Night had fallen by the time Ben strolled back toward his tiny hut at the edge of Holy Spirit Village. The stars twinkled faintly overhead, their presence barely noticeable over the hum of spirit power still gently swirling around him like a warm fog.
His Nexus Core pulsed in his chest—an ember of soft red light—his Martial Soul still active.
He yawned, stretched his arms, and flopped backward into a loose bed of hay. "Ooooh yeah. That's the stuff."
It had been almost five hours since he first activated his Martial Soul that morning. No cultivation manual could've prepared him for what he was experiencing—his core was literally soaking up spirit power on its own like a magical Roomba, quietly cleaning up ambient energy.
He felt it: a slow but steady stream of power drawn into the center of his being. His spirit power hadn't risen noticeably—yet—but something was building. A charge. A pressure.
It came at a cost, though.
A dull throb started pulsing behind his eyes, and his thoughts were beginning to scatter like spilled marbles. "Oof. That's… new."
Apparently, keeping his Martial Soul constantly active wasn't without side effects. It didn't take soul power to maintain it—but it drained his mental energy, what some scholars referred to as spiritual strength. And Ben, being six, had the spiritual strength of a very tired potato.
"So if I turn it off, the passive absorption stops… and if I keep it on, I turn into mush."
It was a conundrum.
Ben stared at the wooden beams above his head and muttered, "Well, I didn't stop running just because I threw up once. I won't stop cultivating just because I get a little migraine."
His left eye twitched.
"…right?"
If he could train muscles through sheer stubbornness, then surely he could do the same for his brain. Mental fatigue was just weakness leaving the mind. Or maybe a sign of mild brain trauma. Either way, he was all in.
"Alright corey boy," he murmured to the glowing gem in his chest. "Let's do this. Passive grind mode: activated."
He grinned, then promptly passed out in the hay.
The next morning, Ben shuffled out of his hut, groggy and yawning, with the faint red glow of his Martial Soul still active on his chest.
At the village plaza, Su Yuntao stood waiting beside a simple wooden cart loaded with paperwork and a few stamped scrolls. "You're late."
Ben waved lazily, his head swaying slightly. "I was cultivating."
Su Yuntao narrowed his eyes, noting the active Martial Soul. "You… kept it on? All night?"
Ben nodded with a sleepy smile.
"Why?"
Ben shrugged. "I'm a masochist. I like the pain."
Su Yuntao physically recoiled.
It was not an exaggeration to say that he leaned back as if he'd just been splashed with chamber pot water. With a face like he was holding back a gag, he reluctantly reached into his bag and held out the parchment scroll—his Martial Soul Awakening Certificate—between two fingers like it was covered in snot.
"Here," he muttered. "Don't talk to me."
Ben took the scroll with a happy hum and tucked it away. "You're a real one, Tao Tao."
"Never call me that again."
Later that day, Ben stood at the edge of the village with a small travel sack slung over his shoulder. Grandpa Jack stood beside him, beaming.
"Nuoding City isn't far," Jack said, clapping a hand on Ben's back. "We'll make it there before sunset."
Ben nodded, though he still swayed slightly from his lack of sleep.
Grandpa Jack, bless his old heart, didn't question it. In his mind, Ben was just a hardworking genius. He didn't know his dear boy was sleep-deprived and slowly roasting his frontal lobe like a microwave potato.
The journey to Nuoding Academy was uneventful, save for one moment when a squirrel tried to mug them and got stared into submission.
And then—finally—the city walls came into view.
Nuoding.
It wasn't a large city by any means, but to someone who'd grown up in a village with five houses and a goat named Lin Lin, it was practically a metropolis. Stone walls, iron gates, tiled rooftops, and banners fluttering in the breeze. Beyond the main road stood Nuoding Academy, nestled at the north end of the city.
Ben stared up at the front gates.
A shiver of anticipation crept down his spine.
Work-study student? Sure.
Low spirit power? No problem.
Undying grind? Always.
He cracked his knuckles, core still softly pulsing beneath his shirt.
Time to make some trouble.