"Hello! Is this Yang Yuehan speaking?"
The voice on the other end was sweet and melodic, dripping with charm. "This is the Witch School Admissions Office. Today’s the last day to submit your application, and I noticed you haven’t filled yours out yet. Are you interested in applying to Witch School?"
Her tone was so enticing it almost felt like a spell—like the kind of voice a siren might use to lure someone into the deep end.
Fitting, I suppose, since she was calling from Witch School. The name alone suggested she might actually be a witch.
"Oh, uh, hi!" I stammered, caught off guard as I picked up the call. "Yeah, I haven’t submitted anything yet. My scores… well, they’re just a tiny bit shy of your cutoff."
I pinched my fingers together in the air, trying to show just how small the gap was, forgetting she couldn’t see my little cosmic gesture*. "And, uh, since you already know my name’s Yang Yuehan, you probably also know I’m a guy, right? Isn’t Witch School a girls-only academy?"
"We’re well aware of that," she replied smoothly, her voice unshaken. "But here’s the thing—because you’re a guy, we lower the admission threshold for male applicants. And this call? It means that if you say yes, you’re in. We’d admit you right now."
"What?!" My eyes widened so fast I thought they might pop out of my head.
A girls’ school lowering the bar for guys? Was this some kind of desperate bid to balance the gender ratio? My imagination went into overdrive—visions of stunning girls and sultry witches circling the lone male student like a pack of starving tigers.
Thrilling? Absolutely. Terrifying? Also yes.
And yeah, I’ll admit it—I was into it.
As for my girlfriend… well, that was a whole other mess. She was brilliant, way out of my league, and we hadn’t spoken in days.
The last thing I got from her? A photo dump—her perfect grades and an early acceptance letter to Elf School.
No breakup text, no call—just that smug little flex.
The message was clear: Know your place, Yuehan.
And I did. I wasn’t dumb enough to miss the hint.
Elf School—one of the Big Three elite schools. Untouchable. Way beyond my reach.
Witch School, though? It wasn’t in that top-tier trio, but it was still among the best of the rest. The catch? Its reputation wasn’t exactly spotless.
Back when I was researching schools, I’d skipped over it, assuming it was just some all-girls academy.
Online chatter didn’t help either—people loved to trash-talk it.
And Witch School? They didn’t bother defending themselves. They just kept quietly recruiting.
Now here they were, calling me—a guy who barely scraped by—because they hadn’t filled their quota? Were they that desperate? Apparently desperate enough to snag guys too.
Oh, and there was one more thing. Every year, Witch School had this infamous tradition: they’d straight-up abduct students and force them to enroll. That’s why the rumors were so bad.
You’d think the government—or whatever passed for authority in this world—would step in and shut that down. But no. Nobody dared. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t.
Maybe people here were just used to it. This world had its quirks, and folks had adapted. But me? I wasn’t from here.
I was a transmigrator, and I saw things differently.
These academies weren’t natural. They were outsiders, invaders from beyond this world, setting up their little talent-scouting operations. They cherry-picked the best and brightest, leaving the rest of us to keep the lights on in this strange, broken place.
Let’s take a look at the most famous academies out there—the ones everyone’s heard of.
First up, the Big Three: the top-tier trifecta of elite schools.
Sorcerer School.
The only human-run academy out there—and they were proud of it. They claimed to uphold the wizard’s creed, walking a path to transcendence.
But I knew better.
I’d seen this world’s history unfold, and there was no foundation for something like wizards to even exist. It was as bizarre as a magical realm giving birth to a Xianxia cultivation sect—completely out of place.
San Angel School.
Founded by the angel race, this one was a powerhouse.
Angels had sunk their claws deep into this world, spreading their holy doctrine far and wide. People worshiped them, built temples in their honor, and dreamed of getting into San Angel School to join their ranks. It was a badge of pride to say you had made it there.
Elf School.
A school run by the elven race. It was where my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend, I guess—ended up.
I was jealous, sure, but what could I do? Nothing. Just sit here and stew in my envy.
These three didn’t teach the kind of stuff I remembered from my old life—math, science, or whatever you’d study to land a desk job. No, they were about power. Real power. How to seize it, how to wield it, how to become something more.
That was why they were called transcendental academies—to set them apart from the mundane schools this world used to have.
The weird thing was, this place was oddly peaceful. One unified nation, one common language, no real conflict to speak of.
Even the government was a lightweight—no supernatural police force, no magical army. Why? Because if you didn’t get into one of these academies, you didn’t get power. It was that simple.
The path to transcendence was locked behind their gates.
…
"Hey, you still there?" The voice on the phone snapped me out of my thoughts, tentative, like she was bracing for me to hang up.
"Oh—yeah, yeah, I’m here!" I said quickly. "Uh, just one question. If I say no, is Witch School gonna, you know… send someone to kidnap me and drag me there anyway?" I tossed it out half-joking, testing the waters.
"No, no, we don’t send people to kidnap just anyone," she replied, her tone surprisingly candid. "We only go after the real prodigies—the ones with serious talent. You know, the GOOD STUFF."
I nearly choked on my own spit. Was she even allowed to say that? Just casually admitting they snatched people?
Hold up. Witch School wasn’t even one of the Big Three. How were they getting away with this kind of brazen nonsense? Didn’t the top academies ever step in to slap some sense into them? Sure, people roasted them online, but I’d never heard of anyone actually taking action.
"Hello? You still with me?" Her voice cut in again, a little flustered this time. "Uh, actually, forget what I just said, okay? Thanks. We’re a respectable academy. We recruit through proper channels—no abductions, no shady stuff. So, what do you say? Still interested in joining Witch School?"
"Huh? Oh! Oh, yeah—yes! Sign me up! Definitely!" I blurted out, forcing a grin.
Sure, Witch School’s reputation was a dumpster fire, but it was still one of the best transcendental academies outside the Big Three.
If I passed on this, my options would be grim—some bottom-tier Orc School or one of those no-name diploma mills. No thanks.
Witch School might be a gamble, but it was my ticket out of mediocrity.
Sure, Witch School was a girls’ academy, but getting in was what mattered. It was still a shot at the extraordinary—power, transcendence, all that good stuff.
The path might be different, but the destination was the same.
Besides, I wasn’t just any kid—I was a transmigrator.
Someone who’d crossed worlds. No fancy system or wise old man in a ring had come with the package, but that didn’t matter.
Being a transmigrator gave me this weird, unshakable sense of confidence—like I was meant for something bigger.
My grades weren’t stellar, and my aptitude test had slapped me with a lukewarm general affinity label. Nothing special there. But meditation? That was my ace. My scores leaned hard on three things: meditation, spell theory, and elemental theory. Without those, I’d be toast.
Meditation was the foundation of mental strength around here. Pretty straightforward—close your eyes, strike a pose, clear your mind, and focus.
It was a slow grind, like sanding down a rough edge. Stick with it long enough, and you’d sleep better, feel sharper, and yeah, your mental strength would tick up too. It was the gateway to transcendence. How strong your mind was said a lot about your potential.
And then there was the thing I’d kept under wraps: I’d had Psi-vision since day one. No teacher, no guide—I just figured it out. I didn’t even know how to explain it properly.
Online, people said it was like flipping a switch to see the “hidden world.” The place we lived in? That was the surface world. Psi-vision peeled back the curtain, showing what lay underneath—the inner world.
Ever since I landed here as a baby, freshly transmigrated, I’d seen it. Two versions of reality stacked on top of each other.
It took me years to piece together what it meant, but I got there: I’d unlocked Psi-vision from the transmigration.
Psi-vision was the baseline for getting into a transcendental academy. No Psi-vision by the time finals rolled around? Then it didn’t matter if you aced every test—those schools wouldn’t touch you.
You’d be stuck in a regular college, learning a trade to keep this world humming along.
So yeah, I’d probably be scraping the bottom of the barrel at Witch School.
But I believed in myself. My knack for meditation, my natural Psi-vision—those were my tickets to climbing the ranks on this extraordinary path.
Call it cocky if you want, but if I didn’t have this basic faith in myself, what was the point of chasing transcendence?
I flipped open my application portal, scrolled to the first-choice slot, and punched in “Witch School.”
One click to confirm, and it was done.
“Uh, hey, ma'am?” I said into the phone, catching her before she could hang up. “I only put down Witch School as my pick. You guys better not be messing with me.”
“We’ve got it on our end,” she chirped back, her voice practically sparkling. “Congrats on making the right call! Welcome to Witch School!” Before I could get another word in, the line went dead—like she was scared I’d change my mind.
It all felt like a fever dream. Except there it was, staring back at me from the screen: “Witch School” locked in as my choice.
A second later, the status updated: Admitted.
Holy crap, that was fast. Too fast, actually. Is this a scam?
No turning back now, though.
All I could do was wait for the acceptance letter to show up. Once it did, I’d pack my bags, bolt out the door, and never look back.
For better or worse, Witch School was my future.
BANG!
The door behind me flew open with a thunderous crash, and I didn’t even flinch.
Same old song and dance.“It’s the last damn day!” My dad bellowed, storming in as his silhouette filled the doorway. “You’re planning to just skip the application altogether, huh? I told you to sign up for Demonspawn School—did you do it? Even with your lousy scores, they’d still toss you 50 grand just for enrolling. What the hell are you holding out for? Hurry up and pick something, or I’ll do it for you!”
“The hell I’ll do what you say!” I shot back, slamming my laptop shut. “Why don’t you sign up your precious little golden boy instead? Demonspawn Academy’s a freaking joke, and even if I did get that 50 grand, it’d never see the inside of your wallet. I’m done with this house anyway!”
With the screen off and my password locked tight, they couldn’t snoop into what I’d chosen. Not that I cared if they tried.
“You—! You little—!” My dad jabbed a finger at me, his face red, but he stopped short of grabbing me. He wouldn’t dare. Not with my “history.”
See, when I was a kid, they’d shipped me off to a psych ward. That’s why they’d written me off as the black sheep.
In a world obsessed with pumping out babies, they’d moved on to their “new and improved” model—my younger brother. And now Mom was pregnant again.
Another sibling on the way, boy or girl, who knows? They were building their perfect little family, and I wasn’t part of the plan.
Dad hesitated because he was scared I’d snap. In his mind, I was the “crazy one,” the kid with “congenital mental issues.”
But I knew the truth. I wasn’t unhinged—I was just different. What they called a breakdown was really me wrestling with the side effects of Psi-vision.
Back then, I couldn’t handle it, couldn’t adjust to seeing the world split in two. But I’d figured it out since. I wasn’t sick. I was awake.