After evening self-study, Xueji was walking home when a group of people surrounded her.
A trendy, spicy-looking girl took the initiative to speak: “Hey, are you Xueji?”
Xueji felt uneasy being suddenly approached and instinctively glanced at the girl’s companions. Each of them had a unique charm, making it hard to focus. Despite the cool and pleasant early summer night, Xueji only felt a growing warmth in her cheeks.
Shyly, she replied, “Yeah, what’s up?”
The girl grinned. “Xueji, you’re so cute! Want to film a short video with me? It’s super simple.”
Xueji agreed and performed a simple hand dance with the girl in front of the camera. Her delicate movements alone were enough to evoke a protective instinct in viewers.
Unbeknownst to her, Xueji had already gained popularity on Douyin in City A. However, since she was a die-hard Bilibili user and had never even downloaded Douyin, she had no idea.
She quickly forgot about the encounter, more concerned about the cautious atmosphere in her class. Though her classmates still interacted with her, their conversations had become more reserved—likely because of her. It’ll take time to adjust, she thought.
When she got home, she found Ling Xiaoxiao on the sofa, staring coldly at her phone, so absorbed she didn’t even notice Xueji approaching.
Xueji peeked over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Ling Xiaoxiao instantly locked the screen and switched back to her usual carefree demeanor. “Nothing, nothing!”
Xueji puffed her cheeks in mock anger. “Let me see! It is my phone, you know.”
Ling Xiaoxiao smirked. “Your phone, my privacy.” Somehow, Ling Xiaoxiao had become harder to fool.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let her use my phone, Xueji grumbled internally.
After Xueji walked away, Ling Xiaoxiao’s gaze darkened as she looked at the girl who had filmed the video with Xueji. But the dangerous glint vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual bright expression. Only after Xueji retreated to her room did Ling Xiaoxiao reopen a hidden app on the phone.
The interface blended futuristic tech with mystical Taoist motifs—a fusion of modern UI and ancient Bagua designs. Ling Xiaoxiao didn’t want Xueji to see this. She just wanted to stay by her side as she was now.
On the screen was a unique messaging system, with only one contact: Chen Shijie, Commander of City A’s Special Forces Unit.
In the military operations room, Chen Shijie stood alone—his subordinates had been ordered outside for heightened security. This was protocol whenever they received contact from [Vermilion Bird], a codename that demanded absolute secrecy and full cooperation.
The Next Morning
By dawn, the military had fully prepared the school gymnasium. Equipment had been set up overnight, and in the center stood four towering pale-gray crystal monoliths, each guarded by two soldiers.
A black-clad officer stood rigidly beside the platform, scanning the area with unwavering vigilance.
These four A-grade Awakening Stones were priceless. Chen Shijie’s superiors had made it clear: Today’s awakening must proceed without a single mishap.
After strict security checks, Teacher Hu Yan led his students inside.
Hu Yan saluted. “Commander Chen, all of Class 5 is here.”
Chen Shijie nodded. “Understood. Their safety is guaranteed. You may observe, but you’ll need to sign a confidentiality agreement.”
Of course, Hu Yan wouldn’t leave his students. He stayed beside Chen Shijie as the awakening began.
[Attention: Students, please line up in order and proceed to the awakening platform.]
The first four to awaken were Wang Ziyi, Wang Lingkai, Cai Xukun, and Shen Dai.
Shen Dai trembled with excitement as she faced the crystal. If I awaken a strong ability, maybe I won’t be helpless against the beasts—not like during the Southern Calamity.
A soldier instructed, “Place one hand on the stone.”
Yesterday, Hu Yan had explained the process: Awakening Stones channel spiritual energy into the body, unlocking latent potential. In ancient terms, this was called “drawing in Qi.”
As the stone’s energy flowed into her, Shen Dai felt drowsy—the first sign of awakening. Her mind drifted into an endless ocean, waves pulling her under.
Memories of the Southern Calamity resurfaced. Fear gripped her—fear of future disasters, fear of being powerless.
Then, she remembered Xueji’s words from yesterday’s livestream:
“This time, at least, we’re taking the initiative.”
She couldn’t back down. To survive in this era of spiritual resurgence, she had to be stronger. With that resolve, her consciousness snapped back to reality—the crystal now glowing crimson.
The soldier grinned. “Congratulations. You’re the first today to awaken: Pyromancy, B-rank. High combat potential.”
Abilities had tiers. For fire-based powers:
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D-rank: Human lighter.
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C-rank: Living molotov.
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B-rank: Walking artillery.
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A-rank: Tactical nuke.
Shen Dai’s B-rank meant the military would likely recruit her. Overjoyed, she instinctively looked for Xueji—who gave her a thumbs-up. Only then did Shen Dai realize she was still on stage, flushing as she hurried down.
The class exchanged knowing glances, some even eyeing Hu Yan, who pretended to study the ceiling.
Minutes later, the others awakened:
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Wang Lingkai got C-rank Sand Control, his dark circles making him a dead ringer for Gaara. He shouted “Sand Burial!” and the Naruto fans went wild.
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Cai Xukun (aka “Bro Kun”) awakened C-rank Motion Amplification—repeating an action increased its power. High ceiling, but needed warm-up.
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Wang Ziyi unlocked E-rank Door Opening—he could open doors really smoothly. (Didn’t stop his rap dreams.)
Most awakenings were C or D-rank. By the time Xueji’s turn came at noon, she yawned, lazily placed her hand on the stone, and immediately dozed off—the first volunteer nap of the day.
Two students failed to awaken, including Xiao Huohuo, the class genius. He shrugged it off; he’d succeed with or without powers. His resigned smile made Hu Yan’s heart ache.
Then came Ding Zhen’s shocker: A-rank Mist Form—generating and merging with fog. Minimal offense, but top-tier crowd control.
A-ranks were rare, so Ding Zhen stole the spotlight.
Yet Chen Shijie’s eyes stayed on Xueji.
White hair. An aura I can’t read. That indifference to awakening… She reminded him of the mysterious girl in white from the rumors. More importantly, [Vermilion Bird] had personally flagged her as a priority.
Chen Shijie sighed. Since joining the unit, he’d heard endless legends about that codename—the one who saved a city during the Great Calamity, then helped found the Special Forces. Why would someone like that pull strings for a kid?
Still, orders were orders. And even without them, he’d never let a student come to harm.
Xueji’s awakening took abnormally long. If not for the stone’s faint glow, the guards would’ve thought she was just sleeping.
Flickering white light pulsed erratically—something Chen Shijie had never seen. He double-checked the equipment.
Hu Yan noticed the anomaly, but before he could react, Chen Shijie ordered him to evacuate the awakened students.
Once they left, cracks spiderwebbed across the stone.
“Shit! Don’t just stare—stabilize it NOW!” Chen Shijie roared, lunging onto the platform.