The noticeboard stood on a stone wall west of the freshman teaching building, with quite a crowd gathered before it.
Freshmen and parents crowded together, standing on tiptoe to peer inside. Some beamed after reading the notices, while others withdrew with furrowed brows, earning a few curses as the people behind them shoved past.
Zhang Lan and Nan Qiuqiu waited at the edge of the crowd for a while, only approaching once most of those in front had dispersed.
Three sheets of paper were posted on the stone wall, their class lists written in cinnabar ink.
Zhang Lan scanned them from left to right. The first year had three classes in total: Class One, Class Two, and Class Three.
Class One came first, and the first name on its list was "Zhang Lan," followed immediately by "Nan Qiuqiu."
A dozen or so more names followed, none of which he recognized.
The homeroom teacher's name was written at the very top of the list.
"Class One. Homeroom teacher: Zhou Yi."
Zhang Lan stared at those words for a moment.
Zhou Yi.
He was no stranger to that name.
When he had read the original novel in his previous life, he had formed a very poor impression of this teacher.
In her forties, with a red dragon martial soul, a Six-Ring Soul Emperor.
Her teaching methods were crude and heavy-handed. She threatened expulsion at the drop of a hat, keeping her students utterly obedient.
The most criticized part was her training method. All she knew was making students run laps, running them half to death.
Once they finished, she did not care whether they had internal injuries. No medicine, no treatment. They could endure it or not, as they pleased.
Those who could not endure it dropped out. Those who could kept running.
Who knew how many talented children she had ruined through sheer training, leaving even their soul power levels stuck, unable to rise?
She was even worse than Yu Xiaogang.
Yu Xiaogang might have put on grand airs as a theorist despite his mediocre practical skills, but at least he did not deliberately torment his students.
Zhang Lan had never expected to be assigned to Class One.
With his and Nan Qiuqiu's soul power levels, they were more than qualified for any class. One could even say that the first year of Shrek Academy's outer court could not contain them at all.
But the academy had its rules. All incoming freshmen were assigned to classes according to age, while soul power level served only as a reference for assessment, not as a direct deciding factor.
There was nothing wrong with that rule itself, but he had just happened to land in Class One, in Zhou Yi's hands.
Then they could not blame him.
Zhang Lan looked away and stepped back to make room.
Several nearby freshmen moved forward to continue reading the lists. One looked delighted upon finding his name in Class One, probably thinking it was the best class.
Zhang Lan watched that freshman eagerly turn to share the good news with his parents, but said nothing.
"Class One."
Standing beside him, Nan Qiuqiu had also seen the list.
"The homeroom teacher is Zhou Yi."
"Mm."
"You know her?"
"I've heard of her."
Zhang Lan offered no further explanation.
"Let's go."
The two followed the path along the east side of the teaching building toward the dormitories.
After walking a little way, they reached a fork. The left path led to the boys' dormitory, while the right led to the girls' dormitory.
A small grove separated the two buildings. They were not particularly far apart, but not close either.
Zhang Lan stopped and turned to look at Nan Qiuqiu.
"Classes start in four days."
"Make your own arrangements over the next few days and get familiar with the surroundings."
"Find the dining hall, the training grounds, and the library. Visit them all."
"Don't neglect your soul power cultivation, but there's no need to rush either. Just keep it to eight hours a day."
Nan Qiuqiu nodded.
"Got it."
"Come find me if anything happens that you can't handle."
"Mm."
With her pack on her back, Nan Qiuqiu headed down the path on the right. After a few steps, she suddenly stopped and glanced back at Zhang Lan.
Her lips parted as though she wanted to ask something, but after a moment's hesitation, she said nothing. She merely gave a slight nod, then turned and continued on her way.
Zhang Lan watched her enter the girls' dormitory before turning toward the left.
The boys' dormitory was slightly larger than the girls'. Quite a few freshmen were coming and going through the entrance, and some were already moving their luggage in.
He found his room, pushed the door open, tossed his pack onto the desk, and sat down beside the bed.
Outside the window, the little grove cast long shadows in the evening sun. A breeze swept through its depths, rustling the leaves.
Classes started in four days.
Zhou Yi.
Zhang Lan opened his eyes, his gaze settling on the shadows of the trees outside the window, his face expressionless.
He wanted to see just what tricks this Zhou Yi could pull.
The dean of studies' office, in the freshman teaching building.
Clutching two sets of documents, a teacher hurried down the corridor, his rushed footsteps producing a string of rapid taps against the floor.
He pushed open the office door, panting, having even forgotten to knock.
Inside the office, a man dressed in white sat behind a broad desk.
He was in his forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a small, neatly trimmed tuft of beard on his chin.
He looked refined and scholarly, but his brow carried a stern authority even without anger.
Du Weilun, dean of studies for the outer court's Martial Soul Department.
"What is it? Why the rush?"
Du Weilun raised his head, frowning slightly.
This sort of flustered behavior was what he disliked most.
"Dean, we've got monsters!"
Monsters?
Du Weilun's frown deepened.
What monsters? Were soul beasts attacking?
The teacher hurried to the desk, covering three steps in two, and handed over the documents.
Du Weilun took them and casually opened the first page.
Then his eyebrows shot up.
Twelve years old. Soul power level: forty-three.
Twelve years old. Soul power level: fifty.
Du Weilun's gaze froze on that line.
He stared for a full five seconds, confirming he had not misread it, then looked up at the teacher before lowering his head to read it again.
Nan Qiuqiu. Twelve years old. Four-Ring Soul Ancestor. Martial soul: rouge dragon.
Recommendation letter source: Dragon City, Heaven Dou Empire.
He knew of the rouge dragon.
It was the inherited martial soul of Dragon City's Earth Dragon Sect. Its strength was respectable, and its annihilation attribute was impressive even among mutated martial souls.
"It seems the Earth Dragon Sect has produced a genius."
Du Weilun sighed in admiration.
Then he turned to the second page.
Zhang Lan. Twelve years old. Five-Ring Soul King. Martial soul: Star of Eden.
Recommendation letter source: Shrek City resident. No recommendation letter required.
Star of Eden.
What kind of martial soul was that?
Du Weilun searched his memory, but nothing came to mind.
A local resident of Shrek City, without a recommendation letter. That meant at least one of his parents was from Shrek City, or he himself had lived in the city long enough.
Yet after all his years teaching in the outer court, he knew every prominent Soul Master family in Shrek City. He had never heard of any family with a child named Zhang Lan.
Du Weilun fell silent for a moment, then placed the documents on the desk, tapping his fingers lightly against its surface.
"A twelve-year-old Soul Ancestor and a twelve-year-old Soul King..."
He repeated the words quietly.
His voice carried surprise, along with a trace of something complicated that was difficult to name.
Over his many years teaching at Shrek, he had seen far too many geniuses.
But a twelve-year-old Soul Ancestor was as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns, even in the history of the continent's foremost academy.
And a twelve-year-old Soul King had not appeared in ten thousand years.
"Dean."
The teacher could not wait to speak.
"Although Zhang Lan and Nan Qiuqiu are only twelve, their cultivation already surpasses that of third-year and even fourth-year students."
"Do you think... we should transfer them to the third or fourth year?"
Du Weilun did not answer immediately.
He leaned back in his chair, tapping the desk intermittently with his fingers, his gaze lingering on the documents for a long time.
"Which class have they been assigned to?"
He asked.
"Freshman Class One."
The teacher paused, then added another sentence, a subtle undertone in his voice.
"Zhou Yi's class."
Du Weilun's brow immediately furrowed into three deep lines.
Zhou Yi.
That name gave him something of a headache.
The entire outer court knew this woman's temperament.
Strict, harsh, and unfeeling.
Students being scolded to tears in her lessons was an everyday occurrence, and being punished with laps until they vomited was nothing unusual either.
Even more frightening was her habit of threatening students with expulsion at the slightest provocation-and she followed through on her word.
The elimination rate in her classes consistently remained above one-third.
Yet at the same time, the students she trained were also the best.
Nearly a quarter of the students from her classes ultimately entered the inner court, far exceeding the average of other classes.
Those results left everyone angry at her teaching methods, yet afraid to speak out.
There was no other reason.
Her husband was the Soul Tool Department's chief teacher and deputy dean, a Level 8 Soul Engineer.
A Level 8 Soul Engineer was a rare treasure even at Shrek Academy.
Du Weilun rubbed his temples.
A twelve-year-old Soul Ancestor and a twelve-year-old Soul King, both supremely gifted, were bound to harbor some pride.
If their temperaments were a little more wild and unruly, once they fell into Zhou Yi's hands...
He dared not follow that thought any further.
"Let's leave it at that for now."
Du Weilun stood up and picked up the documents from the desk.
"I'll report this to the dean and discuss what we should do."
The teacher nodded.
"All right. I'll take my leave, then."
He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.
Du Weilun stood by the window, watching the students coming and going across the campus outside, and sighed softly.
A twelve-year-old Soul Ancestor and a Soul King.
Whether this would prove a blessing or a calamity was still hard to say.
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