The final bell for the morning classes rang, a clear, sharp chime that echoed through the academy halls. A wave of chatter and movement erupted as the students spilled out into the corridors, all heading towards the cafeteria. Amanda gathered her belongings, a tentative smile on her face.
"Ready?" she asked, her voice quiet.
Andrew stepped beside her, falling into step as she moved. "Just about," he said. He glanced at the throng of students, already feeling the subtle pull of attention. He did not want to face it alone. Amanda, with her unassuming presence, offered a welcome buffer. "What do you think of modern history?"
"It was… a lot to take in," she admitted. Her dark eyes, still wide with wonder, darted around the bustling hallway. "So many names, so many battles."
He kept talking, about the lecture, about the strange architecture of Vavilon, about anything that came to mind, a constant stream of low-volume words that created a bubble around them. Girls glanced their way, some outright stared, but the conversation gave them a sense of purpose, a reason to avoid eye contact. When they reached the sprawling cafeteria, a cavernous space filled with the scent of cooked grains and roasted meat, Andrew spotted her instantly.
Lucy sat at a large table near the far wall, surrounded by a small group of older students. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously kept, was a little wild, a few strands escaping her braid. She laughed, a bright, unrestrained sound, at something one of her companions said. Andrew's lips curved into a grin.
"Lucy!" he called out, his voice cutting through the din.
Her head shot up, her blue eyes scanning the room until they landed on him. Her laughter died. A flicker of surprise, then a grin that mirrored his own, spread across her face. She pushed herself up from the bench, a fluid motion that showcased her lithe build.
"Andrew, you little rascal!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying across the tables. She wove through the crowd, heading straight for him.
The cafeteria, a moment before a hubbub of conversation, grew dramatically quieter. Heads turned. Whispers started, then faded into hushed murmurs. Amanda, beside Andrew, stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the approaching figure. Lucy, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, a true powerhouse, was making a beeline for them.
"Look at you," Lucy said, reaching them. She stopped, hands on her hips, a smirk playing on her lips. She looked him over, from his carefully slicked-back hair to his polished boots. "All grown up and going to the academy. I almost didn't recognize you without the dirt on your face."
"You say that every time," Andrew countered, shaking his head. "And I always tell you, some things never change." He gave her a mock bow. "It's good to see you, Lucy."
"You too, Andrew." Her smile softened. She bumped his shoulder playfully, then turned her attention to Amanda. Her gaze lingered on Amanda's wide, fascinated eyes. "And who's this?"
Amanda, still a little stunned, stumbled over her words. "A-Amanda. My name's Amanda."
"Right," Lucy said, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "So, Amanda, how do you know this little tyrant?"
Andrew shot Lucy a look, but Amanda, still processing the surreal encounter, managed to form a question. "How do you know him? You're a Foundation Establishment cultivator. And he's… seven."
Lucy threw her head back and laughed. The clear, bell-like sound resonated through the now-silent cafeteria. Her friends, who had followed her, stood a few paces behind, their expressions a mix of confusion and awe.
"Oh, this one?" Lucy turned to Andrew, ruffling his hair with a playful hand. "This is the kid prodigy. I tutored him a few years already. Taught him everything he knows about qi cultivation. Practically raised him."
A collective gasp rippled through the cafeteria. Andrew saw jaws drop. The older students who had accompanied Lucy now stared at her, then at Andrew, then back at her, their eyes wide with disbelief. The whispers erupted again, this time louder, more frantic.
A woman, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, stepped forward from Lucy's group. Her eyes, sharp and accusatory, narrowed. "A boy? You didn't tell us you were tutoring a boy, Lucy." Her voice, though low, carried a venomous edge. "A male child, no less."
Another echoed her. "All that dedicated time, all those extra merit points you earned. We thought you just had an unparalleled dedication to the academy, a true mentor spirit. A little slut, is what you are."
"This whole time," a third chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain, "we wondered why you pushed so hard for that boy's progression, why you stayed late, why you always had a private lesson planned. Now it makes sense. A male at the cultivation academy. A child male, even better. You had this hidden, didn't you, you conniving bitch?"
Amanda's jaw slackened. The vitriol spewed from the women, a torrent of jealousy and judgment, left her speechless. She glanced at Lucy, who had gone rigid, her face draining of color. Her blue eyes, usually vibrant, now held a haunted, defensive glint. Lucy's companions, all young women, began to murmur among themselves, their faces a mixture of shock and understanding. The whispers grew louder, fueled by the accusations.
Andrew, however, remained calm. He stepped in front of Amanda, shielding her slightly from the harsh glares. He looked at the women, his gaze unwavering. "She is family," he said, his voice quiet but firm. The simple words cut through the rising clamor, silencing the accusers mid-sentence.
The sudden quiet in the cafeteria became almost stifling. The accusers faltered, their anger momentarily eclipsed by the unexpected declaration. Their mouths opened, then closed again. Andrew turned to Lucy, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He leaned in conspiratorially. "You owe me for that one," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.
A blush, bright and undeniable, spread across Lucy's cheeks, reaching the tips of her ears. Her eyes, still wide, met his. The tension in her shoulders eased, a subtle release. The aggressive posture dissolved. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
The air in the cafeteria lightened. The anger and suspicion faded, replaced by a more subdued curiosity. The other Foundation Establishment cultivators exchanged glances, then slowly began to diffuse. The women who had spoken out against Lucy looked away, their outrage dissipated by Andrew's simple statement and Lucy's reaction. The unspoken accusations hung in the air for a moment, then dispersed. Students, realizing the spectacle was over, began to resume their meals and conversations. The hum of the cafeteria returned, a low, comforting background noise.
Lucy led Andrew and Amanda to a vacant table, smaller and quieter than the one she had occupied before. Her remaining companions gave Andrew curious, lingering looks before moving to their own tables. They sat down, the quiet conversation providing a stark contrast to the earlier uproar.
"I didn't expect that," Amanda said, her voice still a little shaky. She picked at her food, her appetite somewhat diminished.
"Neither did I," Lucy admitted, her voice low. "It seems rumors spread faster than qi in this place." She glanced at Andrew, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "Though, 'family' was a nice touch, little tyrant."
Andrew just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "I only spoke the truth." He winked at her.
They ate, the earlier drama fading into the background. Lucy recounted tales of her first weeks at the academy, the challenges of advanced cultivation, and the exasperating habits of some of her classmates. Andrew, in turn, shared amusing anecdotes from his own classes, carefully omitting any details that might raise further eyebrows about his accelerated progress. Amanda, still reeling from the earlier confrontation, listened intently, her initial apprehension slowly replaced by a growing sense of ease. They talked about their classes, their aspirations, their small complaints about the academy food. The meal continued without further interruption.
Afternoon classes began, a new wave of students heading towards various lecture halls and practice rooms. Andrew had no intention of joining them. His mind focused solely on one goal: cultivate, finish his organ forging. He saw no reason to waste time in lectures he already understood. Amanda, however, looked lost, hovering at the crossroads of several hallways.
Lucy caught up to them, a bounce in her step. "What are you two moping about?" Her blue eyes sparkled. "Let's go train."
Amanda's brow furrowed. "Train?" Her glance flickered between Lucy's confident stance and Andrew's determined expression. The word, in this context, felt alien.
"Come on," Lucy urged, already tugging Andrew by the elbow. "We'll show you the ropes."
Andrew pulled free, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know just the right place." He began walking, his pace quick and purposeful. "There's a training room. Best Qi in the academy."
"The premium rooms?" Lucy's eyes widened. "Those cost a merit point an hour! Even for Foundation Establishment cultivators, that's not pocket change."
Andrew merely grinned. "Mine are free. And I can bring four others." During the morning, his female instructor, a stern woman with an air of absolute authority, had explained his privileges. A male in the genius class meant a level of access few students ever attained.
Amanda's mouth dropped open. "A merit point? An hour? Are you sure it's okay?" She made to stop him, her hand reaching for his arm.
He simply took her hand, his fingers warm and firm around hers. "Come on," he said, pulling her along. Her protests died in her throat as he led her down a less-trafficked corridor, past a series of doors marked with intricate seals.
They arrived at a heavy, ornate door. Andrew placed his hand on a glowing crystal beside it. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a spacious room bathed in a soft, ethereal light. The air inside felt vibrant, charged with an almost palpable energy.
"Wow," Amanda breathed, her voice hushed. This was unlike any training room she had ever imagined.
Inside, the natural Qi pulsed, an invisible current that seemed to thrum against her skin. Andrew walked to the center of the room, motioning for them to follow.
"This," he announced, gesturing around the room, "is where we will cultivate." He turned to Amanda. "You remember what the teachers told us about body forging, right?"
Amanda nodded slowly. "Skin, muscles, bones, organs." The sequence felt mechanical, almost abstract, when discussed in a classroom. Here, in this charged atmosphere, it felt profoundly real.
"Most of the new students are going to start working on skin forging during the first year," Lucy explained, settling onto a meditation cushion on the floor. "It takes dedication, constant effort. The academy pushes for a strong skin foundation before moving on." She looked at Andrew, a glint of genuine admiration in her eyes. "But Andrew here, he's a little different."
Andrew picked up a small, polished stone from a nearby table. He demonstrated by holding it in his palm, and a faint, shimmering aura pulsed around his hand. "I finished skin forging years ago. Muscles, too. And bones." He paused, his gaze distant. "I'm on organ forging."
Amanda stared, dumbfounded. He was seven years old. Barely older than a toddler, yet he had already traversed three of the four foundational stages. Her own skin felt like an unyielding barrier; she could barely sense the Qi within her own body, let alone shape it to such an extent.
"Organ forging?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. The magnitude of his achievement settled over her. The academy spoke of genius, but this, this was something else entirely. She had no frame of reference for such accelerated progress. It seemed impossible.