New Shoots

The light in the college corridor was filtered through the tall stained-glass windows, casting dappled and tranquil shadows on the bluestone slabs.

Lowell stared at the two figures that had suddenly appeared before him, and remained silent for a moment.

The silence was deafening.

Alhaitham and Faruzan.

Both of them possessed the pointed ears characteristic of the Elven race. Alhaitham wore a neatly tailored light green travel outfit, with an ancient-looking longsword hanging at his waist, but his overall demeanor was calm and reserved, making him more like a scholar with profound knowledge than a warrior.

Faruzan, on the other hand, sported her signature turquoise twin ponytails, adorned with "+" shaped hair clips. Her light-colored, fitted dress, designed for ease of movement, bore the obvious signs of travel weariness. Her eyes were bright and lively, carrying the curiosity unique to researchers, as well as a hint of the subtle arrogance of a senior scholar.

"So..." Lowell finally spoke, a hint of barely perceptible helplessness in his voice, "Where did you two come from?"

"The term 'suddenly appearing' is rather impolite," Faruzan, hands on her hips, her voice clear and crisp. "As for me, I've always been passionate about various research projects and spend many years exploring ruins. I haven't had much contact with the world, but I certainly didn't appear out of thin air. Now that there's this academy on the continent that calls itself 'United,' is it not permissible for me to come and take a look?"

Her word choice had a touch of classical Chinese style, and she referred to herself as "senior" naturally and fluently, as if it were a matter of course.

"I abhor pointless conflict and prefer to live in a stable and orderly environment. However, the old order has been broken for too long," Alhaitham replied calmly, his voice steady and rational to the point of being cold.

"Therefore I chose to live in a relatively safe and secluded place. But elves are not a race that can completely isolate themselves from society. The newly established academy of Nod-Krai seems to offer basic safety and tranquility—is it not welcoming to me?"

His words were logically rigorous, and each conclusion had a clear premise, as if he were presenting a rigorous academic paper.

"Welcome, of course you're welcome." Lowell nodded readily. "You two are clearly very learned individuals. Would you be willing to serve as tutors at the Akademiya first? Currently, tutor dormitories are shared by two people..."

Alhaitham nodded slightly. "Acceptable. But hopefully my roommate won't be doing anything noisy late at night. Or, it would be even better if he wasn't in the dorm often." He added, his tone flat, "I need a quiet night's sleep."

Faruzan smiled and tapped her chin lightly with her fingertip, "As for me... I just need a roommate who knows how to respect seniors and is quick and efficient. Maybe they can even help me organize my mountain of ruins notes..."

"Alright," Lowell agreed. "Then, both instructors, please proceed to the Star-Torch Corridor to report to Professor Mo Ning. She is currently taking on many responsibilities, temporarily coordinating all the academy's daily affairs. She has exceptional intelligence, but her emotional intelligence... please be understanding and don't make things difficult for her."

"Of course," Alhaitham replied calmly.

"I know, senior, I know my limits!" Faruzan her hand, her emerald green ponytail swaying gently.

Watching the two walk one after the other into the depths of the corridor, Lowell let out a soft breath.

The world is truly overflowing with talented people.

The Akademiya, east classroom.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the slowly floating dust particles in the air.

A group of young students sat upright, their eyes fixed on the newly arrived elf instructor.

Faruzan stood in front of the podium, her fingertips gently brushing against the cover of an open ancient book.

"I know many of you—especially those who are overconfident in their talent—are often obsessed with so-called 'powerful' and 'dazzling' magic," she began, her voice exceptionally clear in the quiet classroom. "For example, pursuing lethal techniques that deliver a single, decisive blow, or constructing elaborate and ornate defensive barriers. I've also heard of people who like 'Explosion Magic'..."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over the faces below the stage that subtly revealed disapproval, and a barely perceptible smile appeared on her lips.

"But today, I must tell you that much truly crucial knowledge is often hidden within the most basic structures. For example, this—" She pointed to an intricate pattern on an ancient text, composed of countless tiny, nested runes, "This is the core 'stabilizing anchor' structure of an ancient magical barrier. How about it? Don't understand? Feel it's too far removed from your current level? Think magic updates and iterates too quickly, and look down on older magic?"

She closed the book, picked up a piece of chalk, turned around and scribbled a few strokes on the blackboard, drawing a miniature array of runes that was structurally similar but simplified by dozens of times.

"Look, this is the standard circuit used to balance magic output in the 'Basic Defense Spells' you are currently studying. Can you see the connection between them?"

Faruzan tapped the blackboard with her knuckles, making a crisp sound. "The magical efficiency of ancient barriers is more than thirty times that of the barriers you use today. But the fundamental logic that has maintained their existence for thousands of years is similar in some ways to the principle of preventing this little flame in your palm from going out of control!"

A subtle commotion and whispers arose from the audience. Many trainees widened their eyes, their initial indifference gradually replaced by focused attention.

"Therefore, do not aim too high." Faruzan put down the chalk and gently brushed the gray from her hands. "Strengthen your foundation and understand the true meaning of every rune and every flow of magic. Otherwise, even if you are fortunate enough to access more profound knowledge in the future, you will only be building castles in the air." Her tone carried the rigor unique to old-school scholars and an unquestionable authority.

"Now, work in pairs to re-analyze the complete construction process of the 'Basic Defense Spell.' I need to see your precise calculations of energy loss at each node—submit them to me for review before get out of class ends."

The classroom immediately filled with the rustling of pages and hushed discussions. Faruzan looked with satisfaction at the students below, who were now busily working and obediently calling her "Teacher Faruzan," and slowly walked to the window.

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the northwest corner of the Akademiya's library.

Several students, recommended and selected for their early talent in logical deduction and ancient languages, sat before Alhaitham. There was no podium, only a large, long table.

"No specific knowledge will be taught today," Alhaitham said bluntly, his voice as calm and indifferent as ever. "We'll just have a simple classification exercise to assess your logical thinking and basic skills."

He took out several copied fragments of old manuscripts, the contents of which were mixed: there was a simple list of magical materials, incomplete epic records, and excerpts of several seemingly unrelated kingdom decrees.

"Here are several fragments of manuscripts of unknown origin and mixed contents." He spread the papers out on the table. "Your task is to classify them within one hour according to your own reasonable criteria and briefly explain your reasoning. You may use reference books from any area of the library, but discussion among yourselves is prohibited."

The students looked at each other, clearly puzzled by this type of question that had no conventional knowledge framework to follow.

Without offering any explanation, Alhaitham picked up the heavy book he had brought with him, leaned back in the hardwood chair by the window, and began to read, as if everything around him were irrelevant.

Time slipped by quietly. Some students rushed to the history section, some buried themselves in the linguistics classification shelves, and others frowned and pondered over the legal summaries.

An hour later, Alhaitham collected all the answers. The results were varied: some were categorized by material and writing date, some by content theme (such as "battle-related" or "law-related"), and some by inferring the author's identity based on writing style.

He quickly glanced through the papers without judging their correctness. He put down the papers and calmly surveyed the students.

"The purpose of classification is to understand and retrieve information more effectively. But the criteria are not unique," he said slowly, his tone as if stating an objective theorem.

"Dividing by time helps to trace origins; classifying by theme facilitates focused research; distinguishing by author background can reveal writing motivations. You can even build a system based on 'whether it contains specific keywords' or 'the density of information.'"

He casually picked up an answer sheet, which categorized a list of the properties of a certain obscure herb with a decree describing logistical support on an ancient battlefield, reasoning that "both implicitly contain the core constraint of 'resource scarcity'."

Things that appear unrelated may share the same underlying logic. Conversely, things that seem similar may have entirely different driving forces.

"Learning to build your own classification system is more important than memorizing existing knowledge catalogs. This will help you find your own analytical entry point when facing unknown literature or complex situations."

He paused briefly, his gaze lingering on the students' faces for a moment.

"Get out of class dismissed. But remember, as my students, you must master at least twenty languages before graduation."

The students left one after another, looking thoughtful and with expressions of "I'm going to work at 8 am." Alhaitham neatly organized the answer sheets, got up, and put the heavy book back in its place.

Later in the afternoon, in the faculty lounge.

Faruzan, carrying a cup of hot tea fragrant with flowers, moved closer to Alhaitham, who was quietly reading by the window:

"Hey, Alhaitham, isn't your teaching method a bit too dull? The students say your classes are so oppressive they're afraid to even breathe. I believe that appropriate guidance and encouragement are also necessary!"

Alhaitham turned a page, his gaze never leaving the page. "The acquisition of knowledge itself requires tranquility and focus. A noisy atmosphere is not conducive to deep thinking. Moreover, selecting truly suitable candidates for dedicated academic pursuits is one of the responsibilities of a mentor."

"Hmph! That's just sophistry!" Faruzan slammed down her teacup, making a soft thud. "Look at my students! Even though their foundation is still shallow, their enthusiasm for learning is so high!"

"Passion and academic potential are not necessarily correlated," Alhaitham stated the fact calmly, finally glancing at her with his eyes raised.

"Your 'prodigy' attempted to reverse-engineer the core of the ancient barrier using the basic elemental magic formulas yesterday, nearly causing a small-scale magical turbulence. If it weren't for timely intervention, you'd probably be writing an incident report right now."

"That's... that's the spirit of exploration!" Faruzan slightly, but she insisted, "It's far better than your students, all of them silent and taciturn like stone statues!"

Alhaitham closed his book, his tone still indifferent. "At least in my classes, no one will get so emotional that they spill an entire bottle of ink on the museum's ancient books— Faruzan, 'senior'."

Faruzan is about 100 years older than him, so it's not surprising that she calls him "senior".

"You--!"

In the courtyard outside the window, newly planted saplings swayed gently in the rising evening breeze.