A heavy, expectant silence settled over Nuoding Academy, the kind that made even the most energetic students tread softly and speak in hushed tones. The usual laughter and chatter that filled the corridors had faded, replaced by a nervous anticipation that seemed to seep into the very walls. Word had spread quickly—a visitor from Spirit Hall was on his way. For many, Spirit Hall was a distant, almost mythical authority, but for those who understood its power, the thought of an emissary arriving at their humble academy was enough to send a chill down their spines.
When the emissary finally appeared, he seemed to bring winter with him. His silver robes shimmered in the afternoon light, catching the eyes of every onlooker. The fabric was so fine it almost looked like liquid metal, and the intricate embroidery on his sleeves marked him as someone of high rank. The Spirit Hall insignia, a symbol that commanded both respect and fear, gleamed on his chest. He walked with a measured, deliberate pace, his every movement radiating authority. It was as if he carried the weight of judgment itself, and everyone he passed felt it pressing down on them.
His eyes were sharp, cold, and unyielding. As he scanned the faces of the assembled students and teachers, there was a sense that he was not just looking at them, but through them—searching for secrets, for weaknesses, for anything out of place. No one dared to meet his gaze for long. Even the teachers, who usually stood tall and confident, seemed to shrink under his scrutiny. The students, clustered together in small groups, whispered nervously, their voices barely more than a breath.
The emissary stopped in front of Tang San, and the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Tang San felt the weight of the man's gaze, cold and assessing, as if he were a puzzle to be solved or a threat to be neutralized. The emissary's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "So," he began, his voice smooth but utterly devoid of warmth, "I hear there has been a tragedy. Tang Yan, was it? Such a promising talent, gone so soon." He let the words hang in the air, heavy with implication. "Tell me, Tang San, how did it happen?"
Tang San's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. He remembered the Grandmaster's warning: Spirit Hall's attention was dangerous, and any misstep could bring disaster. He drew a shaky breath, letting his shoulders slump as if weighed down by grief. "He was reckless," Tang San replied, his voice soft and trembling. "He tried to absorb a soul ring beyond his level. I tried to stop him, but…" He let his words trail off, his eyes dropping to the ground, as if he couldn't bear to finish the sentence.
The emissary watched him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Tang San could feel the man's eyes boring into him, searching for any sign of a lie. He kept his expression carefully blank, willing himself to appear nothing more than a heartbroken child. At last, the emissary seemed satisfied. "A pity," he said, though his tone was flat, almost dismissive. "Such wasteful ambition. Spirit Hall frowns upon those who overreach." With that, he turned away, his silver robes swirling behind him like a storm cloud. The crowd parted before him, and he strode from the academy, leaving a trail of unease in his wake.
But Tang San was not as helpless as he appeared. Hidden beneath his tunic was a small, intricately crafted spirit tool—one of his own inventions, designed to eavesdrop on conversations from a distance. As the emissary made his way to the edge of the academy grounds, Tang San activated the device, his fingers trembling with anticipation. Through the faint, crackling transmission, he heard the emissary's voice, stripped of all pretense: "Tang Yan is dead. Tang San is no threat unless the boy resurfaces." The words sent a shiver down Tang San's spine, but they also brought a strange sense of relief. Now he understood the true reason for the Grandmaster's caution: Spirit Hall's scrutiny was relentless, and any sign of unusual talent or defiance would draw their ire.
Back in the training grounds, Xiao Wu could sense the tension that hung over the academy like a storm about to break. She watched Tang San from a distance, her eyes narrowed with determination. Without a word, she threw herself into her training, her movements sharper and more precise than ever before. Each kick sliced through the air with a ferocity born of frustration and fear. "They think we're weak," she muttered, sweat beading on her brow. "They think they can intimidate us." Her resolve hardened with every strike, her spirit refusing to be cowed by the threat of Spirit Hall.
The Grandmaster, observing from the shadows, felt old memories stir within him—memories of scorn and ridicule, of being dismissed and belittled by Spirit Hall's elite. For years, he had carried the weight of their contempt, but now, watching his students push themselves to their limits, he felt a spark of hope. I'll prove them wrong, he vowed silently, his ambition rekindled by the sight of these young souls refusing to bow to oppression.
Most of the students at Nuoding Academy remained blissfully unaware of the dangerous game being played around them. To them, Tang Yan was a legend, a symbol of what they could aspire to become. Inspired by his memory, they trained with renewed vigor, their laughter and shouts echoing across the fields. They pushed themselves harder, striving to honor the legacy of the one they believed had fallen in pursuit of greatness. Tang San watched them with a mixture of pride and anxiety. He saw in their determination the seeds of something powerful—a shield that could one day protect them all from the reach of Spirit Hall.
As he pondered the future, the Meme System chimed in with its usual irreverence: "Quest: Keep the lie alive, build an army! Reward: +10 Deception." The message flashed in his mind, a reminder of the delicate balance he had to maintain. Tang San allowed himself a brief, wry smile, but quickly pushed the thought aside. There was no room for distractions now. The stakes were too high, and every decision he made could shape the fate of everyone he cared about.
In the days that followed, the academy settled into a tense routine. The threat of Spirit Hall lingered like a shadow, but beneath the surface, something new was taking root. Tang San, Xiao Wu, and the Grandmaster each carried their own burdens, but together, they formed the nucleus of a resistance—one that would not be easily broken. The students, inspired by the legends of the past and the quiet strength of their leaders, continued to train, unaware that they were being forged into something greater than themselves.
Tang San knew that the road ahead would be fraught with danger, but he also knew that he was not alone. With allies by his side and the memory of Tang Yan guiding him, he steeled himself for the challenges to come. The lie he had told was a fragile shield, but behind it, he was building something real—a force that might one day stand against even the might of Spirit Hall. And as the sun set over Nuoding Academy, casting long shadows across the training grounds, Tang San allowed himself a moment of hope. The future was uncertain, but for the first time, he believed that change was possible.