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Editor's Notes: Change of plans. Sakuchow, our translator, is tired from traveling, so we can only upload one chapter today.
"I’m sorry, but there isn't an explanation. Explaining feels too much like making excuses, and I’m trying to be as sincere as possible about my thoughts—or rather, my decision." I shook my head, laying my cards on the table.
Just as I’d expected, "sorry" was the only word I had left for her.
"Fair enough. That’s pretty blunt," Tan Han replied. "I guess I'm not the type to keep pestering someone who’s clearly done with me. Still, I should tell you why I approached you in the first place. I didn't expect our talk to go south like this, so just consider this info a parting gift."
As she spoke, she handed over a stack of stapled papers.
"These are photocopies regarding Earthvein Stagnation within the academy. It’s all in there—detailed logs and records. I think once you read it, you’ll understand exactly what this implies."
I stared at the documents in her hand, paralyzed by indecision. I wasn't sure if I should take them.
"Look... let’s make a deal," Tan Han said, tilting her head as she nudged the papers closer to me. "Take the intel, and I promise I won't come around to bother you anymore. Deal?"
"Thank you..."
I finally took the papers. I still didn't know much about the "Earthvein," but based on my experience with its data-collection capabilities, I knew it was vital infrastructure.
"Don't thank me. Since we aren't going to be friends, you should learn not to thank people outside your circle," Tan Han gave me a look that was hard to read. "It’s a small world, Class 14 President. I happen to be the President of Class 1. I have a feeling our paths will cross again."
With that final shot, she turned and walked away without looking back.
I stood there, wrapped in a thick blanket of awkwardness. She already knows I’m the Class 14 President? How? I’d only held the position for a few hours.
After taking a moment to steady my nerves, I sat down in a quiet corner to go through the documents. The encounter had been draining, but there was a silver lining: my clean break with Tan Han was official. The only lingering headache would be future inter-class politics.
Since we were both Class Presidents, contact was inevitable. Class 1, huh? It figured. That was exactly where a straight-A genius belonged.
I pushed the social anxiety aside and forced myself back into a "study" mindset.
The documents Tan Han had given me were incredibly comprehensive. It looked like she’d sourced them from somewhere official. They contained a full map of the academy’s Earthvein network, along with a helpful breakdown of how the system worked.
The primary trait of the Earthvein was its capacity to carry information. Because of this, it acted as a massive reservoir for countless layers of data and history. However, when the flow of Transcendent energy fluctuated, it could cause physical damage to the network.
This led to a phenomenon known as Earthvein Stagnation.
When the veins became clogged, entire sectors would fall into "anomalous states." Energy flow would become erratic, and any device that relied on the Earthveins for data would start giving off ghost signals or total interference.
For example, if my villa suffered from Earthvein Stagnation, casting spells there would become a gamble.
A Fireball might detonate prematurely in someone's face, or a Shield Charm might accidentally trap you inside it. It could even cause alchemy tools to short-circuit.
Fixing it required specialized equipment—usually alchemical conductors—to vent and redirect the pent-up energy.
On the surface, it seemed like a standard maintenance issue. It shouldn't have had anything to do with me, Tan Han, or any other freshman.
But the deeper I read into the documents, the more my heart started to race.
Typically, clearing an Earthvein Stagnation required upperclassmen who had undergone specialized training and possessed high-end professional equipment. However, during that "venting" process, there was room for some extracurricular activities.
Specifically, if you had the right techniques, you could strip away the "residuals" carried within the Earthvein.
These residuals included unencrypted data fragments, lost fragments of the academy’s history, and—most importantly—the collective "muscle memory" of seniors’ training sessions.
Once the Earthvein energy was stripped away, what remained were condensed Transcendent materials.
I didn't care much for the historical trivia, but the raw materials and the condensed energy substances were incredibly valuable. The documents highlighted two things in particular.
The first was the Training Memory. These were pure, objective records of experience, stripped of personal bias or subjective thought. They were essentially the perfect "consumable" for self-improvement.
To put it in gaming terms, they were XP or Skill Books.
Absorbing one was like reliving a memory so vividly it felt like your own experience, yet it didn't mess with your personality or worldview.
Of course, there was a catch: you wouldn't necessarily learn a skill you actually needed, the drop rate was abysmally low, and you still had to put in the physical practice.
Otherwise, it was just like watching a very realistic 5D movie.
The second were the Condensed Transcendent Materials. These were formed from pure energy filtered through the Earthvein "wash."
They were far rarer than naturally occurring or synthetic materials; their unique properties made them invaluable samples for developing new alchemical theories.
In a word: they were expensive. We were talking top-tier, luxury-grade loot.
The report seemed to be fresh off the press. With the influx of new students over the last two days, the academy had been pushing the Earthvein network to its limits.
Normally, the energy flowed in a fixed, stable circuit, making spontaneous stagnation rare.
However, the Witch School had hijacked the Earthveins to power all those flashy special effects for orientation.
By forcing the network to perform way beyond its design specs, they had practically guaranteed a massive buildup of stagnant energy.Even though the three-day orientation wasn't over yet, the signs of "clogging" were appearing all over campus.
But this wasn't an accident—it was a calculated move. The school was squeezing every last drop of utility out of the Earthveins once a year, serving as both a cleanup of the past year's energy and a "trial by fire" for the new class.
The "loot" from this cleanup was intended as a reward for the freshmen. And how was it distributed? Naturally, it went to the class representatives: the Class Presidents.
That meant the selection of a Class President was the first internal competition for every class. And the battle for how much loot each class could secure was the second competition—between the Presidents themselves.
Suddenly, the weight of the "Class President" title felt a lot heavier. I had the resources within reach, but the pressure was suffocating.
I was an "appointee." Ji Niang had hand-picked me without any input or challenge from the rest of the class.
If the other students found out that I was the one holding the keys to their rewards without having earned them through a fight, it would be a PR nightmare.
How was I supposed to lead Class 14 if they were all sharpening their knives behind my back?
Furthermore, I wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of splitting the reward equally among a hundred people.
Even if there was enough to go around, my selfish side—and practical logic—told me it was a bad move.
Tan Han hadn't just given me a gift; she’d handed me a live grenade.
Was this just another way of selling me anxiety? If the final stage was a showdown between Class Presidents, it made sense that Tan Han would know who her competition was.
But it still bothered me. How did she find out?
Surely Ji Niang wasn't such a gossip that she’d be blabbing about her private appointments to everyone on campus. That just didn't seem like her style.