September 2026

  The first day of sophomore year at Phillips Exeter Dao Academy had nothing to do with classes.

  Everyone knew it. The teachers knew it. The administration knew it. Even the groundskeepers, who spent the morning setting up velvet ropes along the main drive, knew it.

  This was the Parade of the Young Masters, when the scions of the richest families and corporations flaunted their wealth and displayed their status.

  The student body of Exeter split neatly into two halves.

  The first were the talented upper-middle-class strivers, kids who had clawed their way in through entrance exams and scholarship applications, whose parents spent weekends working overtime to pay for tuition. They were the backbone of the academy, the ones who would graduate and become doctors, lawyers, and officers.

  The second half were the young masters. The nepo babies of this world.

  They skipped the entrance exam. They skipped the application. They simply noted the cultivation of their parents and grandparents. Most of them skipped first year entirely, since mortal-level coursework held no relevance for those who intended to study the cultivation arts.

  They showed up in second semester, when the real curriculum began.

  And they showed up in style.

  The entire academy had gathered along the main drive, pressing against the velvet ropes like spectators at a fashion show. The girls had dolled themselves up in short sundresses and carefully applied makeup. The boys wore their sharpest suits, fresh haircuts gleaming with pomade.

  There was no shame in the display. Everyone understood that money translated directly to cultivation. Spirit vein access required fees, fees that multiplied by ten with every realm.

  If you could catch the eye of a young master, if you could charm your way into a courtship, secure an engagement, lock down a wedding, have a child... the alimony alone would cover Gold Core spirit vein fees for the rest of your natural life. Two hundred and forty years of lifespan. Centuries of youth, of health, of living.

  Longevity was just a ring away.

  Vehicle after vehicle descended from the eastern sky. A Lamborghini Immortale touched down first, its sleek black hull trimmed with gold formation lines, emanating the unmistakable pressure of a Tier Three treasure. Gold Core level.

  The crowd erupted into cheers as it landed on the drive, its gull-wing doors rising like the wings of a predatory bird.

  The young master who stepped out was handsome in that generic, wealthy way. Sharp jawline, clear skin, the kind of physique that came from personal trainers and premium spiritual makeup. He waved to the crowd with practiced nonchalance, accepting their adulation as his due.

  "Young Master Park!" someone shouted. "Over here!"

  He smiled, tossed a wink toward a cluster of girls in matching sundresses, and strolled toward the academy gates.

  More vehicles followed. A Ferrari Celestiale in cherry red. A Maserati Spiritus in midnight blue. A Porsche Ascendant that hummed with spiritual energy.

  Each one touched down, disembarked its young master or young mistress, and glided off to the designated parking space.

  The Tier Three treasures drew appreciative cheers. But everyone was waiting for the real prizes.

  The first Tier Four vehicle descended like an immortal stepping down from heaven.

  A Bugatti Eternis, pearl white with formation lines that glowed soft gold, radiating Nascent Soul-level pressure that made the crowd instinctively bow their heads. The spiritual weight of it pressed against their chests, a physical reminder of their inferiority.

  The young master who emerged was the young master of AT&T. He simply walked, and the crowd parted before him like water. No wave. No smile.

  A Pagani Transcendence followed, then another Bugatti. The Tier Four vehicles were fewer, perhaps a dozen in total, but each one commanded absolute attention. These were treasures worth more than most people would earn in their extended lifetimes. Flying fortunes given form and function.

  The crowd cheered. Girls in the stands played their hair and adjusted their dresses, the boys straightened their postures and flip their hair. The young masters and mistresses acknowledged their worship with varying degrees of graciousness.

  And then something unexpected happened.

  A streak of Ferrari red blazed across the sky.

  It wove between the descending luxury vehicles with reckless precision, banking and rolling, leaving a trail of disturbed air in its wake. The crowd gasped, partly at the audacity, partly at the spiritual pressure radiating from the cultivator.

  Gold Core level.

  Unlike the flying treasure cars, which could only line up one by one, waiting their turn, this cultivator flew freely, dancing through the air with wild abandon.

  The red streak dove toward the academy gates, pulling up at the last possible second, bleeding speed with impossible grace.

  It touched down at the very front of the drive, ahead of the Bugattis, ahead of the Paganis, ahead of every young master who had been patiently waiting to make their entrance.

  "We greet the Gold Core Superior!"

  The words erupted from the crowd instinctively, a reflexive acknowledgment of respect. Hundreds of students bowed their heads, a common courtesy instinctively trained since birth.

  The flying sword's glow faded, revealing its form: a La Ferrari Eclipse flying treasure sword, its lines impossibly sleek, its surface gleaming like liquid ruby.

  And standing atop it, one hand casually in his pocket, was Leo Chen.

  He was grinning.

  "You're mistaken," he called out, his voice carrying easily across the silent crowd.

  "I'm just a second-year. Same as the rest of you."

  The silence stretched.

  Then the murmurs exploded.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Leo Chen? The quiet kid? The one who stopped coming to class? Wasn't he a waste? How does he have a lifebound flying sword? How does he have Gold Core pressure? He's fifteen!

  Leo hopped off his Eclipse, which shrank and disappeared into his Dantian. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and surveyed the crowd with obvious satisfaction.

  He looked different. The change was subtle. He was still the same lean, unremarkable teenager he'd been at the start of first semester. But there was something in the way he held himself now. A confidence that had been absent before.

  The posture of a protagonist.

  A path opened in the crowd as students scrambled to get out of his way. Leo strolled through it, still grinning, enjoying every second of the attention.

  He was almost to the gates when a voice stopped him.

  "You."

  Leo turned.

  She was walking toward him with the unhurried grace of someone who had never heard the word 'no'.

  Tall, immaculately dressed in a designer dress that probably cost more than his own sword, her black hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her face was beautiful in that sharp, polished way that spoke of generations of wealth and privilege.

  Kim Yuna. Young mistress of the Samsung family. The real deal.

  She stopped in front of Leo, studying him with open curiosity. Her spiritual sense brushed against his, a casual probe, the kind of thing that would be considered rude between equals but was simply expected from someone of her status.

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  "Your Si," she said. "What is it?"

  Leo's grin widened.

  "About 3,000, last I checked."

  The crowd heard. The crowd reacted.

  Three thousand? That's impossible! What a monster! And he's clearly only fifteen!

  Kim Yuna's expression shifted. The aristocratic detachment cracked, replaced by something far more interested.

  She held out her hand, palm up.

  "Your phone."

  Leo raised an eyebrow but fished his phone from his pocket and handed it over. Kim Yuna's fingers danced across the screen, unlocking it, navigating to his contacts, inputting her number.

  Then she held the phone at arm's length, tilted her head, and snapped a selfie.

  She looked at the result, nodded in satisfaction, and handed the phone back.

  She mimed the universal "call me" gestureand then turned and walked away without another word. The crowd parted for her automatically, still too stunned to do anything but stare.

  Leo looked down at his phone.

  The contact photo showed Kim Yuna smiling with a flirty wink. The name she'd entered was simply "Yuna ??."

  He laughed.

  Sophomore year was off to a good start.

  ---

  Leo knew exactly what he wanted to do.

  He went straight to the Flying Aces club.

  Flying Aces held the same cultural space that football had occupied in his previous life. The professional teams were identical, the same cities, the same rivalries, the same passionate fanbases filling stadiums and arguing in bars. Only the rules had changed.

  In Flying Aces, each team fielded five Flyers mounted on lifebound swords, supported by seven Defenders who held ground positions across the arena.

  The seven defenders were confined to their team's "fort" and forbidden from attacking the enemy's fort directly. Two Gunners operated spiritual flak cannons from fortified bunkers, while five Soldiers provided close-range protection.

  Each player eliminated during a quarter counted as a point. If all seven defenders were eliminated, it would count as a 'touchdown', and flyers would also be eliminated.

  Players wore specially engineered Tier Four armor that protected them from actual harm while tracking simulated 'life or death' status.

  After every quarter, teams were allowed to 'respawn' their 'defeated' players and make substitutions.

  The sport existed to simulate real combat. Its tactics and scenarios were grounded in the battles of the Second World Cultivator War, and the strategies remained relevant for small-scale engagements even today.

  At the professional and collegiate levels, all Flyers were Foundation Establishment cultivators. True Gold Core cultivators were prohibited. The reason had nothing to do with player safety.

  Wealthy teams would inevitably invite ancient Deity Transformation monsters to engrave half-step Tier Six forbidden formations on Nascent Soul level Spiritual Material, and no stadium shielding could reliably contain that kind of power.

  High school competition was more complicated.

  Qi Refining cultivators couldn't form lifebonds with flying swords. The spiritual connection required Foundation Establishment at minimum. So high school arenas compensated with massive formation arrays that covered the entire playing field.

  Students used formation pivots to simulate the effect of a Tier Two lifebound flying sword. This granted high schoolers the ability to fly, albeit with less finesse and responsiveness than a true lifebound weapon.

  Leo couldn't use his La Ferrari Eclipse in high school competitions. The regulations were clear, and his sword would be flagged immediately.

  But his divine sense? That was a different matter entirely.

  Coach Tracy was ecstatic.

  "Chen!" he bellowed, practically dragging Leo into his office. "I heard rumors, but three thousand? Three thousand? Do you understand what that means for our playoff chances this year?"

  Leo understood perfectly. Mike and Kevin explained how important high divine sense was for Flying Aces.

  Coach Tracy paced behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, mind racing through possibilities.

  "We're keeping you as a secret weapon," Coach Tracey decided. "As soon as you make your debut, someone's going to file a complaint."

  "They'll claim you're Foundation Establishment, demand a cultivation audit, and even when you pass, they'll push to ban you as an 'unfair anomaly.' Better to save you for playoffs when it actually matters."

  He wasn't wrong. The regulations existed for good reason.

  Human cultivators didn't establish their foundation before eighteen because doing so genuinely harmed their immortal potential. The body needed time to mature, the meridians needed time to stabilize, and rushing the process left permanent limitations on future advancement.

  Any high schooler who reached Foundation Establishment early to gain an advantage in Flying Aces would be immediately banned from competition. The sport refused to incentivize cutting short your immortal potential for a small short term gain.

  Leo, a Qi Refining cultivator with Foundation Establishment-level spiritual strength, was an anomaly that the rulebook had never anticipated.

  Coach Tracy drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking.

  "Actually," he said slowly, "have you considered practicing with the Yale Flying Aces team?"

  Leo blinked. "Yale?"

  "Their FBS, the highest tier of college Flying Aces, squad. I know some people, I could make an introduction." Coach Tracy shrugged. "Look, training with highschoolers won't push you. You need opponents who can actually challenge that divine sense of yours."

  "And frankly? If you want a collegiate or professional Flying Aces career, the earlier you start your training the better. Yale's program is top-tier. They'd love to get their hands on a talent like you early."

  Leo was shocked. He didn't expect to get exactly what he wanted without asking.

  ---

  The group's plan had shifted after they theorycrafted lifebound treasure smuggling and worked to exploit it fully.

  Their original Gold Core advancement scheme had one critical bottleneck: acquiring half-step Nascent Soul level treasures for the soul press. Such items were almost impossible for ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivators to obtain.

  Unfortunately storage rings couldn't be lifebound, so there was no way to smuggle treasures through that method either.

  But now another option had emerged.

  Once Leo advanced to Foundation Establishment, his Si would triple. If he maxed out his Si in the Qi Refining realm, his divine sense would directly triple to thirty thousand! More than enough to lifebond with a Gold Core level flying sword bearing a forbidden Tier Five formations.

  That combination would grant him Nascent Soul level combat power while still technically being a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

  Normally such equipment would be impossible for someone of his realm to obtain. The cost alone would bankrupt most companies.

  But for NFL players, National Flying Aces League players, it was standard issue.

  Teams spent billions ensuring their stars had every possible advantage. Forbidden formations, auxiliary power sources, enchantments layered so deep that the swords practically thought for themselves.

  Leo just needed to get drafted.

  With Nascent Soul level power, their options in the Azure Profound World would multiply exponentially. Leo could directly flatten the Pond Glazing Sect alone.

  They could kidnap Gold Core formation masters, force them to upgrade their otherworldly demon summoning arrays, and eliminate the witnesses afterward.

  Their plan had just been accelerated by years!

  And reaching Foundation Establishment with thirty thousand Si? Leo wouldn't spend a single day in college.

  He would be the dream prospect. Young enough to retain the brain plasticity and reflexes of a teenager, while wielding the divine sense of an ancient monster. To put it in perspective, the average age of a flyer drafted by the NFL was fifty.

  Scouts would salivate. Owners would empty their vaults. He would go first overall in the draft without question.

  And if he needed more time to develop his skills, he could adjust his schedule.

  He could practice while he 'slept'. The game world provided perfect rest: eight hours of practice in the Azure Profound Continent replaced eight hours of sleep, and Leo woke refreshed either way. That meant eight additional hours of practice every single day.

  Leo would look like a combat genius!

  The Divine Sense Press could afford to slow down a bit. Nascent Soul level power was only a few years away.