Kamila Noble Academy’s residential zones were split into Areas A, B, C, and D—a rigid hierarchy laid bare on the map.

Area A housed the fewest students, yet held the highest status and finest resources.

Only imperial princes and princesses of the Camila Empire lived there, or heirs of ducal houses.

Area B belonged to children of marquises and earls.

Areas C and D were for viscounts, barons, or nobodies without titles.

C was tolerable. D sprawled widest, lowest in rank, farthest from campus.

Fairness? Equality? Hah. Don’t be naive. Absolute fairness didn’t exist.

Your status decided your place. To climb meant seizing opportunities—catching the eye of the powerful, currying favor.

Wasn’t that why Leyang’s parents sent him here?

If he could latch onto imperial elites, the Nebis Family might rise again!

But Leyang scoffed at the idea. Groveling to spoiled brats? He’d rather be put out of his misery.

His past-life enemies would laugh themselves to death if they knew.

All he lacked was time. Given enough, he’d rebuild the Nebis Territory alone.

In this martial world, no one could fathom what he’d become.

Minutes later, Leyang led four others straight to Area C.

He’d glanced at the complex map only a few times—never checking again.

*Could this Nebis heir really have an uncanny memory?*

For Leyang, it wasn’t perfect recall… but close enough.

“We’ll split up to find empty rooms,” Leyang said flatly, holding registration forms. “Meet back here later.”

“Uncle, won’t you stay with us?” Lindeberg Yarl asked, puzzled.

“I prefer quiet. I’ll find a secluded spot. But you can visit anytime.”

Leyang waved him off. He needed solitude for cultivation. The twins had attendants anyway.

He headed alone toward a small forest in C’s southwest corner.

Far from campus? No problem. The run would build stamina.

The spot was perfectly isolated—a man-made stream nearby, distant from other dorms.

Ideal for training undisturbed. With wards, he’d sense any intruder.

Only flaw: the crumbling cottage. The Academy clearly hadn’t maintained it—moss choked its walls.

*No help coming. Time to get my hands dirty.*

Leyang didn’t need luxury. Shelter from wind and rain sufficed.

Nearby trees could provide lumber. But first—he lacked tools.

Inside the ancient cottage, dust coated every surface.

*How many years abandoned?* Leyang coughed as his finger stirred a thick cloud from a table.

The air turned gritty, hard to breathe.

“Guess a deep clean is unavoidable.”

He sighed, channeling magic. Dust swirled violently, then vanished out the windows.

The cottage looked less derelict now—almost dignified.

“Magic can only do so much. Now for manual labor… First, submit this form.”

He scribbled “C-33” on the registration sheet.

At the academy gate, Leyang handed the form to Ivan Myers.

“Done already? Let me see…” Ivan’s eyes widened at the address. “Why’d you pick that forest cottage?”

“It’s peaceful. Is that a problem?” Leyang tilted his head.

“It’s… not quite right,” Ivan muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Not right?”

“Just… be careful.” Ivan sighed heavily. “Since you’re set on it.”

“May I borrow tools? The roof leaks. I’ll repair it.”

“You know how to repair houses?” Ivan stared at the eight-year-old.

“A little.”

“What do you need?”

“Three planks. A hammer. Nails. A saw…”