Yi Polai felt a strange certainty—that sense of familiarity wasn't just some vague notion. It was undeniably real.

And he needed to pinpoint exactly what kind of feeling it was distilled from.

What those events would ultimately become—perhaps, maybe—

—he’d only understand when he finally uncovered those faint traces.

Of course. He’d have to dig through old archives to get to the bottom of this.

His family’s library held records on such matters.

Whether he could actually find them was another question. He hadn’t even tried yet. Jumping to conclusions now made no sense.

“There’s one more thing to figure out,” Yi Polai muttered to himself.

He’d also noticed it wasn’t just them who sensed something off about Huor.

Even members of Fire D Class saw Huor as… abnormal.

Through their eyes, gestures, and other subtle cues, many unnatural signs were visible—especially on the faces of D Class’s two leaders.

It was the exact same look he’d seen in his own companions’ eyes. Yi Polai felt certain his suspicion was correct.

The two leaders of Class D were sensing the same thing they were.

One person feeling familiarity was one thing. But many people simultaneously feeling it? That was a mystery.

Could feelings even be identical or different?

Who knew. But he didn’t believe it. He refused to believe feelings could be the same. Coincidence could never become universal truth. Never.

It was like those impossible factors—forcing one barely possible point to erase all impossibility was simply unachievable. What he didn’t believe, he’d never believe. Not ever.

“I need a way into the library archives.”

But what method would work?

Before, he could’ve used his young age as an excuse. Back then, no one really tracked his whereabouts. But now? Things were different.

He wasn’t the head of the Yi Family. In this sprawling clan, he wasn’t the only grandchild. Many others existed at his generation.

Access to the archives was controlled by the family’s senior elders. If they granted him entry, they’d have to grant it to all the younger generation—or face accusations of unfairness. Even fair decisions would be called unfair. That’s just how they operated.

So, to enter the archives, he’d have to rely on his own strength.

To earn something, you needed real capability. Only then would no one accuse you of abusing privilege.

Especially as the Yi Family’s Chief Disciple—he couldn’t afford mistakes before inheriting the title. To avoid errors, he had to watch his words and actions. Speak only what was necessary. Do only what was required.

“Guess it has to be that way,” Yi Polai murmured. Only that method would unlock the archives’ permissions for him. Once access opened, finding that book became possible.

What was this method? Likely a solid plan—the strongest card he could play on his own right now.

Nothing came easy in the family. Though he was the undisputed first heir, that very status weighed heavier on his shoulders.

He had to outwork every peer to prove he deserved the title. Otherwise, it could be stripped away anytime. As the designated heir, he had to prevent that.

Cultivating the War God Mark was never his strongest suit. Talented War God Mark Cultivators were everywhere. Had Yi Polai trained the Mark since childhood, his progress wouldn’t lag behind the other Four Kings. But he’d poured most of his energy into researching the War God Mark itself—that’s why he’d achieved so much in academia. Success and effort always balanced each other. What you gave determined what you gained. The law of equivalent exchange existed everywhere in society. Its very existence made it revered by so many.

Recently, he’d discovered new proof about the War God Mark—his sole research breakthrough. He believed this was the only reason the family would grant him archive access: to delve deeper into his findings. It was the perfect justification.

And within the Yi Family, it was likely the most acceptable reason—one with a high chance of approval.

After all, everyone knew the first heir’s passion was researching the War God Mark. His achievements at his age surpassed what many spent lifetimes chasing. Sometimes talent worked that way. If destiny granted it, you couldn’t refuse it. It was simply yours by birth.

By the time Yi Polai reached home, the sun was setting. He hadn’t asked for a ride. As the Yi Family’s eldest grandson, he was entitled to escorts to and from school—but he’d refused them all. His reason? “Life lies in movement.” He refused to grow old too weak to walk. That wasn’t the future he wanted. So now, he walked home alone after school. Though, to be fair, the other three Four Kings often walked the same route between school and home. He wasn’t truly alone.

Even if he were, he wouldn’t fear it. Years immersed in research had long numbed him to solitude. Only those who endure solitude achieve greatness. Researchers who couldn’t settle into quiet focus remained mediocre forever—learning only what others had already uncovered. That held no appeal. At least, not for Yi Polai.