Chapter 2: The Academy’s Troubles

“Hiss—”
A dozen senior students drew in sharp breaths, their faces twisted in astonishment. “Two moves, and the notorious Thunderstorm is crippled!”
“Who… who in the world is this brave soul? He’s too ruthless…”
Even the instructor’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide and dazed. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never believe he’s a mere Brave…”
…
Shadowless was a Seer, one of the three great Seers serving under the Butterfly Queen of the Eastern Wastes—a figure of immense and unmatched power. To assist the Queen and resolve any problems, he was specifically tasked with overseeing every matter within the academy. His authority was nearly absolute.
One of his primary duties was inspection. He had even established a special patrol unit, recruiting students with high cultivation levels—such as Walkers and Lords—to deter all wrongdoing and safeguard a peaceful, worry-free environment for the students.
Besides this, he also managed the Weapons Division. The students here were either passionate about forging weapons or possessed notable talent and potential in this field. Despite the hundreds of billions inhabiting the Primal World, true weapon forgers remained exceedingly rare. Such individuals were collectively known as Artificers.
Precisely because there were so few Artificers, the vast majority of cultivators fought with their fists—suitable weapons for Soldiers, but ill-suited for practitioners of other realms.
This is because a skilled Artificer could forge weapons known as Living Arms.
What set Living Arms apart from ordinary weapons, aside from their superior sharpness and durability, was their greatest feature: they could enable cultivators to unleash far greater power, effectively doubling their combat strength.
For example, a Brave's strength might be fivefold, but when facing a Lord's tenfold might, victory would be impossible due to the vast gap in power. However, if the Brave possessed a Living Arm, he could rely on it during battle to strike with tenfold force, matching the Lord blow for blow.
A single Living Arm could nearly bridge the gulf between realms and combat prowess.
It was clear, then, how vital the Artificers were.

And the authority to cultivate Artificers lay in Shadowless’s hands.
Yet, such power came with responsibility.
The training of an Artificer was not a matter of days or months; it required sustained effort. But if, after several years, there was no notable progress, that was negligence.
Shadowless, therefore, found himself implicated.
He was being reprimanded.
The one chastising him was another white-haired elder, face square and sharply defined as if carved by a blade—his stern countenance exuding authority and an overwhelming aura of command.
“How many years has it been, and not a single qualified Artificer to show for it? What have you been doing, hmm?” He bellowed at Shadowless, beard and hair bristling with rage, spittle flying in his agitation and landing squarely on the Seer’s face. His fists pounded the wooden desk, each thump resounding through the room.
This elder was none other than the Headmaster of Butterfly Academy—the Grand Headmaster!
Though his cultivation was only that of a Walker, inferior to some of his own students, he cared not a whit for Shadowless’s pride as a Seer. A mere Walker, daring to shout at a Seer who could crush him a hundred times over without effort—what gave him such confidence? Was it only the title of Grand Headmaster?
And Shadowless, for his part, showed none of a mighty one’s arrogance, but rather the demeanor of a chastened child, patient and gentle before an elder’s scolding.
In truth, he was fuming inside, but dared not show it.
For the Grand Headmaster, though low in cultivation, had been personally appointed by the Butterfly Queen. He possessed a keen mind, and his reforms had wrought tremendous results for the academy in recent years.
Unlike the other four Wastes, where all six academies of the Eastern Wastes once followed the same model, the Grand Headmaster had, upon taking office, boldly restructured everything. He divided responsibilities clearly, creating the Martial Division for cultivators, the Weapons Division for Artificers, the Elixir Division for healers and alchemists, and so on. These changes brought new vigor to Butterfly Academy, producing batch after batch of outstanding students, strengthening the core and enhancing the Queen’s cohesion.
Such achievements were beyond Shadowless’s own reach, and so he admired and respected the Headmaster. He met the onslaught of furious shouting with a gentle smile, enduring it with unmatched patience—even as his mind drifted calmly across the academy, ever vigilant… yes, ever inspecting.
But this very composure only stoked the Grand Headmaster’s fury. He leapt to his feet, pointing a trembling finger and cursing, “Don’t think you can just wait this out! This time, I tell you: if there’s still no improvement after this intake, I’ll report to Her Majesty and see you harshly punished—stripped of your sight and exiled…”

Shadowless’s heart gave a jolt. He was just about to devise an excuse to escape the storm when his senses suddenly “saw” a commotion at the academy gates, where new students were registering. In an instant, he recognized the culprit—someone he had already been watching.
“The timing of this disturbance couldn’t be better.” Shadowless was delighted, though he dared not show it. He put on a look of anger and gloom, speaking righteously and forcefully: “A grave incident has erupted during the registration of new students outside the academy. I must respond at once. Any delay may reflect poorly, and bring shame upon Her Majesty…”
“Oh? It’s that serious?” At the mention of the Queen’s honor, the Grand Headmaster’s attention shifted. He urged, “Go, quickly—see to it at once.”
“Very well, I’m off.” Shadowless replied cheerfully, his figure flickering and vanishing on the spot.
The Grand Headmaster stared after him, stunned, then broke into a wry chuckle. “The old fox, always playing tricks… Still, this Weapons Division issue truly needs to be addressed. If we can’t produce more Artificers for Her Majesty’s court, my guilt will be grave indeed—I’d be unworthy of her trust…”
…
“What’s going on? What happened?”
As the selection drew to a close, more new students arrived. At first, they noticed nothing amiss. But as they saw a crowd gathering, their curiosity got the better of them, and they edged closer, whispering questions. Once they learned what had happened, they too were stunned. Since ancient times, a Lord fighting a Brave was like an adult striking a child—who had ever seen the child easily defeat the adult?
“Outrageous!”
The scene outside the academy gates was chaos. The instructor, who had thus far ignored the incident, could no longer remain idle. He strode forward, shouting, “To harm one of our students at the very gates of Butterfly Academy—such conduct is despicable! You even attempted murder—truly lawless and depraved…”
“I was forced to defend myself.” Du Gu Bieli stared coldly at the instructor, enunciating every word. “I fought only to protect myself—is that a crime? And you, as an instructor, failed to intervene earlier, and now you twist the facts, slandering me and showing blatant partiality. Why? Is Butterfly Academy truly a den of corruption, where knaves run rampant and reason is trampled underfoot? If so, then I’d rather not come at all!”
His words were measured and powerful, turning the incident into a matter of the academy’s reputation. With his resounding tone and unyielding spirit, he left the instructor speechless and trembling with rage.