind fogged.

“Do you like woodcarving?”

In the dream, a man asked him that, voice soft as a winter stove. A small knife bit a solid block, curls of wood falling like dry petals. In moments, a mushroom emerged, cap round as a cloud. Little Lingchen reached out with pudgy fingers to pick it up.

“Honestly, Yao’er’s so little, and you’re already teaching him these things.” A pretty woman in an apron set fruit down, her face misted like a lake at dawn. She lifted little Lingchen onto her lap.

“What’s wrong with that? He’ll inherit my half-baked art cells and make them blaze.” The man swung his arms, a child proving stars. The woman covered her mouth and laughed, silver bells in a yard.

“My woodcarving isn’t great,” he puffed, “but I’m really strong in other areas.”

“What areas~?” Her eyes skimmed up and down, teasing like wind through bamboo. He blushed, flustered, dropped the carving and knife, and fled with, “I’m going to the bathroom,” a door closing like a drum.

“Yao’er, don’t be like your dad,” the woman whispered, stroking his hair like cat fur. “Sometimes you can’t be so flashy. You invite flames.”

Little Lingchen grabbed the wooden piece and rolled it, eyes wide like pools. How did a thick log become a lifelike treasure?

“Hey… Lingchen…”

Someone shook his bed like a wave tapping a dock. He opened his eyes, pain like sand in them, flipped his phone, and saw 5:30 glowing cold. Sweat slid down his brow like rain.

“Yeah, Brother Ren? What’s up?”

“Just worried,” Ren said, voice a blanket. “You muttered in your sleep and then went into a brutal scream. Lucky Xun and Wang sleep like stones. Nightmare?”

Lingchen clutched his head, hunting the dream’s edges like fog shapes. He’d seen himself as a child, everything blurred like a rainy window. It felt like an apartment.

“It’s been like this lately,” he said, words slow as coals. “No idea why. It used to be fine. Did I say anything?”

Ren thought, careful as counting seeds. “Dad, Mom… bits I couldn’t catch. Your family didn’t—uh, I don’t mean it that way. You don’t have to answer. Look at me, big fool.”

He almost stomped, then remembered the two still asleep. He lowered his foot and patted his own head, rough bark trying to be silk. He wasn’t good with this; that’s why people called him the big lug.

“It’s fine,” Lingchen said after a breath, snow settling. “I grew up in an orphanage. I’m used to it. People said I had no mom, no dad, but I did fine there—had an older sister, had the director granny. Anyway, I’ll need you guys to watch my back these next years.”

Ren scratched his head and apologized, a stone bending.

On Lingchen’s wrist, the Eye Orb curled around the bracelet like a barnacle. It peeked at the two waking on the beds and chewed his words like tough bread.

He really doesn’t care? That’s probably a lie. This kid carries two little demons: one named Grudge, one named Restless. You can see them since he first transformed, shadows at his heels.

Lingchen skipped going back to sleep. He jogged two laps around the track, breath puffing like steam. After transforming his body’s strong, but the base body is the hard truth. He’ll hit corners where he can’t transform, iron walls in a narrow alley.

He’s new to the magic world, but he’s seen plenty of strong ones. With a flick of fingers, they could grind him to ash like chalk on stone.

Halfway through the run, Xun Xun asked him to bring breakfast, paid with the word “Daddy,” a flag planted in jest. Between guys, friendship’s simple. Today you’re my daddy, tomorrow I’m yours. Whoever brings food is the daddy.

Lingchen set breakfast on the desk, showered off the night like dust, and went with Ren and the rest to the freshman auditorium. There, they would crack open a new university life like a fresh book.

“Ahem. First, introductions… Our college…” The speech droned for two hours, words like warm porridge. Lingchen scrolled his phone, bored clouds drifting. Then a line snapped tight like a bowstring.

“Girls joining the Order Keepers or the Seekers will take an assessment at the start of term. Anyone wanting to be a manager will also register and be tested. Understood?”

The hall stirred, whispers a flock of sparrows. They’d heard the rumor: to join the Order Keepers, you needed to pass the school’s combat test; to join the Seekers, you needed to pass the school’s cultural test.

“Time and place for assessments will be announced later. That’s it for today’s welcome meeting!”

New and old students scattered like leaves in a gust.