Karl was waiting for me in the antechamber. He stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, his expression cold and distant. Anyone watching would never have guessed we knew each other. Which, no doubt, was exactly the impression he wanted to give. Without a word, he opened the door to the corridor and, after a short pause, motioned for me to follow.

We walked in silence. Karl stayed slightly ahead, maintaining a formal distance. He led me to the lifts, pressed the call button, and stopped beside it, staring straight ahead as though I were just part of the furniture. Even once we stepped into the lift, he remained silent.

Only when the doors slid shut did the mask drop. Karl turned to me and finally smiled — that familiar, confident, irreverent grin.

"So what was that theatre all about?" I asked, a little irritated.

Karl shrugged and leaned back against the lift wall.

"Mei Lan likes to keep candidates tense — and everyone else in the dark. That's just her way."

I gave him a careful look.

"That was actually some sort of interview?"

"What do you think?" Karl tilted his head slightly. "Liang Shi recommended you personally. Not on a whim. I heard he was seriously impressed with how you handled that bully situation in your block. He also praised your honesty and a certain… moral flexibility, if we can call it that."

"Moral flexibility?" I echoed dryly.

"Don't take it the wrong way," Karl smiled. "That's a compliment. In the Hall of Order, it's a valuable trait. Honesty is great, but there's no room for fanatics here. People who can balance principle and reality? Those are rare — and prized."

Apparently, Liang Shi took his job much more seriously than I'd thought.

"Well… still seems like I failed."

Karl shook his head, more firmly this time.

"That's because even the Hall of Order won't risk claiming Novak's man. I don't know exactly what you're doing for him… though I've got my suspicions. Smart move, by the way — taking off the ring. It would've drawn a lot more attention here. That's why I reminded Mei who you were."

"She knows who I am?" I asked being quite surprised.

"She knows Novak picked up a first-year."

"Sounds like he got himself a puppy."

"A stray cat," Johansson snorted. "Independent and full of attitude…"

I stayed silent, trying to process everything.

So, I'm Novak's man? I suppose that's not the worst thing in the world. But what kind of relationship does he have with the Hall? How much power do they actually wield? On the one hand, the Hall is an institution, and by default, stronger than any one man. On the other hand, I still don't know what position Novak holds.

"What does that mean for me?" I asked.

"You might get killed," Karl replied honestly. "Standard price for playing with demons. But that's just a matter of time for all of us. You and I might just go out a bit sooner," he laughed cheerfully. "You know, Novak doesn't get involved in cadet matters too often. He picks his people very carefully — and once he has them, he holds on tight. So… congratulations. Welcome to the club of major intrigues."

The lift stopped, and Karl fell silent. Two cadets entered the cabin, and we continued the ride in silence.

Karl walked me all the way to the station but didn't bother stepping out.

"Good luck, cadet," he said, hitting the button.

"Thank you, sir," I replied politely.

And then I started thinking about what to do next. Not that it required much thought — Rene's training hall, obviously. I had to finish mastering Chain Punch today, no matter what. Though that meant another late lunch. I needed to head home, down some Pure Thoughts, and hope it sped things up.

I wonder… is tea addiction a thing?

"Rene, I'm back on the tea!" I declared as I stepped into the hall, cutting him off before he could start chewing me out. "Doc says it's genuine red-grade Pure Thoughts."

We trained close and hard. So close and so hard, in fact, that Rene snapped and charged me 500 units for the session. He barely left my side the whole time — and it was worth every unit. I didn't just manage to channel qi to the three knuckles along the triple channel simultaneously—I mastered all four.

Yeah, I still had hiccups. My energy flow was uneven, and threading branching threads was tough — sometimes they snapped. But overall, it was a solid foundation for working with the whole arm.

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I could feel how much the power of projection had increased. If I'd had that kind of force yesterday, I might not have needed tricks. At the very least, I could've broken Tariq's nose without any fancy manoeuvres. Assuming I'd hit him in the face. Still needed work on aim.

Over lunch, we were back to discussing techniques. First, I reassured Bao that I'd flunked the interview, and then the conversation shifted. Turns out I'd remembered wrong — Bao wasn't developing his mace. His main root was Wood! Mace: 20, Wood: 23.

Wood had one big problem… well, honestly, it had plenty of weaknesses, but the real issue was movement techniques — especially for the first tier. Outside of a forest, they were basically rubbish. Bao was preparing for duels in the arena, and arena terrain was mostly variations of sand, stone, concrete, and plastic.

Denis had no such issues with movement. He'd already picked out a technique — a dash with an elbow strike, something similar to many fist variations. The difference was that the palm-root energy didn't detonate on contact. It penetrated softly into the body and caused internal damage. The only problem was, Denis hadn't bought it yet — or started learning it. He was still looking for a better-paying job and hadn't even picked a mentor. Neither had Bao, actually.

Marlon…

Marlon refused to talk about his techniques. Said that while we were all decent blokes, there was a fair chance we'd end up facing each other in the arena — and he preferred to keep his arsenal a surprise.

That killed the conversation pretty effectively, and no one bothered asking Nur if she'd chosen her techniques yet.

After lunch, I realised it was time to deal with Tariq's crew. They'd received another lesson yesterday, but I doubted it would stick for long. As soon as they mastered their first techniques, I was expecting another round of fists.

The humiliation they'd endured wouldn't let them rest — so it was time I gathered more intel. Their routines, schedules, habits. After all, they'd managed to dig up information on me — like how I booked the Flow Chamber every third evening. Lucky for me, as an assistant supervisor, I had access to the shared assistant chat. That little perk was worth its weight in gold right now.

I opened my interface and quickly typed out a message on the move:

Sullivan: "Hey everyone. Has anyone seen any of Tariq's cronies today? If you do, give me a ping, please. Need to clarify some things about yesterday's situation."

There was no reply at first — not that I expected an immediate one. The assistants were scattered across the complex, doing their own things and only checking messages occasionally — unless it was an alert. And of course, before I got any serious answer, I had to wade through the usual nonsense from the lads.

Omar: "Not on my shift, please!!!"

Kowalski: "You can on mine! I'm curious! Just give me a heads-up!"

Hao: "We're curator's assistants, not a gang!"

I can't stand that little prick. Pretty sure it's mutual. And his holier-than-thou comment didn't just rub me the wrong way.

Lin: "And what would you do in that situation, Sun?"

Lin: "Saw the ginger one about ten minutes ago in the corridor near Training Hall C23."

Sullivan: "Location ping?"

Lin: "here."

Training Hall C23 — that was pretty far from our block, but fairly close to Rene's hall.

Sullivan: "Much appreciated!"

I sent my thanks to Lin Jiao. His reply broke the floodgates, and soon other assistants chimed in too — sharing locations, rough time stamps, and who they'd spotted, though not as specifically. Still, ten minutes ago... he was either heading to lunch, or coming back from it.

Training right after lunch wasn't ideal, but hey, depends on your schedule. If he hadn't eaten yet…

I stopped and considered which route I would take to the cafeteria.

Not that many options, it turned out.

I picked the busiest corridor — the one the ginger guy and Tariq's other cronies were most likely to pass through, based on the ping.

If I was right, we'd cross paths in a few minutes. And if I was wrong... well, just a bit of extra cardio.

I walked at an unhurried pace, trying to project calm and ease, even though my heart was pounding harder than I'd like to admit. And my instincts didn't fail me — near the corridor corner, I spotted the trio. They froze in place as soon as they saw me.

Our eyes met. For a second, the tension in the air was so thick it could've sparked. They clearly hadn't expected to run into me here and now. I figured they'd chosen a crowded corridor on purpose — to avoid meeting me one-on-one. The ginger one's eyes flicked with irritation, caution, and doubt.

I, on the other hand, deliberately stretched my lips into a friendly smile and strolled towards them without haste.

"Hey there, lads," I said as casually as I could.

The three exchanged glances. Then Kim, seemingly their number two, answered uncertainly,

"What do you want?"

I stopped a few steps away, doing my best to look confident and relaxed — easier for me than it was for them. They had every reason to expect a punch. I had no intention of starting a fight.

"Nothing in particular," I shook my head. "How's Tariq?"

The redhead visibly tensed, while Kim loosened up a little. He must've realised I was only here to talk — and maybe rattle them a bit.

"He's fine," he said curtly. "Already recovering."

"Glad to hear it," I nodded, smiling a bit wider. His new teeth were going to take a while to grow back. "And how much has that set back his progress?"

They exchanged another look. This was well beyond the usual threat script — and something like confusion flickered in their eyes.

"What are you playing at, Sullivan?" the black guy — the biggest of the three — finally spoke.

"Nothing bad," I said, lifting my hands in a peaceable gesture. "I just wanted to point out one simple thing. Pulling off an ambush? Not that hard. You've figured that out yourselves, right?"

They glanced at each other again, clearly reassessing the situation.

"So," I went on, not giving them time to formulate a response, "I suggest we don't repeat that. I've got enough to deal with without ambushes. I'm focused on my own growth. But if not…" I glanced around meaningfully. "Well, who knows when and where someone else might happen to bump into you. Constantly looking over your shoulder can be exhausting."

Kim shot me a look full of suspicion and resentment — but after a few seconds, he gave a short nod. "We hear you," he said quietly.

"Good," I smiled again. "Glad we had this chat. Enjoy the rest of your day."

I turned and walked away at a steady pace, feeling their stares stabbing into my back. I knew — they weren't going to make a move today. I'd taken the first step to show them there are other ways to play this game. That was my move. Still… the feeling that another clash was coming hadn't left me.

Could I still throw a wrench into their little trio?

I spun around abruptly — so fast that the ginger and Kim nearly flinched.

"By the way, why the hell is Tariq even your leader? With all his injuries and medbay time, he should be well behind you in development by now."

Hopefully, that would rattle their little alliance.

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