Ch. 128 - Signing the Pact

"Wait! Ma'am! I have a question—is this mandatory?"

After a brief, heavy silence, a voice finally piped up with an objection. The idea of going completely separated from the outside world was unacceptable for many students.

Most of the girls had already discovered that their personal phones were effectively bricks when it came to outside communication.

After the initial wave of anxiety, most had accepted it as a grim reality—it was common knowledge, after all, that entering a School of Transcendence meant leaving your old life behind.

But hope dies hard. Once the first "brave soul" spoke up, the restless energy in the room began to simmer.

"I wasn't asking for your input," Ji Niang said, her gaze locking onto the girl. "I was informing you of the requirement."

The sheer, soul-crushing pressure radiating from her was palpable. The girl's knees buckled, and she collapsed back into her seat, leaving her neighbor to scramble and steady her with a terrified look.

"If you chose the Witch School, you chose to follow its rules," Ji Niang continued, her voice light and airy, though the threat was clear. "This Pact is simply to ensure your conduct remains professional. We can’t have anyone running their mouth to the public. Trust me, if you leak Academy business, 'restricted behavior' will be the least of your problems."

She smiled—a pleasant, chilling expression—and produced a thick stack of parchment. These weren't standard sheets of paper; they were heavy, yellowed sheepskin scrolls. The official Academy Pacts.

"Pass these back. One per person," she instructed. "Oh, and I noticed most of you didn't bring a pen. That’s a habit you’ll need to break immediately. In a School of Transcendence, your memory is your greatest asset, but a pen is your best insurance. Get yourselves some notebooks."

She divided the stack and began the distribution. "If you don't have a pen, come up and borrow one from me. Otherwise, share with your neighbors."

Sitting in the front row, I was the first to receive a scroll.

As for a pen... I was prepared. After the chaos of yesterday's research report, I realized my gear was lacking, so I'd stocked up. I even had a few spare notebooks tucked away in my storage thigh-strap, just in case.

I passed the stack back and unrolled my parchment. I knew I had to sign it, but I wasn't about to go in blind. I wanted to see exactly what kind of "one-sided deal" I was getting into.

The terms were standard for a high-security institution, if a bit draconian. For someone like me—quiet, cautious, and not prone to gossiping—the restrictions didn't actually change much. I wasn't the type to go viral with school secrets anyway.

I signed my name with a quick, firm stroke. The moment the ink dried, the Pact burst into a flash of grey flame, incinerating instantly without leaving so much as a speck of ash.

The flare caught the attention of everyone in the room. Most of the girls were still squinting at the fine print, trying to process the legalities, so seeing someone finish before they’d even read the first paragraph caused a wave of hushed whispers.

I took a breath, ignoring the stares, and nudged Hong Chenyi. "Need a pen? I’ve got a spare."

"Oh! Yes, please. Thanks, Yuehan," she whispered.

Seeing me sign so decisively gave her the push she needed. It’s a classic case of social proof—once the first person jumps, the rest of the herd usually follows.

A second flash of magical fire signaled that Hong Chenyi had officially joined the ranks.

Slowly, the others began to step up, borrowing pens and scribbling their names. Ji Niang looked on with visible approval.

These girls were being sensible, which made her job easier.

One by one, more flares of light flickered across the hall. Even the ones who were still hesitant eventually bit the bullet and signed.

Ji Niang seemed pleased with the efficiency. At least no "hero" had jumped up to start a riot or stir the pot. If a rebel had appeared, I have no doubt she would have made an example out of them right then and there.

The minutes ticked by as the scrolls were collected. My pen had vanished somewhere into the back rows, passed from hand to hand like a communal relic, and the small stash of pens Ji Niang brought had long since been depleted.

Finally, under Ji Niang’s cold, expectant gaze, the last student scribbled her name.

"Excellent. Everyone has signed," Ji Niang said, her voice echoing through the high-ceilinged room. "The efficiency is exactly what I expected. You’re all such cooperative children. Now, let’s move on to the next item. You all received one of these during registration, right?"

She tapped the Earthvein podium, and a high-resolution image flashed onto the massive screen behind her.

Even with the personal data blurred out, the distinctive layout was unmistakable: it was a Student ID.

This wasn't just a piece of plastic; it was a sophisticated conduit for Earthvein energy.

Once linked to your phone, it acted as a portal to the Academy’s network, allowing you to monitor your stats, mana levels, and academic standing in real-time.

Strictly speaking, this was the first true "handshake" between a student and the Academy's operating system.

Linking the ID isn't something a freshman can do alone—it requires an authorized bypass.

Bai Yu had handled mine the day I arrived, but most of these girls were still holding unactivated "bricks."

"This Student ID is your lifeline," Ji Niang explained. "It’s your proof of existence within the School of Transcendence. Once bound to your soul-signature, you’ll be able to access the full Academy interface via your devices."

She leaned against the podium, her eyes scanning the rows. "You all brought them, right? I sent a mandatory reminder to the group chat yesterday. This meeting is short; I’d hate to think someone failed such a simple request."

A chorus of "Yes, Ma'am" rippled through the room as girls fumbled with their bags, though I spotted a few students in the middle rows looking pale and avoiding eye contact.

Clearly, they’d forgotten.

"For those who brought them, I’ll handle the binding now. For those who didn't... find me during my office hours, or better yet, find a senior to help you. Assuming you can find one willing to do you a favor."

Ji Niang stepped down from the platform. While she technically had the power to mass-bind every ID in the room with a single wave of her hand, she chose the manual route.

As an advisor, she wanted to see their faces. A spreadsheet and a photo didn't tell her half as much as a five-second face-to-face interaction.

She was looking for talent. While her primary focus was still on me, she wasn't against scouting for other "little geniuses" hiding in the crowd.

As she moved through the rows, the room began to hum with excitement.

Once a student was "linked," they immediately dove into their phones, gasping and whispering as they saw their personal data reflected in the Academy’s sleek UI.

The chatter grew into a dull roar—the raw, unbridled energy of teenagers discovering a new world.

Ji Niang let them have their moment. She knew the honeymoon phase wouldn't last, and she waited until the conversation turned from "Look at my mana capacity!" to meaningless gossip before she intervened.

She completed the circuit of the room in record time and returned to the front.

"Quiet," she said. It wasn't a shout, but the authority in her voice acted like a physical weight, pressing the chatter down until the room was pin-drop silent.

"There isn't much left on the agenda. Next: your schedules. Some of you may have found them already, but most of you probably haven't looked. They are live on the Academy system now. Find them, screenshot them, save them. I don't want to hear that you missed your first lecture because you 'didn't know where to go.'"

A hand shot up in the middle of the room. "Um, Ma'am? What about textbooks? When do we get our reading list?"

"Textbooks?" Ji Niang gave a dry, amused chuckle. "You think the School of Transcendence works like a community college? We don't use 'case studies' and 'standardized manuals.' There are no textbooks here. Your instructors will demonstrate live, using the Earthvein displays behind me. Every teacher has a style as unique as their magic."

She paused to let that sink in. "Prepare your pens and multiple notebooks. If you reach the end of the semester and can't explain what you've learned because you didn't take notes, that’s on you."

She surveyed the room one last time. "Any other questions? If not, we’ll move to our final announcement."

The silence held.

"Very well. Then it’s time to officially introduce your Class President. I think many of you may have already had the pleasure of meeting her in the chat."

Comments