GCD Divine Mechanism Academy would finally face its most chaotic day—all because of that transfer student.
The reason everyone went wild over him was simple: people craved something to ignite their blood. Life was already so suffocating. Without moments to lift our spirits, existence would lose all meaning.
We refuse such a dull life. That’s why we desperately seek ways to change it. We cling to even the faintest spark that colors our days. As the saying goes: without passion, life might as well be death.
After transferring to GCD Divine Mechanism Academy, Huor was assigned a dorm room. The academy’s treatment mirrored military standards—most students would join government or military branches later. Only a tiny fraction chose non-government paths.
Cultivating the War God Imprint was no ordinary path. Special schools demanded special privileges—a truth universally acknowledged.
In this system, avoiding certain realities was nearly impossible. It wasn’t about right or wrong. It was survival. The herd mentality, perhaps?
When the impossible becomes possible, even skeptics start believing special status grants special power. Only those who’ve tasted privilege can truly judge it. Yet after tasting it—what remains? Merely the shock of realizing you’ve changed.
Most of us deny our own transformations, fearing others might notice. But society is complex. The War God Mark Cultivation Realm? A labyrinth within a labyrinth.
"Tomorrow… what do I do?"
Huor longed to fight Shu Xingfeng. But the gap in strength was undeniable. His victory over Zhao Meng had been luck—but a win was a win. Now he’d face One of the Four Kings tomorrow.
What comes must be faced. No point wishing otherwise. Just give it your all.
Sometimes he wondered about this power’s origin. In one month, his life had turned upside down. Everything familiar vanished; everything unfamiliar arrived.
One thing haunted Huor longer than the rest: the dream.
Who was that golden-haired girl? And that faint, silver-haired silhouette? Why did their figures loop endlessly in his mind? He’d dismissed dreams as meaningless—until they repeated nightly. No coincidence lasted this long. That golden hair dazzled. That silver hair blazed. Together, they spun through his nights like inevitability.
"People I’ve met before?"
Huor wanted to believe it. But golden and silver hair? Too extraordinary to be ordinary. His memories were clear: no such girls existed in his past. Then what did these dreams mean?
He needed to know. Desperately.
They were fragments from his own mind—blurry, elusive.
*If only there were guidance…*
*If only a single clue would appear…*
Clarity would follow. Not this fog.
"Haaah——"
His thoughts drained him. Weariness crashed over Huor.
"Why so tired today?"
He glanced at the clock—barely 9 PM. Dusk had just fallen, yet sleep hammered his skull.
*Guess I’ll turn in early.*
Probably the fight with Zhao Meng. His body felt strong, but his spirit craved rest.
He collapsed onto the bed, lights still on. Eyes shut. Darkness swallowed him in a single breath.
Pitch black.
Huor opened his eyes—but saw nothing.
[*It’s time to wake up, beloved. The one you once cherished stands before you now. Seize this chance. Mend what was left undone.*]
[*Speak the words trapped in your heart. Of love. Of longing. Of regret. If both stay silent, if confusion lingers… the past can never be reclaimed.*]
"Who are you? Why tell me this?" Huor called into the void.
[*Still no memory?*]
The enigmatic voice echoed.
[*Then the time isn’t ripe…*]
[*When… will you finally awaken?*]
