The morning sky was a perfect lie.
Sunlight bathed Liberty High in gold, banners flapped gently, and the air smelled of spirit blossoms and discipline.
It was the kind of morning made for heroic speeches and righteous duels.
Too bad Class V had no intention of playing along.
On the west side of the Academy's main training field, Class A stood in perfect formation. Uniforms crisp, weapons polished, expressions full of smug, self-assured calm.
They were the Academy's elites—sons and daughters of sect elders, corporation tycoons, and influential noble clans. And they were beautiful. Everything about them screamed chosen.
On the east side?
Chaos.
Zhou Chen leaned lazily against a rusted flagpole while his students… argued.
Carlos was shadowboxing the air.
Zeke was trying to turn his boba straw into a qi sword.
Ember, the flame girl, was sitting on the grass, casually burning ants.
Lira Moonfall stood off to the side like a ghost, her gaze locked on Class A's formation with unsettling stillness.
A loudspeaker crackled overhead.
"This is a sanctioned inter-class exhibition match between Class A and Class V."
A brief silence.
Even the sky seemed to pause.
Zhou Chen pushed off the pole, cracked his neck, and walked into the field.
"Class A," he called. "The Golden Children of Liberty High."
He smiled, but there was nothing warm about it.
"You've been told you're the future. That your cultivation paths are perfect. That you can't lose."
He raised one hand.
"Let's test that."
The crowd buzzed. Teachers watching from the upper towers exchanged nervous glances. Some of them already began writing disciplinary reports in advance.
From Class A, a girl stepped forward.
Rachel Vaughn.
Blonde. Glowing. Wrapped in spiritual purity. Her sword hummed with holy qi.
"Still bitter, Zhou?" she called, her voice as sharp as a blade's edge.
"You should've stayed expelled."
Zhou chuckled.
"You should've stayed faithful."
A murmur rippled across the crowd.
Rachel's eyes flashed.
[System Alert: Emotional Connection Identified – Rachel Vaughn: Former Lover. Current Rival. Emotional Polarity: -92%. Threat Level: Extreme.]
[Bonus Objective: Emotionally destabilize Rachel Vaughn in public.]
[Reward: Forbidden Memory Shard x1 | Intimacy Reversal Path Unlocked]
Zhou's grin widened. "You'll never admit it, will you?"
Rachel raised her sword. "You're not worth remembering."
Zhou raised a finger. "You're shaking."
From the sidelines, Ember laughed loudly.
"Teacher, can I fight her?"
Carlos stepped in. "No, I wanna punch the holy outta her."
Zhou waved a hand lazily. "Settle it with blood. First to kneel loses. No rules. No complaints."
The match began.
And Class A was not ready.
The classroom held its breath.
Ethan stood there, hand still in the air after swatting away the magical fireball with a single finger. The air shimmered around him, the lingering heat evaporating like steam off a predator's back.
A pin could've dropped and everyone would've heard it.
Professor Becklin adjusted her glasses with trembling fingers. "That… that was advanced defensive magic. You haven't even been assigned a magic affinity yet."
Ethan smiled, slow and predatory. "Guess I skipped the tutorial."
Someone gasped. Several students exchanged glances. Even Amelia looked shaken.
"But… but you're Class V," muttered Brandon, the golden boy. "You're not supposed to—"
Ethan turned toward him, his gaze like a guillotine. "Class doesn't define me, Brandon. But I might just redefine class."
The class erupted in whispers. Someone at the back muttered, "Is he for real?"
Professor Becklin cleared her throat. "Mr. Moore, this is your first day. Please don't dismantle the hierarchy on your first morning."
Ethan raised both hands, mock surrender. "Fine, fine. No revolutions before lunch."
He turned to head toward his seat—and saw it. A figure by the window. Pale, ghostlike. Watching him with interest.
It wasn't a student.
It wasn't even alive.
Ethan's smile faded.
He stared at it for a long second. The figure didn't move, only raised one hand… and made a gesture.
A circle. A triangle. A line.
The ancient symbol of the Void Cult.
He blinked.
Gone.
A chill crept down his spine.
"You okay, dude?" asked Jordan, the boy next to him. "You look like you saw a ghost."
Ethan sat slowly, expression tightening. "Yeah. A ghost from the plot that's not supposed to happen until Volume Three."
He opened his notebook. But he wasn't writing notes.
He was drawing that symbol again and again.
Class V? That was yesterday's news.
Now the real story was starting.
And Ethan? He wasn't just a transmigrator anymore.
He was being hunted.
By something… outside the book.
Ethan's pencil scratched across the page, carving the symbol with obsessive precision. He wasn't just doodling — he was remembering.
In his past life, he'd read Chronicles of the American Cultivation School three times. He knew this symbol didn't appear until book six, chapter one-hundred-thirteen. And even then, it was described as a forgotten myth, never physically seen.
So why was it staring at him from the window on his first day?
Suddenly, a message box appeared in the corner of his vision.
> [Hidden Plotline Triggered: "Whispers from the Void"]
Consequence: Timeline Shift Activated
Note: You are now a variable.
"Great," Ethan muttered, closing the book. "Even the system's breaking the fourth wall."
"Mr. Moore," Professor Becklin's voice cut through, "perhaps you'd like to share with the class what you find so fascinating?"
Ethan stood, holding the notebook up for everyone to see. "Just taking notes, Professor. About how reality is optional and timelines are more like... suggestions."
Laughter rippled. But Amelia was staring at the drawing. Her expression shifted. Not shock. Recognition.
After class, as the others filed out, she approached.
"You've seen it too?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan gave her a measured look. "What do you know?"
"My mother used to draw that when she had her... episodes," Amelia said, eyes haunted. "Before she was institutionalized. She said it was from before the first cultivation era. She called it the 'mark of return.'"
Ethan's heart skipped.
"Where is she now?"
"Gone," Amelia said, stepping back. "Vanished two years ago. But not before warning me: If you see the mark, the real story has begun."
Ethan's fingers tightened around the notebook.
Real story? He thought he was just here to mess with arrogant protagonists and steal their golden finger rewards. But this... this was bigger.
Much bigger.
He closed the book and walked toward the hallway, where sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows depicting various cultivation legends.
But as he stepped through the light, his reflection didn't follow.
It stayed behind — staring back at him.
Grinning.
And then it whispered, only to him.
"Rewrite the ending."