In this world, there's never been a shortage of people born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Wang Ling was one of them. But his background was something else entirely—it was as if a fighter jet had landed among a pile of silver spoons, utterly disrupting the norms and order of the entire cultivation world.
In a small villa on the eastern outskirts of Songhai City, Mr. and Mrs. Wang were gently rocking a baby stroller, their faces full of love and affection.
"I can't believe how fast our little treasure has grown!"
"I know, right? It's Ling-Ling's birthday today…"
"Did you prepare a gift, honey?"
"Of course!"
"—Here it is!"
"A Chanel-brand flying sword!" Wang Dad announced proudly. "I saved up for half a year to buy this for Ling-Ling. No one in the Wang family has ever reached the Golden Core stage... This sword is the embodiment of my hopes for him!"
In this world where modern science and cultivation are perfectly integrated, cultivation ranks have completely replaced academic degrees as the new standard for measuring a person's cultural level. Unfortunately, the Wang couple had been stuck in the Body Refining stage their whole lives, never even graduating from the prep class.
This Chanel flying sword belonged to a rare Golden Core–level class of spiritual weapons—an item of immense value.
Wang Dad bought it through gritted teeth, fully aware he'd be eating dirt for the next few weeks.
Yet, the infant Wang Ling, still sucking on his pacifier in the stroller, merely glanced at the sword out of the corner of his eye… and immediately pulled a disgusted face.
What an ugly sword. He had never seen such a hideous flying sword in his life.
The most ridiculous part? This man actually put the ugly thing next to his pillow and proudly claimed it was for "warding off evil."
Ward off evil? Seriously?
This was the age of scientific cultivation! Where the heck did this remnant of feudal superstition even come from?
With a completely unimpressed look, Wang Ling extended his tiny hand—barely a quarter the size of Mr. Wang's palm—and snap, broke the hideous sword clean in half.
That year, Wang Ling had just turned one.
After that shocking moment—Wang Ling shattering a Golden Core–level flying sword with his bare hands at age one—his parents immediately filed a complaint with the Bureau of Quality Supervision. They were outraged, convinced they'd been sold a counterfeit sword by a shady merchant.
"There's no way a baby could break a genuine Golden Core flying sword!" they insisted.
Firmly believing they had bought a fake Chanel sword, they didn't question things further.
It wasn't until Wang Ling turned three, when they caught him casually flying around the room on a toy wooden sword, that the truth finally dawned on them.
They hadn't bought a fake sword.
They'd given birth to a fake child!
As cultivators forever stuck in the Body Refining stage—essentially the muggles of the cultivation world—Mr. and Mrs. Wang couldn't, for the life of them, understand how they had produced someone like Wang Ling.
Was it a genetic mutation?
A skipped evolutionary step in the human blueprint?
None of that mattered anymore.
Because deep down, Mr. and Mrs. Wang believed one thing with complete certainty—Wang Ling was a divine gift to the Wang family. He must be the protagonist of some epic novel!
Thanks to their blissful ignorance and complete lack of paranoia, Wang Ling was able to survive from ages 0 to 5—the most vulnerable years of his life—unscathed.
Otherwise, he was pretty sure he would've been carted off to some research institute for dissection long ago. Maybe even featured on a documentary called Science Close-Up.
In fact, from the very moment Wang Ling was born, Wang Dad—who was a web novelist—had already started brainstorming his next big story. Nothing inspired him more than the arrival of his own son!
There were no earth-shattering anomalies or divine omens when Wang Ling was born. No glowing lights or cosmic signs. Just this: his cultivation level grew naturally along with his age. On average, he leveled up every two years—and even he had no idea why.
To keep his energy hidden, Wang Ling had copied an ancient talisman from the old texts and etched it onto his right arm. For years, that single talisman had suppressed his true spiritual energy, allowing him to live in peace.
Now, Wang Ling was sixteen.
High school had come faster than he expected. Determined to keep a low profile, he deliberately avoided applying to elite schools and chose instead a regular public high school: Songhai City, Peiyuan District No. 60 High School.
He arrived on campus wearing nothing more than a plain white shirt and jeans.
Looking around, he was struck by how normal the place was. Besides the weather-worn statue at the front gate and a few sad-looking palm trees, there was nothing remotely remarkable about it.
In contrast, a top-tier school would've had a campus full of spiritual gathering trees and massive spirit arrays buried beneath the foundations to help students maintain focus and cultivate while studying.
But for Wang Ling, those spiritual arrays were useless. His cultivation level was too far above them—they didn't affect him at all. In fact, he could unintentionally disrupt the array's energy just by being nearby.
That's why he chose an ordinary school. Even if the environment was a bit basic, it helped him stay under the radar.
Today was the school's new student orientation—essentially a placement exam day.
Before officially enrolling, each student's abilities would be assessed to determine class placement: Elite, Core, Standard, or Remedial.
Wang Ling stood in front of an LCD screen, looking for his assigned placement.
As always, his strategy was simple: avoid attention. Elite classes were out of the question—they were too high-profile and would increase the risk of exposure. But Remedial classes were too low, and frankly, beneath him.
That left Core and Standard classes as the safest options.
"Excuse me, do you know how to get to Class 1-3?"
A sweet voice suddenly came from behind. Wang Ling paused. He had sensed this girl's spiritual energy the moment she walked through the school gate, but he hadn't expected her to speak to him.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye—a decently pretty girl.
"You're here for orientation too?" she asked, unfazed by his silence. She wore a form-fitting white T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Her long hair flowed behind her, and her skin was pale and smooth.
Wang Ling briefly scanned her with his spiritual sense—this girl was definitely Elite Class material. No way would they be classmates.
But as fate would have it, Wang Ling realized his placement was also for Class 1-3.
Without a word, he simply pointed toward the nearby classroom—Class 1-3 was right there.
Hands in his pockets, he casually strolled off in that direction.
(End of chapter)
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