Then I Ask You

Then, this breakfast cost Su Qi eighty-eight bucks.

What a rip-off.

Eight pan-fried buns for thirty-five, a cup of soy milk for nine.

Sure, he’d squeezed a decent sum out of the Yun family last time, but after stocking up on card-making materials for the Source Realm martial exam, he was left with just over a million in his pocket.

No helping it—this profession burned cash like crazy.

Had he known he’d end up in Magic City, he should’ve billed Jiangxia for operational losses.

A standard seventh-tier Mythic-grade card went for over twenty million on the market.

Given the sheer lethality of his "Path’s End Spear," which could one-shot a tenth-tier opponent, it should at least be valued as a ninth-tier Mythic card—worth eighty million, maybe even a hundred.

Damn, what a loss.

If push came to shove, once his funds ran dry, he’d just go cry poverty to Jiangxia.

He already had the slogan ready: "I shed blood for Jiangxia City!"

...

And then...

The two of them got lost at the Magic Card Academy.

No exaggeration.

Even in a place as densely packed as Magic City, the words "First Academy" carried weight.

Take the simplest example: this year’s freshmen, aside from Liu Yuan, all had a baseline strength of sixth-tier peak—enough to utterly crush someone like Li Hu, who’d once bragged that even if the higher-ups begged him, he’d never deign to teach at Jiangxia’s Sixth Academy.

Just think about that gap.

A teacher you couldn’t even hire on your knees wouldn’t last ten rounds against the weakest new student here.

That’s why Su Qi had been mocked during enrollment.

A twenty-four-year-old at the early seventh-tier was, by the academy’s standards, undeniably bottom-tier.

And he’d gotten in through a special exemption, no less.

At least Liu Yuan had the resume of a fifth-tier defeating the "Imperial Capital’s Yellow Water Guy" in a cross-tier match.

Sure, that guy wasn’t much, but he was barely qualified to scrape the bottom of the First Academy’s barrel.

Add the mutual disdain between "Imperial Capital" and "Magic City" elites, and surprisingly, no one talked smack about her.

So under these conditions, it wasn’t strange for the campus to be sprawling or the dorms oversized.

Plenty of donors were happy to fund new buildings.

Which was why Liu Yuan had already pulled up a navigation app, muttering to herself as she checked her phone: "Building A... should be this way. Yeah, definitely!"

Her voice was bright and energetic, a stark contrast to Su Qi’s half-dead, ready-to-disintegrate-on-the-spot demeanor.

Five more minutes, and they finally reached Building A.

Su Qi lifted his heavy eyelids for a cursory glance.

Definitely more impressive than the old lecture halls he’d known.

"Room 301, third floor," Liu Yuan confirmed before dragging Su Qi inside without hesitation.

...

"Brother, wake up already~"

Feeling Su Qi’s sluggishness, Liu Yuan turned to whisper-complain.

Su Qi fluttered his eyelids in response.

Who attends 8 a.m. classes?

Me?

The only reason he couldn’t retaliate when she yanked his blanket was because she was his sister.

Anyone else?

He’d pry their skull open to see what kind of brain dared summon him to morning lectures.

Liu Yuan sighed and kept pulling him upstairs.

Finally, at the first corner on the third floor, they spotted the "301" placard.

Liu Yuan exhaled in relief.

The classroom was already packed.

Despite being on the third floor, it was a tiered lecture hall with decent space—though the front and middle seats were nearly full.

This jolted Su Qi awake.

What the hell?

The prime "feng shui spots" at the back were empty?

Were they trying to out-grind everyone?

Back at his old academy, those seats required early bird warfare!

As Su Qi mentally griped, his gaze landed on the podium.

Oh great, class had already started.

A middle-aged man with a tragically receding hairline was lecturing emphatically over a projection, his voice booming with dramatic inflection.

Every so often, he’d flick a beam of light to annotate the slides.

Pretty handy—cut down on teaching tools too.

Though he’d only caught snippets, Su Qi had to admit this professor’s Card Theory Fundamentals lecture was leagues better than the dry textbook recitals he’d endured in the past.

"It’s my fault, Brother," Liu Yuan whispered, guilt-ridden. "I should’ve woken you earlier. Then we wouldn’t be late."

Su Qi wanted to cry.

Bless her heart, still blaming herself when he was the one who’d dragged his feet.

Sure, getting lost ate some time, but the main issue was his own sluggishness.

"Don’t worry," she added, still hushed, "we’ll sneak in."

Su Qi: "..."

Right. His sister wasn’t exactly a rule-following model student either.

She had a history of covertly gaming on her phone during class.

Liu Yuan crouched, moving with feline grace along the wall. The second the professor turned, she darted inside, claimed a back-row seat, and triumphantly waved Su Qi over.

Smooth as butter.

Su Qi raised a brow.

Impressive. Clearly a seasoned latecomer.

But no matter.

He wasn’t some saint either.

Sneaking into class late?

Child’s play.

Alas, reality was cruel.

Su Qi’s larger frame made stealth impossible.

Before he could fully infiltrate, the professor—as if sensing the disturbance—paused mid-lecture.

"Hm?"

A razor-sharp gaze locked onto Su Qi, half-hunched in the doorway.

The air froze.

All rustling papers and scribbling pens ceased.

Every eye in the room swiveled toward the entrance.

Liu Yuan paled, rigid in her seat.

Su Qi: "..."

Well, that backfired.

He slowly retracted the leg he’d stepped in with.

But no worries.

His skin was thick enough.

"Reporting in!"

"Student," the balding professor said flatly, "which dorm are you from? Do you not know class has started?"

Su Qi felt the weight of dozens of stares—curious, amused, or just here for the drama.

Typical Great Xia crowd, always hungry for a spectacle.

He sighed.

Just my luck.

Second day in Magic City: scammed at breakfast, then caught late to class.

"Sorry, I—" Su Qi began.

"Professor!"

A frantic voice cut in from the back.

Liu Yuan shot up, face flushed. "H-he’s with me! We’re new transfers, not locals! It’s our first day, and we got lost! It’s all my fault—I led us the wrong way!"

She frantically signaled Su Qi with her eyes: Play along!

Su Qi observed Liu Yuan's flustered, near-tearful expression, momentarily unable to tell if it was genuine or an act.

The teacher's gaze shifted between Liu Yuan and Su Qi for a brief moment before his stern expression softened slightly. He glanced at Su Qi again and said, "Alright, I'll let it slide this time. But don’t be late again—Magic Card Academy doesn’t tolerate tardiness or early departures."

"We’re here to cultivate talent for Great Xia, not perpetuate the nonsense from your old academies."

After a pause, he added, "Come in and take a seat. Don’t disrupt the class."

Su Qi felt as if he’d been granted amnesty and nodded hastily.

Liu Yuan also exhaled in relief, murmuring, "Thank you, Professor."

Su Qi strode into the classroom, ignoring the curious glances, and headed straight for the back row. He plopped down right next to Liu Yuan.

"That scared me to death," Liu Yuan whispered, patting her nonexistent chest in exaggerated relief. "I thought you were about to get kicked out, Brother."

Su Qi shot her a sidelong glance.

This little scene had you that rattled?

"Heh." Liu Yuan responded with a goofy grin.

Su Qi didn’t bother replying. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, ready to catch up on lost sleep.

Noticing this, Liu Yuan nudged him lightly with her elbow. "Brother! At least stay awake for the first class!"

"It’s because it’s the first class that I can’t stay awake…"

As for Theoretical Foundations of Card Magic…

Being the inaugural lesson for freshmen, it was undoubtedly important.

A towering edifice rises from the ground.

The goal was to correct misconceptions students might’ve picked up from poorly taught curricula or misunderstandings they’d been too embarrassed to clarify.

But…

Su Qi had already learned this once.

Yet, barely a moment after closing his eyes, he felt a poke on his arm.

"Brother, brother," Liu Yuan’s voice was barely audible, like the buzz of a mosquito. "Wake up. The professor’s actually kinda interesting."

Su Qi didn’t even lift an eyelid.

What’s more interesting than sleep?

"Also," Liu Yuan continued her hushed rambling, "I think I heard him say final grades are tied to attendance. Tardiness and skipping classes deduct points."

She glanced around and noticed most students were similarly whispering to their neighbors.

Only the guy beside her stood out like a sore thumb in the otherwise engaged classroom.

Su Qi: "…"

He let out a noncommittal grunt but didn’t move.

"If you don’t let me sleep, I won’t have the energy to swing the hoe tonight."

Liu Yuan pondered this seriously.

Swinging the hoe is more critical.

Hoe the millet under noon sun; sweat drips to the soil below.

No hoe-swinging meant no food.

She immediately clammed up and pretended to take notes, morphing into the picture of an attentive student.

Su Qi dozed off again.

"zZZ~"

An indeterminate amount of time later, the classroom abruptly fell silent.

Then Su Qi felt another poke from his sister.

Is this payback for all the times I’ve poked her?

Too lazy to open his eyes, he mumbled, "Hoe?"

Liu Yuan whispered urgently, "Brother… the ‘Bald Eagle’ just called on you…"

Su Qi: "…"

Like brother, like sister?

Since when did this airhead start nicknaming professors on day one too?

And it was the exact nickname he’d thought of.

Rewind one minute.

"Everyone, quiet. What I’m about to cover is crucial—pay attention."

"Humanity took millennia to conquer the skies and seas."

"But in that year, we lost those privileges forever…"

"zZZ~ snore~"

Perhaps due to an uncomfortable sleeping position, Su Qi began emitting faint snores.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal.

But the classroom was dead silent, and the ‘Bald Eagle’ was no ordinary man.

The ‘Bald Eagle’ frowned at Su Qi. "Since our tardy friend seems to have unique insights on my lecture, why not share them with the class?"

"The year I just mentioned—what was its date? And what exactly happened?"

Su Qi: "zZZ~ snore~"

Thus…

Liu Yuan risked the fate of the unswung hoe and poked him again.

Only then did Su Qi notice the entire classroom’s eyes were once again locked onto him—more intensely than during his late entrance.

He sighed inwardly.

What did I do to deserve this?

It’s just a nap.

The ‘Bald Eagle,’ seeing Su Qi remain unresponsive, said flatly, "If you won’t volunteer, you’ll stand until dismissal. It’ll help you remember."

"You might curse me in your heart now."

"But a decade from now, you’ll thank me."

"If you can’t even answer this foundational question, what right do you have to sleep in class?"

Su Qi: ???

Huh?

Magic Card Academy’s standards are this high?

This counts as a basic question?

But reading between the lines—if he answered, he could keep sleeping?

Liu Yuan watched him anxiously, fingers twisting her sleeve, more nervous than if she’d been called on herself.

Su Qi yawned and rose leisurely.

Truthfully, no.

Many students furrowed their brows. The question was clearly beyond freshmen-level material.

The year itself was easy—just convert from New Era Year 1.

But the event?

Almost no one in the room could answer.

So, without overthinking, Su Qi replied.

He cleared his throat and recited in a textbook-perfect monotone: "If I recall correctly, your quote comes from the prologue of Secret Histories of the Card Era, correct?"

"In the year 2326, the former civilization perished."

"The skies collapsed; the seas revolted."

"Realms once familiar became forbidden…"

"Unnameable horrors entered human sight."

"Modern weapons proved near-useless against them."

"Humanity was repeatedly pushed to the brink, forced to consider mutual annihilation with nuclear arms."

"Our ancestors sought enlightenment through relics of history, forging paths of cultivation and ancient martial arts. As for the origin of Card Wielders—"

The ‘Bald Eagle’s’ fingers, which had been tapping the desk, stilled. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

The book was obscure—respected in card research circles but hardly freshman required reading.

"Oh? You’ve done some extracurricular digging." His tone remained neutral. "Then answer me this."