The Cultivation Cheater

March 1st, 9992, Yulan Calendar.

It has been nearly a month since the Ernst Institute opened, and the five of us in Dorm 1987 have gradually adapted to the rhythm here. Classes in the morning, free cultivation in the afternoon, dinner together at dusk, and chatting in the courtyard at night—for someone like me who lived through the 996 grind in my past life, this is nothing short of a heavenly existence.

The only problem is that Linley is too driven.

"Did Fourth Brother head to the back mountain again?" I asked while getting up this morning, looking at Linley's empty bed.

"He left before dawn," Reynolds said with a yawn. "Is this guy even human? He sleeps so little every day."

I smiled and didn't say anything.

Linley's diligence is something that was already established in the original story. Morning exercise, classes in the morning, magic and sculpture practice in the back mountain in the afternoon, and meditation at night. A normal person would have collapsed long ago under this intensity, but he has stubbornly persisted for over a dozen years.

"Everyone up, get up!" Yale's voice came from the courtyard. "I specifically asked around about the Fire-style class today—it's a beautiful teacher!"

Reynolds' eyes lit up, and he sprang from his bed instantly.

George dressed slowly and glanced at me. "Third Brother, aren't you excited?"

"I'm in the Fire-style department, so of course I'm going today," I said. "But you guys, why are you Wind and Water students joining in on the fun?"

"Do we need a reason to join the fun?" Yale said righteously.

Ten minutes later, the five of us marched toward the classroom in a grand procession.

The curriculum at the Ernst Institute is very flexible; you can attend if you want, and you don't have to if you don't. But the first-year Fire-style classroom was exceptionally lively today—not just because of the rumored beautiful teacher, but also because the legendary top genius, Dixie, would be auditing the class today.

By the time we arrived, more than half the seats were already taken. Yale and Reynolds grabbed seats in the back row by the window, George sat down next to them, Linley chose an empty seat near the front, and I sat down beside him.

"Nervous?" I asked Linley.

Linley shook his head. "I'm just here to listen to the lecture."

I smiled. That's just how Linley's personality is—indifferent to everything, only becoming exceptionally focused when cultivating.

At eight o'clock sharp, a silver-haired woman walked into the classroom.

The room went silent instantly.

Because on the cuffs of the silver-haired woman's magic robe were seven golden threads embroidered—a Level 7 Mage!

"Hello everyone, my name is Alison, and I will be responsible for your Fire-style courses for the coming year," the silver-haired woman said, her voice cold and clear. "For the first lesson today, I want to understand your current levels. Is there anyone willing to come up and demonstrate?"

The classroom was deathly silent.

It had only been a month since school started; few could even fully cast a Level 1 spell. Who would dare to embarrass themselves in front of a Level 7 Mage?

"I'll do it."

I stood up.

Linley turned to look at me, his eyes showing some surprise.

I walked to the front of the classroom, stood still, and took a deep breath.

The Fallen Heart Flame within my body trembled slightly, and a warm sensation flowed from my heart to my right hand. I raised my hand and whispered the incantation—Level 1 Fire-style spell, Fireball.

A fist-sized ball of flame condensed in my palm.

A normal fireball should be orange-red, but the color of my flame was a bit pale, with edges that were even somewhat transparent. Teacher Alison stared at the flame, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Interesting," she said softly. "Continue."

I threw the fireball toward the test target in the corner of the classroom. With a "bang," it exploded, and flames splattered everywhere. The magic sensor on the test target lit up with a row of numbers—Temperature: 870 degrees.

A gasp of surprise echoed through the classroom.

The normal temperature of a Level 1 fireball is around 500 degrees; mine was nearly double that.

"Your fireball's temperature is higher than normal," Alison said, looking at me with a flicker of interest in her eyes.

"It might be talent," I answered honestly.

Alison nodded and didn't press further.

But I knew clearly in my heart that this was the Fallen Heart Flame. After this exotic flame merged into my body, the temperature of any Fire-style magic I cast was over thirty percent higher than normal.

After class, the five of us went to the cafeteria to eat. Reynolds chattered non-stop along the way: "Third Brother, you were too fierce! 870 degrees! I saw the faces of those Fire-style students turn green!"

"Keep it low-key, keep it low-key," I said, waving my hand.

"Low-key my foot!" Yale slammed the table. "Our Dorm 1987 has made a name for itself today! Fourth Brother, you're a dual-element super-genius, and Third Brother, you're a Fire-style super-genius who's this monstrous—I feel like I'm walking on air!"

George shook his head with a smile. "Second Brother, that's enough."

"What Second Brother? Call me Second Elder Brother!"

The five of us burst into laughter.

At dusk, I went to the back mountain of the institute alone.

The Ernst Institute covers a vast area, and the back mountain stretches for dozens of miles. I stopped in a clearing in the woods, sat cross-legged, and began to meditate.

The Fallen Heart Flame within me lay dormant, like a docile young beast. I could sense it pulsing slowly; with every pulse, a wisp of warm energy flowed into my limbs and bones.

This is the most heaven-defying ability of the Fallen Heart Flame—automatic cultivation.

There was no need for deliberate guidance or meditative sitting; it produced heart fire within the body twenty-four hours a day without pause, tempering battle qi—or rather, in this world, tempering magic power.

I closed my eyes and entered a meditative state. In the dantian within my chest, the fiery red magic power was slowly increasing at a speed visible to the naked eye. This speed... was nearly twice as fast as when I had first transmigrated.

No wonder it's called a cultivation cheat, I thought to myself.

At this rate, I might not even need ten years to reach a Level 6 Magician. If I combined this with the rewards from the check-in system, five years, or even three, was entirely possible.

"Hm?"

I suddenly sensed movement not far away.

Opening my eyes, I saw Linley walking out from the woods with Bebe perched on his shoulder.

"Fourth brother?" I was somewhat surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Cultivating." Linley walked over and sat down. "It's quiet here."

I nodded, not saying anything more.

Linley sat cross-legged and quickly entered a meditative state. Bebe jumped down from his shoulder, lay on a nearby rock, and stared at me with its dark, bead-like eyes.

"Little guy, what are you looking at?" I smiled at it.

Bebe tilted its head and ignored me.

I didn't mind and continued my own cultivation.

Night fell, and moonlight spilled down through the leaves. In the clearing in the woods, two people cultivated separately, while a little Shadow Mouse dozed off nearby, occasionally letting out a squeak or two.

Late at night, I returned to the dormitory alone. Yale and Reynolds were already asleep, and a faint light glowed from George's bed; he was likely reading.

[Ding—Detected that the host has established a relationship of trust with the original protagonist.]

[Hidden condition triggered. Do you wish to check in?]

The system's voice rang out suddenly.

I was stunned for a moment, then silently recited in my heart: Check in.

[Check-in successful.]

[Obtained reward: Heart Flame Resonance—Can briefly stir the fire of emotions within others, causing their emotional fluctuations to intensify. The effect is significant against those with lower mental power than the host, and weakened against those with higher mental power.]

I: "..."

What is this? A weakened version of the Fallen Heart Flame's "psychological warfare"?

Thinking about it carefully, this ability was indeed useful in combat—the greater the enemy's emotional fluctuations, the easier it was for them to make mistakes. But in daily life...

"Third brother, what are you smiling about?" George's voice came from the side.

"Nothing." I put away my smile. "Go to sleep."

"Mm."

The dormitory fell silent.