I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 141 The Status of Scholars (Bonus Chapter 9 for Monthly Tickets)

After the event ended, Warren left first; his family was having honey-glazed roast chicken that day.

People gradually left the corridor, and the sound of footsteps faded into the distance.

As Richard finished tying his shoelaces and stood up, Coleman emerged from around the corner.

His right hand was wrapped in a wet towel and treated with a cold compress.

The two met in the middle of the corridor and stopped.

Coleman spoke first.

"Can we talk?"

"Can."

Coleman looked at both ends of the corridor to make sure no one else was there.

"Let's go outside, not here."

The two people went out of the back door of the gymnasium and walked along the path on the edge of the playground toward the east side of the campus.

Coleman untied the wet towel from his right hand and flexed his fingers.

The swelling at the knuckles has subsided somewhat, but the bruises are slowly appearing.

"Is your hand alright?" Richard asked.

"Thankfully, not too many bones were broken." Coleman draped a towel over the back of the chair.

"Soft tissue contusion, it will heal in two or three days."

"My name is Coleman," he introduced himself formally.

Richard.

"I know your name." Coleman looked at him with his gray eyes. "The whole school knows."

Richard didn't respond, waiting for the other person to continue.

"The school I attended before was called St. George's Military Academy, in Sheffield."

His gaze fell on his swollen right hand.

"That school is ostensibly a military academy, supplying talent to the army and police system, but in reality..."

He looked up at Richard.

"It is a training institution for hunters."

Richard understood now why, despite the other person's apparent hunter training, no ether could be sensed from him.

"The training at the school follows two systems," Coleman continued.

"The overt system is conventional military training, including physical fitness, tactics, weapons operation, and wilderness survival."

The Dark Side system is a hunter's introductory training program, involving ice water immersion, hyperventilation, muscle spasms, and etheric circuit activation.

"Students will undergo a screening upon enrollment."

Those who pass the screening enter the Dark Side system and receive training as hunters.

Those who fail the screening remain within the official system and follow the general military pathway.

Coleman's voice was flat; the experience had happened several years ago.

"I passed the screening when I enrolled and was admitted to the dark side system."

"Starting at the age of fourteen, I've been waking up at five in the morning every day."

"Fifteen minutes of ice water soaking, three sets of hyperventilation, followed by three hours of combat training."

"The afternoons are for regular military classes, and the evenings are for specialized training in loop activation."

He turned his right hand over so that his palm was facing up.

"In the absence of any special substance, circuit activation requires repeated stimulation in a high-concentration ether environment to force dormant circuits to awaken under stress."

"Some people's loops are activated in the second month, some need a year, and some need two years."

"And some people..."

He clasped his hands together.

"It will never be activated."

Richard had already guessed the ending.

"I spent over two years in St. George," Coleman said, head bowed.

"Over the course of two years, 19 out of the 37 students in the same class successfully activated their circuits."

Of the remaining eighteen people, I was the last to be eliminated.

"Towards the end of the second year, my instructor told me that my circuit structure had a congenital defect."

The key node of the circuit is broken, and it cannot be repaired no matter how much stimulation is applied.

Coleman put his hands back on his knees.

"After being eliminated, the school gave us two options."

One option is to remain within the established military system to complete military preparatory courses and then join the regular army after graduation.

Secondly, they can transfer to a regular school and complete their studies as ordinary students.

"I chose the second one."

"Why?" Richard asked.

Coleman thought for a moment.

"Staying in St. George, watching my classmates who successfully activated the loop continue forward every day, while I can only serve as a common soldier in the army..."

He sighed.

"So you transferred to Greenwood." Richard understood.

"right."

Coleman's gaze returned to Richard.

"After transferring schools, I thought I had completely lost touch with the world behind the curtain."

"St. George's rules are strict: those who are eliminated must not reveal the information behind the veil to anyone."

Violators will be held legally responsible, and in serious cases, their relevant memories may be erased.

Coleman slowed his speech at this point.

"After arriving in Greenwood, I quickly noticed Mr. Hutton."

Richard's eyebrows twitched slightly.

"In St. George's Dark Side system, each class also has a mentor, but we all call him the instructor."

The instructors are responsible for monitoring the progress of circuit activation and providing necessary guidance and protection.

"Although I cannot clearly perceive the ether, I can vaguely sense that Mr. Hutton has something similar to our instructor."

Coleman's judgment surprised Richard.

"You know Mr. Hutton is the mentor on campus."

"Yes," Coleman nodded, "but I don't know who he's guiding."

His gaze lingered on Richard's face for a moment.

Until recently.

"I noticed that when you were doing dumbbell exercises at the fighting club, your breathing rhythm was completely different from that of ordinary people."

"When ordinary people do strength training, their breathing is passive, following the movement."

Exhale when exerting force, inhale when relaxing; the rhythm changes with fatigue levels, becoming more erratic as you get more tired.

"Your breathing is actively controlled from beginning to end. No matter which set you are doing, no matter how tired you are, the rhythm remains the same."

Coleman's observations were extremely accurate.

"Although we practice the Blood Burning Path, we also have some understanding of the Golden Path."

"So when I saw you breathing with that rhythm in the fighting club, I recognized you immediately."

Richard leaned back on the bench, his gaze falling on the bare branches of the elm tree overhead.

"You suggested sparring today," Richard said, turning his gaze from the tree branches. "Just to verify your guess?"

"Yes." Coleman did not deny it.

"If you are a newcomer who has already stepped into the veil... your reaction speed, perception, and even physical strength will be fundamentally different from ordinary people."

Coleman looked down at his swollen right finger joints.

"The result is obvious."

Richard couldn't help but chuckle.

"Aren't you afraid of violating the confidentiality agreement by telling me all this?"

Coleman's expression remained unchanged.

"The agreement stipulates that I cannot reveal the existence of the veil to 'unsuspecting ordinary people'."

"You're not an ordinary person, and you're not unaware of the situation."

"So strictly speaking, I did not violate the agreement."

This person speaks very directly.

Instead of hiding anything or playing dumb, all the cards are laid out face up on the table.

"So..." Coleman asked again, "which path did you take?"

"A scholar," Richard replied.

Revealing which direction you're going isn't a secret that can't be told.

Coleman visibly stiffened upon hearing the word.

"...Do you know how many scholars I met in total during my two years in St. George?"

"How many?"

"Only twice."

Coleman looked at him with a mixture of envy and a hint of jealousy:

"Once it was during the school's annual evaluation, an old professor came from the Imperial University to inspect it."

He was hunched over and leaned on a cane, looking no different from any other old man you'd see on the street.

"But when he walked into the auditorium, all the instructors stood up."

Including our head instructor, a master hunter with twenty years of service, who has killed more evil creatures than we have ever seen a human.

"He was as respectful as a student in front of that old professor."

Coleman's description gave Richard a more intuitive understanding of the power structure behind the scenes.

"And the second time?"

"The second time was the day I was eliminated."

Coleman's right hand was clenched on his knee.

"The person responsible for assessing my circuit condition is an academic."

He used some kind of testing instrument and got the conclusion in about ten minutes.

"Ten minutes."

Coleman didn't look at him, seemingly lost in memories.

"I suffered for more than two years in St. George, soaking in ice water every morning before dawn and being beaten by the instructors until I vomited blood."

"More than two years of effort were negated by this scholar in ten minutes."

He shook his head.

"That scholar's judgment is correct. My circuitry is indeed flawed, and continuing to practice will not yield any results."

"I just..."

He looked at Richard.

"envious."

"I envy you for being able to walk this path."

Richard didn't know what to say.

His starting point was completely different from Coleman's.

Coleman had been working his way up in the hunter reserve system since he was fourteen, putting in nearly three years of hard work, but ultimately had to leave due to insufficient natural talent.

Richard was approached by Mr. Hutton and was guided towards the academic path from the very beginning.

"You now..." Richard hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "Are you completely without options?"

"About the loop?" Coleman shook his head. "That scholar explained it very clearly: it's a congenital fracture, and there's currently no way to repair it."

He stood up, picked up the wet towel draped over the back of the chair, and folded it neatly.

"There's one more question."

Richard looked up.

"Um?"

"Those who are academically inclined should not need to practice these things."

Coleman turned around, his gaze lingering on Richard's shoulders and arms for a moment.

His gray pupils held only pure curiosity.

"In my two years in St. George, I only met those two scholars in total."

"The way they walk makes it look like they can't even lift their own suitcases."

"But no one in the entire St. George system dares to underestimate them."

Coleman chuckled as he finished speaking.

"On the day the old professor made his inspection, the head instructor personally served him tea."

"I still remember that scene."

"A man who can snap a vampire's neck with his bare hands is holding a teacup and doesn't dare to walk fast."

He looked at Richard.

"Logically speaking, people on your path don't need to rely on their fists to settle things."

"And why did you join the fighting club?"

Richard thought about it.

Mr. Hutton's words came to mind, and they were perfect for this situation.

"My mentor once told me something."

"What did you say?"

"Sometimes, scholars also need to use their fists to protect their desks."

Coleman chewed on those words for a moment.

"...Protect the desk?"

"right."

Coleman nodded thoughtfully.

"That sounds interesting."

He didn't press further, probably because he hadn't expected to get a complete answer from Richard in the first place.

Outside the corridor, one by one, the gas lamps in the distance of the playground were lit up.

"The day I left St. George, my instructor saw me off in his office."

He said, "Congratulations on your graduation."

Coleman gave a wry smile.

"Going out into the world to live an ordinary life is the best choice."

"Those who can avoid this path are the lucky ones who were left over by God."

"I couldn't understand why I withdrew from this."

His gaze fell on the direction of the school gate.

"I feel like I've been deprived of something."

"More than two years of training, endurance, and pain were all rendered useless by a ten-minute evaluation."

"During that time, I had the same dream every night."

"I dreamt that the loophole was fixed and I returned to St. George to continue training."

"I was especially happy in my dream."

"But after waking up, there's a half-minute or so when I lie in bed in a daze."

"I don't know whether I should be happy or disappointed."

Coleman put the wet towel back into his pocket.

"Now I understand."

"I should be happy, happy that I won't be on that thick list of victims."

He walked towards the school gate.

See you next semester. Call me anytime if you need to practice.