He slowly grew accustomed to the life of a student, stepping out through the morning dew each day and returning to the temple on the evening breeze.
The Thousand Character Classic had gone from an incomprehensible heavenly scripture to something he could read several pages of. If one reading did not come smoothly, he read it ten times; if ten readings did not come smoothly, he read it a hundred times.
He gained a hazy understanding of the neatly arranged ink characters and could grasp the simpler principles in the text.
As far as learning went, he did reasonably well among the five- and six-year-old beginners.
He was neither a genius who understood everything at a hint nor someone who sank to the bottom of the class. He spoke little, caused no trouble, and quietly sat at the very back every day.
Ordinary and unremarkable, he blended into the crowd.
Jin Si was perfectly satisfied with that.
For a half-flood dragon who had entered school halfway through, barely keeping pace with the young pupils was already an enormous blessing.
Sometimes he pondered things alone. The greatest obstacle preventing Demonic Beasts from amounting to much was their limited intelligence, which fell far short of humans' from birth.
Seen in that light, those Demonic Beasts who stole lessons from rooftops or listened outside windows were truly remarkable.
Another evening came, and school let out. The pupils walked out in twos and threes, chatting about the day's lessons and the snacks sold on the streets.
Jin Si trailed behind as usual, his cloth bag slung over his shoulder, neither hurrying nor dawdling.
Over time, his classmates gradually noticed the little Daoist boy's habits. He seemed to intensely dislike having anyone stand behind him. Whenever someone did, he repeatedly glanced back, his stare sending