"Everyone, listen up. Only three months left till the entrance exams."
Richard Freeman’s eyes moved slowly across the classroom.
"It’s time to make your decision—liberal arts or martial studies. If you choose martial studies, get me the 30,000 fee within seven days."
As soon as he finished, the classroom burst into noise.
At the back row, Alex Harrison stared out the window, his face clouded with worry.
“Thirty thousand...”
He sighed, heart pounding.
He trained harder than most, had decent talent too—his blood-qi levels were among the top in class.
But that much money? To him, it was impossible.
Even seven days grinding nonstop wouldn't make a dent.
After school, he still knocked on the office door.
“Sir… can I pay the fee a little later?”
His head lowered, voice dry.
Richard looked up, his heart sinking.
Alex wasn’t lazy, far from it. He worked harder than most and had real potential—ranked tenth in class.
But this was a regular class. In years past, only the top three had any real chance at making it into a martial academy.
Even if Alex somehow paid the fee, it might all go to waste.
For a family like his, thirty thousand was no joke.
His parents died in a beast tide when he was three. Since then, his uncle, Matthew Harrison, took him in.
Matthew’s life was average at best, already struggling to support his own two kids in martial training.
Most families could barely afford one kid training in the martial path—he was supporting three.
Richard still couldn’t understand how they managed.
“Alex… it’s not that I don’t want to help. Rules are rules. I can’t make an exception.”
He weighed his words carefully.
After a pause, he added, “Honestly, you don’t have to rely on the academy. Martial halls are another option…”
Even he didn’t buy that.
Everyone knew—getting into a martial academy meant access to the best training, the best resources.
Compared to that, martial halls were a candle under the sun.
Alex didn’t say much, just nodded. “I understand. Thanks, sir.”
Then he turned and walked out.
Richard watched his back disappear down the hall and let out a deep sigh.
...
At dusk, Alex stood quietly by the school gate, gaze lost in the distance.
Eighteen years. That’s how long since he crossed into this world.
So different from the life he once knew.
Three centuries ago, a single star seed changed everything.
Martial arts returned. The world changed.
And with it came the beasts and foreign races.
If not for those martial powerhouses holding the frontlines, humanity would’ve been wiped out long ago.
“Alex, what are you staring at? Hurry up, training time!”
The shout brought him back.
Ethan Blake stood at the gym entrance, waving. As always, full of energy.
Alex let out a bitter smile.
That thirty grand sat on him like a mountain.
Once, he dreamed of becoming strong, standing at the top.
Now, reality had torn that dream to pieces.
“Coming!” he shouted back.Shaking off the messy thoughts in his head, Alex Harrison strode toward the gym.
Since he couldn’t change the situation, he might as well focus on what he could control—make every damn minute count.
…
Night had fallen. Stars quietly filled the sky.
Inside the gym, the lights still burned bright. Practitioners' shouts echoed through the hall.
Sweat shimmered under the glare, proof of their obsession with martial arts. Training on the field was in full swing—sweat pouring like rain.
Alex and Ethan Blake found a quiet corner to spar.
"Bang!"
Fists collided.
"Ow!"
Ethan staggered back, shaking his hand, his face twisted in pain.
"Shit, Alex, your Iron Mountain Fist is brutal! Don’t tell me you’ve hit the Subtle stage already?"
"Couple days ago," Alex said flatly.
Martial techniques had five levels—Novice, Skilled, Subtle, Mastery, and Perfection. Every leap forward took hard grinding.
"Seriously? You’re insane!"
Ethan gave a big thumbs-up, admiration in his eyes.
The Iron Mountain Fist was standard curriculum. They’d started learning it together, and while Ethan had just reached Skilled, Alex had already gone a level deeper.
"Bet no one in class can match you with this technique.”
Alex ignored the flattery. “You done resting? Let’s keep going.”
"Damn, it's already eight. I’m not made of iron like you. My stomach’s about to eat itself!”
Ethan was full of complaints. He'd been wanting to leave since five, but Alex kept dragging him back in.
“Go eat, then. Come back after.”
“Screw that, I’m done for today…”
“Alright,” Alex didn’t push.
Ethan suddenly leaned in, looking all secretive.
“You ever heard of the underground ring?”
Alex froze for a beat.
Of course he had—illegal fight matches where martial artists brawled it out. Big prize money for the winner.
But those matches were bloody. The audience could even place bets.
“You thinking of joining?”
Alex’s voice tightened.
He’d thought about it. That thirty thousand enrollment fee weighed on him like a mountain. But he gave up the idea just as fast.
The fighters there were seasoned grunts or beast-hunters—tough folks with real killing experience. Even if their cultivation wasn’t high, they were monsters in a real fight. Students stepping in were basically throwing their lives away.
“Hell no,” Ethan waved it off. “I’d wet myself in there. I just wanna see what real fighters look like up close. You in?”
Alex went silent for a moment. “Let me think.”
“Cool, I'm heading out.”
Alex stood watching as Ethan walked off, blankly staring for a bit, then turned back to his Iron Mountain Fist practice.
Time ticked by. One by one, students left the gym.
Soon, the vast place was emptied. Only Alex remained, soaked in sweat, still hammering through the last round of his routine.
Late into the night, he finally showered, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the school grounds.
Streets were empty. Streetlights stretched his shadow long behind him.
He looked up at the moon, mind turning circles over that thirty thousand silver. No matter how he thought it through, there was still no damn answer.