Xiao Lin went to the swordsmanship hall at two o’clock, and by six, his four hours of training had raised his XP to 300. The increase depended heavily on strict standards of force and strength when swinging the sword. The slightest sloppiness was not tolerated. There was no doubt that continuously swinging the sword consumed a lot of physical energy. A pleasant surprise for Xiao Lin was that he felt less strain in his sword practice after increasing his physical fitness and physique.
To some extent, it actually proved Xiao Lin’s suspicion that many of the academy’s courses were actually complementary to each other. For example, the efficiency of his swordsmanship practice increased after his physical fitness improved. He might not necessarily have gained better training results if he simply set aside all other courses and invested completely in swordsmanship.
The short weekend ended quickly, and once nightfall came, the freshmen could only scan the posts on the academy’s intranet, since they were not allowed to leave the dormitory. For many freshmen, it was a way for them to pass the time.
Some people shared their experiences in the previous week’s lessons, such as comparing the relative ease of different courses and which classes had better teachers. Everyone soon found out that the difficulties were actually rather similar.
In the first week of the course, the teachers in all the classes did not actually teach anything too substantial. Whether they took Basic Swordsmanship or Basic Saber Technique, the instructors merely asked them to repeat the largely non-technical swinging and hacking movements. Some people could not help but have some doubts; if that was the extent of the course, would it not be more convenient to train by themselves? Why was there a need for the teacher to be present?
There were also many who complained that the academy’s system was too harsh. For example, being late was the one rule that received the most complaints. According to the freshman student code, 50 redemption points was to be deducted for every instance of late arrival. Those who passed the admissions test had redemption points, but not much, and for many who were used to sleeping late, getting up early was a Herculean task.
Most of them thought that being late for one or two occasions was a non-issue, or perhaps the tutors might let them off if they begged for mercy for being late. Many had the mindset of getting lucky and escaping punishment if and when they were late. That seemed to be the case, especially when the teacher simply kept quiet, despite their tardiness.
That evening, all the freshmen received their weekly attendance records from the Central Computer, after which the entire dormitory building erupted with wailing. Those who had a record of being late received penalty slips, all at the same time. 50 redemption points were deducted for each late arrival, and several had their points deducted so badly that their scores were in the negative. They then received a warning from the student council and their credits could be used as collateral on account of the fact that it was their first offence. However, should the redemption points be deducted to zero a second time, their memories would be erased and they would be sent back to Earth.
Amidst the sorrow was joy as well. Most of the freshmen who went to class on time and never left early received another prompt at the exact same time—they had been given a weekly reward for full attendance: 50 redemption points!
The received redemption points was not that high a number, but they stood to obtain 200 redemption points for a full month’s attendance. That was a big number, and many people expressed their praise and support for that system in the forum.
Someone then randomly asked a question. ‘If 50 redemption points were to be deducted for each instance of tardiness, then would someone who was absent for two days be sent back to Earth?’
The post did not name anyone in particular and it was unlikely that the hundreds of freshmen knew each other. However, someone soon replied to the poster with Xiao Lin’s achievements. For example, his physical examination attributes, the results of his admissions test, how much the tutors disliked him for insisting on dual cultivation, and how he still had 0 XP in Basic Meditation…
The reply must have been from someone who hated Xiao Lin, because the taunting was rather excessive. Xiao Lin sensed that, apart from Wang Dalin, he had not ruffled anyone else’s feathers since arriving at the academy. Be that as it may, such an occurrence was inevitable, given the envy that arose from some conflicting interests.
Xiao Lin was the class monitor, but only on an acting basis for a three-month term. After gradually getting a better understanding of the various benefits coming with the position, anyone with the slightest bit of ambition would certainly covet the position.
The students in the other classes might not share the same mentality, but their monitors were genuinely talented and had shown potential far exceeding that of any ordinary human throughout the past week. For example, Class One’s monitor Cheng Ming was the first to raise his Basic Swordsmanship to LV3. Another example would be Class Twelve’s monitor Chen Dao, whose meditation speed paled only to that of Gu Xiaoyue’s, effectively forcing everyone to drop whatever intentions they originally had.
Xiao Lin’s heart nearly jumped out when he received his attendance sheet. The record clearly showed that he was absent for two days, but there was also an explanation for his absence below, stating that it was due to a cooperation with the student union department to conduct important research. Therefore, his attendance was still full and he received a reward of 50 redemption points.
The phrase ‘conduct important research’ nearly made Xiao Lin burst with laughter. He breathed a sigh of relief. Song Junlang was telling the truth when he asserted that he had a high-ranked person taking care of him.
If Xiao Lin really was kicked out of Dawn Academy, everyone else in Class Seven would benefit from it. Theoretically speaking, they all stood a chance to become the next monitor. With that sort of mentality, they were unafraid to express their support, even though they knew how much Xiao Lin liked to show off his authority.
Xiao Lin ignored the provocative post which questioned whether or not he would be kicked out of the academy. Although he wanted to post his attendance sheet just to give those people a slap in the face, he was deterred by the possibility of stirring up trouble.
The post questioning Xiao Lin was not around for too long. Soon, a more popular post appeared on the forum. The post was made by a person named Wu Qin, but the name did not really matter. After all, everyone was practically strangers to each other. The more eye-catching aspect was the sophomore sign in front of the name, indicating that the poster was a second-year student.
The forum’s rules stipulated that those who were senior could enter the section for their juniors, while the reverse was not permitted. The rule came about as a means of encouraging older students to guide the younger ones, but the truth was that not many people were willing to waste their time on freshmen.
Xiao Lin’s eyes twitched when he saw who posted it. In fact, he immediately knew what Wu Qin was talking about without even looking at the post.
Wu Qin’s post condemned Xiao Lin too, exciting those who wanted to take over Xiao Lin’s position. Most of them probably felt that Xiao Lin—who had the audacity to provoke a sophomore—was the stereotypical example of someone who had done something foolish and received karmic retribution.
As a result, the number of clicks on that posts surged quickly. Many people who clicked in did so out of glee or curiosity. Wu Qin seemed very angry as she unceremoniously accused Xiao Lin of looking down on people when he was nothing but a freshman. He might have been acting class monitor, but he had no regard for his seniors and was extremely arrogant.
Wu Qin briefly stated what happened in the sophomore’s meditation room the other day but omitted half of what truly happened. For example, she brought up the weekend gossip and conversation between the senior sisters in the meditation room, but the focus was on how Xiao Lin mocked her because he thought too highly of himself.
Wu Qin would never believe that Xiao Lin only took a few minutes to upgrade his Basic Meditation from LV0 to LV1 that day. Even a talented student could not achieve that, so she concluded that the Freshmen Class Seven’s acting class monitor was just putting on a show.
As the saying went, those who showed off all the time had it coming to them. Wu Qin went ballistic and could no longer take it, so she made a point to head to the forum to vent her frustrations.
Xiao Lin went to the swordsmanship hall at two o’clock, and by six, his four hours of training had raised his XP to 300. The increase depended heavily on strict standards of force and strength when swinging the sword. The slightest sloppiness was not tolerated. There was no doubt that continuously swinging the sword consumed a lot of physical energy. A pleasant surprise for Xiao Lin was that he felt less strain in his sword practice after increasing his physical fitness and physique.
To some extent, it actually proved Xiao Lin’s suspicion that many of the academy’s courses were actually complementary to each other. For example, the efficiency of his swordsmanship practice increased after his physical fitness improved. He might not necessarily have gained better training results if he simply set aside all other courses and invested completely in swordsmanship.
The short weekend ended quickly, and once nightfall came, the freshmen could only scan the posts on the academy’s intranet, since they were not allowed to leave the dormitory. For many freshmen, it was a way for them to pass the time.
Some people shared their experiences in the previous week’s lessons, such as comparing the relative ease of different courses and which classes had better teachers. Everyone soon found out that the difficulties were actually rather similar.
In the first week of the course, the teachers in all the classes did not actually teach anything too substantial. Whether they took Basic Swordsmanship or Basic Saber Technique, the instructors merely asked them to repeat the largely non-technical swinging and hacking movements. Some people could not help but have some doubts; if that was the extent of the course, would it not be more convenient to train by themselves? Why was there a need for the teacher to be present?
There were also many who complained that the academy’s system was too harsh. For example, being late was the one rule that received the most complaints. According to the freshman student code, 50 redemption points was to be deducted for every instance of late arrival. Those who passed the admissions test had redemption points, but not much, and for many who were used to sleeping late, getting up early was a Herculean task.
Most of them thought that being late for one or two occasions was a non-issue, or perhaps the tutors might let them off if they begged for mercy for being late. Many had the mindset of getting lucky and escaping punishment if and when they were late. That seemed to be the case, especially when the teacher simply kept quiet, despite their tardiness.
That evening, all the freshmen received their weekly attendance records from the Central Computer, after which the entire dormitory building erupted with wailing. Those who had a record of being late received penalty slips, all at the same time. 50 redemption points were deducted for each late arrival, and several had their points deducted so badly that their scores were in the negative. They then received a warning from the student council and their credits could be used as collateral on account of the fact that it was their first offence. However, should the redemption points be deducted to zero a second time, their memories would be erased and they would be sent back to Earth.
Amidst the sorrow was joy as well. Most of the freshmen who went to class on time and never left early received another prompt at the exact same time—they had been given a weekly reward for full attendance: 50 redemption points!
The received redemption points was not that high a number, but they stood to obtain 200 redemption points for a full month’s attendance. That was a big number, and many people expressed their praise and support for that system in the forum.
Someone then randomly asked a question. ‘If 50 redemption points were to be deducted for each instance of tardiness, then would someone who was absent for two days be sent back to Earth?’
The post did not name anyone in particular and it was unlikely that the hundreds of freshmen knew each other. However, someone soon replied to the poster with Xiao Lin’s achievements. For example, his physical examination attributes, the results of his admissions test, how much the tutors disliked him for insisting on dual cultivation, and how he still had 0 XP in Basic Meditation…
The reply must have been from someone who hated Xiao Lin, because the taunting was rather excessive. Xiao Lin sensed that, apart from Wang Dalin, he had not ruffled anyone else’s feathers since arriving at the academy. Be that as it may, such an occurrence was inevitable, given the envy that arose from some conflicting interests.
Xiao Lin was the class monitor, but only on an acting basis for a three-month term. After gradually getting a better understanding of the various benefits coming with the position, anyone with the slightest bit of ambition would certainly covet the position.
The students in the other classes might not share the same mentality, but their monitors were genuinely talented and had shown potential far exceeding that of any ordinary human throughout the past week. For example, Class One’s monitor Cheng Ming was the first to raise his Basic Swordsmanship to LV3. Another example would be Class Twelve’s monitor Chen Dao, whose meditation speed paled only to that of Gu Xiaoyue’s, effectively forcing everyone to drop whatever intentions they originally had.
Xiao Lin’s heart nearly jumped out when he received his attendance sheet. The record clearly showed that he was absent for two days, but there was also an explanation for his absence below, stating that it was due to a cooperation with the student union department to conduct important research. Therefore, his attendance was still full and he received a reward of 50 redemption points.
The phrase ‘conduct important research’ nearly made Xiao Lin burst with laughter. He breathed a sigh of relief. Song Junlang was telling the truth when he asserted that he had a high-ranked person taking care of him.
If Xiao Lin really was kicked out of Dawn Academy, everyone else in Class Seven would benefit from it. Theoretically speaking, they all stood a chance to become the next monitor. With that sort of mentality, they were unafraid to express their support, even though they knew how much Xiao Lin liked to show off his authority.
Xiao Lin ignored the provocative post which questioned whether or not he would be kicked out of the academy. Although he wanted to post his attendance sheet just to give those people a slap in the face, he was deterred by the possibility of stirring up trouble.
The post questioning Xiao Lin was not around for too long. Soon, a more popular post appeared on the forum. The post was made by a person named Wu Qin, but the name did not really matter. After all, everyone was practically strangers to each other. The more eye-catching aspect was the sophomore sign in front of the name, indicating that the poster was a second-year student.
The forum’s rules stipulated that those who were senior could enter the section for their juniors, while the reverse was not permitted. The rule came about as a means of encouraging older students to guide the younger ones, but the truth was that not many people were willing to waste their time on freshmen.
Xiao Lin’s eyes twitched when he saw who posted it. In fact, he immediately knew what Wu Qin was talking about without even looking at the post.
Wu Qin’s post condemned Xiao Lin too, exciting those who wanted to take over Xiao Lin’s position. Most of them probably felt that Xiao Lin—who had the audacity to provoke a sophomore—was the stereotypical example of someone who had done something foolish and received karmic retribution.
As a result, the number of clicks on that posts surged quickly. Many people who clicked in did so out of glee or curiosity. Wu Qin seemed very angry as she unceremoniously accused Xiao Lin of looking down on people when he was nothing but a freshman. He might have been acting class monitor, but he had no regard for his seniors and was extremely arrogant.
Wu Qin briefly stated what happened in the sophomore’s meditation room the other day but omitted half of what truly happened. For example, she brought up the weekend gossip and conversation between the senior sisters in the meditation room, but the focus was on how Xiao Lin mocked her because he thought too highly of himself.
Wu Qin would never believe that Xiao Lin only took a few minutes to upgrade his Basic Meditation from LV0 to LV1 that day. Even a talented student could not achieve that, so she concluded that the Freshmen Class Seven’s acting class monitor was just putting on a show.
As the saying went, those who showed off all the time had it coming to them. Wu Qin went ballistic and could no longer take it, so she made a point to head to the forum to vent her frustrations.
