College doesn’t feel that exhausting—just the food’s a little bleak, like thin porridge under a gray sky.

Xun Xun popped a can open; a faint thread of Mana drifted out, like mist off a cold river. Lingchen Yao, a Dreadwolf etched on his tag like a midnight fang, glanced over. Xun Xun caught the curiosity flickering in his eyes, a firefly in dusk, and handed the can to him.

Caviar—roe from a special fish of the Abyss, black pearls under a drowned moon. I don’t know its proper name, but it tastes pretty great.

Xun Xun patted Lingchen Yao’s shoulder, a steady drumbeat, pushed the can closer, then cracked another with a soft click.

Fish from the Abyss? I’ve heard a few creatures from the Abyss are edible, like rare herbs in a winter slope. But this is my first time seeing it. It can’t be cheap, right? No, I can’t take this. Lingchen Yao shook his head, a reed in a wind.

It’s only one or two Magic Stones, a handful of river pebbles, not that pricey. And I already opened it; I can’t finish. You haven’t had lunch… we’re brothers, like two pines on the same ridge—don’t refuse. Or do you not treat me as a brother?

Pressure pricked Lingchen Yao’s brow first, like a tight helm. He accepted half-heartedly, a boat nudged into current.

Free gifts cost the most, a silk thread that binds like iron.

Taking something this pricey meant paying it back, like balancing scales in moonlight. He knew he couldn’t match that weight, his pockets a dry well.

Shame warmed his chest, a hidden ember; he’d owe favors, shackled like ivy around a pillar.

Eat and you owe; don’t eat and you slight—two cliffs with waves below.

So he chose to eat, a swallow against the tide; since both paths were thorny, why not pick the one with fruit?

It tasted beautiful, words fell short like nets missing silver fish. Maybe his palate was narrow, a small window on a wide sea; others might see it as a simple substitute, a reed among lilies.

He finished, bowl clean as a polished moon. He sat and flicked through his phone—his class group had posted a notice, crisp as a bell: the entry tests for Magic Maidens and Agents, plus registration. The process was simple, straight lines on rice paper. Lingchen Yao settled it in a few taps, like stones placed on a Go board.

Truth be told, that caviar was excellent; he felt a thin rise of Mana inside, a tide climbing one step. Eat and grow stronger—he’d only seen that in novels, those “medicinal meals” like steam drifting from a hidden cauldron.

The test was set for the weekend; the entire school would be the arena, a chessboard under bright lamps. All Agents and Magic Maidens had to be present. Agents in the morning; Magic Maidens after the Agents finished, two tides changing in turn.

The test content would be posted half an hour before, a curtain lifted at dawn. Magic Maidens not joining the Order Keeper selection needed to pick up an Obsidian tag, a dark leaf against the throat.

None of that concerned Lingchen Yao, a man walking a separate path through bamboo shade.

He put the phone down, eyes on Abyss Creature Encyclopedia, a forest of names. After the test, he’d return it, like a borrowed lantern. He opened another book—Basic Magic Chant Manual, a slim scroll with dense ink.

He felt a pinch of frustration first, a knot in his chest. He hadn’t studied it well since bringing it home. Thin as early frost, but packed with substance like seeds. The basics of guiding Mana alone took hours, water taught to find its channel. Even with the Eye Orb’s explanations, Qianchun learned faster than him, her hands swift as swallows.

He snapped photos and sent the pages to Qianchun, light flowing like a stream. Her Magic Stone had shattered like brittle glass, yet she could still use magic—this was what she needed, kindling under damp wood.

Orb, be honest—am I talentless? His voice carried a cloud’s weight before the words.

Average speed, not slow; you’ve got talent, a sprout under soil. Guiding Mana is muscle memory—learn it, shelve it, use it often, and you’ll smooth out like river stones. Spells and abilities are a Magic Maiden’s real edge, the blade under silk.

The Eye Orb paused, a pupil narrowing like dusk.

Even if your guiding is smooth, if you don’t know any spells, you’ll get shredded—no, not “gossamer”—insta-killed, like paper in rain.

Understood. Lingchen Yao dipped his head, a reed bowing.

He flipped to the spells section and buried himself, a mole under loam.

Weekend arrived in a blink, eyelids up, eyelids down. Lingchen Yao pulled on a short-sleeve shirt and sprinted out, footsteps like drums. When he reached the test site, only two minutes remained before the questions were posted; he’d almost been late, a kite snagged on a branch.

Blame that chant manual—he didn’t recognize a single character, stars woven into sky-script. In high school, he’d touched spell-words, single pebbles he could read; together, they were rapids he couldn’t parse.

The line was long, a snake in grass. He stood at the tail and chatted with the Eye Orb, a whisper between lanterns.

I can read my own spells, but I can’t read the book’s script, like fog hiding the bridge.

That’s normal. A Magic Maiden’s spells are given by their Magic Stone or other sources, knowledge poured like rain. You can read the Stone’s glyphs—of course you can, it’s ink meant for your eyes.

The Eye Orb glanced at the Moon Owl standing upfront, a pale feather under noon. He shrank a little, a pearl retracting into shell.

Got it. Lingchen Yao nodded, a pebble settling.

Soon it was his turn. After identity check, he followed the crowd into a pure white room, snow without shadows.

Agents will be assessed here. After the Agents, the Order Keeper exam begins; pass, and you’ll join the reserve, saplings in a guarded grove.

And for those who want to become Agents, this is rare—watch the Maidens here, see their fighting rhythms, the arcs of blades and light. Learn their ways, like studying tides.

The exam has three rounds. Order Keeper demands strength and judgment, steel and wisdom; it’s stern as winter. Three rounds in all… Agents over there, don’t smirk—I can see you’re a Magic Maiden. You’ll have three rounds too, three bells tolling.

The girl who’d chuckled wilted, a petal under rain. If you want decent pay without front-line blood and dust, Seeker and Agent are the best paths, two roads under clear suns. Of course, Seeker demands far more than Agent; anyone with sense isn’t in Jiuqiong, a blunt proverb dropped like a stone.

She pouted, lips a small bow, and muttered, smoke over tea.

Ahem, where was I? Right—three rounds: first strength, then judgment, then combat, blade tested thrice. Those who lose points by accident get a chance—an elimination match, a last ferry over the river.

Any questions? The elder paced on stage, his steps tapping like rain. Spittle flew as he spoke, sparks from a grindstone; Lingchen Yao’s ears felt calloused, a drumhead worn thin. He longed for bed, a quiet lake.

You spoke mostly about Order Keeper—what about Seeker? A voice rose like a crane.

Seeker requirements match Agent, but you must have three perfect scores, and no failed subjects—no cracks in the vase.

Lingchen Yao trembled, willow in wind. Seeker sounded too high, a peak above clouds; such people were scarce at this school, rare cranes over marsh.

Agent exam begins. The proctor’s tone cut like a bell.

Agents are tested on wisdom, judgment, and observation—eyes and mind, string and bow. To enter the reserve, you need enough knowledge of Monsters, plants, minerals, everything that shifts the battlefield. You must track the flow of combat, the tide turning, and support your Magic Maiden with timely calls. First up: Monsters, scales and shadows.

Lingchen Yao opened the test, paper crisp as snow. After half the Abyss Creature Encyclopedia, it wasn’t hard, but some questions had barbed hooks. The Eye Orb tried to whisper hints, a breeze through reeds, but Lingchen Yao refused, jaw set like stone.

Next came minerals and plants—trouble, a bramble patch. He barely knew, so he pressed on, hard-headed as a ram.

Each of the three sections took thirty percent, three wheels on a cart. The last problem was twenty points, one must-answer, one bonus, two gates under a moon.

He staggered out clutching his head, a helm too tight. Those who left early felt like Monsters in disguise, scale and speed. Time ran short, sand draining fast, and he guessed on some. Especially that last ten-point essay—Talk about your understanding of the Abyss—an ocean with no shore.

His temples throbbed, drums in a cave. Let’s go watch the Order Keeper selection…

He slid his exam badge into the frame, a card slipping under lacquer. The moment his front foot crossed the threshold, an Array Pattern bloomed under his soles, petals of geometry. The world spun—whoosh—sky and floor traded places, and he was yanked in, a fish hooked through current.

…

Moon Owl, I’m giving you a day off. Even with magic, you’ll burn out—your wings are fraying. I’ll handle finding those Monsters; leave the hunting to me. The woman crossed a leg, knife-sharp, eyes fixed on the screen like a hawk. She boxed regions and issued commands, keys clacking like rain.

Moon Owl’s brows drew tight, willow leaves pinched; rare anger flickered, a coal under ash.

The Abyss is urgent; I can’t waste time resting, not when her death still chills me. She died in the Abyss. I know its terror, teeth in the dark. And I don’t even know what to do with rest, hands empty as winter fields.

You don’t need to blame yourself. She saved you; you should cherish yourself, a lamp kept lit. Don’t you have anything you want to do? You could spend more time with her little sister, sit by her window like a warm sun.

Moon Owl hesitated, a feather hovering, then shook her head, a leaf falling.

The woman flicked the mouse, a snap like a twig, on the edge of breaking. Ahh—why don’t you get “work and rest together,” balance like day and night! Hoo…

Ahem. Next week is your school’s first Order Keeper reserve test, right?

Mm. Moon Owl’s answer was a drop in a bowl.

Go there. As a mentor, guide those students and teachers—your experience is a lantern. This concerns the future quality of Order Keepers; the Abyss Gate is about to open, hinges groaning. We need more hands. In the days ahead, these kids will face heavier pressure, mountains on young backs.

Her words flowed smooth, like oil on jade. In her heart, she added a whisper: It’s like watching a movie—lighter than brawls, fewer accidents, rain without thunder.

No rebuttal. Go! The command cracked like ice.

Moon Owl nodded; as a mentor, this was her duty, a path in snow.

The woman slumped over the desk, cheek to cool wood. This girl just won’t think of herself… You’re not a savior; you can’t carry every sky. Even a savior can’t carry all.

She stared at the screen, lines like reeds in a marsh, and dialed a number, tone ringing like a bell.

Hey, help me with something. Her voice was honey with steel.

No! You always dump work on me, make me do the heavy lifting—woman! I’ve seen through you like glass; I won’t fall for it again! The reply snapped, sparks on iron.

Alright, alright. One limited-edition Magic Armor Maiden Blu-ray… Her bait dangled, a silver fish.

Two! The counter came quick, claws out.

Deal! The word landed, a seal on lacquer.

Her eyes curved to crescents, a moon over water; a satisfied smile bloomed, peach in spring.

Little one, you can’t resist me. Her thought danced, a cat with a feather.

…

That’s how Moon Owl ended up supervising this selection, the thread tied under starlight.

On the central stage, the teacher laid a hand on a Magic Stone as tall as several people, a mountain of crystal. The entire hall bloomed with dense patterns, vines of light. All Magic Maidens without Obsidian Stone pendants were pulled into the array—whoosh—like leaves drawn into a whirlpool.