Chapter 8: Unyielding as Stone, Resolute as Iron (Part Two)

When Principal Liu secretly labeled Shi Tiexin as “a man of supreme courage” but added a question mark, Shi Tiexin was standing in his new dormitory. If Principal Liu had known what was running through Shi Tiexin’s mind at that moment, that label would have been torn off without hesitation.

He was, in fact, nothing like the image of someone unmoved by adversity or unruffled by provocation. On the contrary, he was both shocked and furious! He simply kept it off his face.

Ignoring the fellow named Zhou Nan, who was grinding his teeth in rage nearby, Shi Tiexin’s dissatisfaction with the dormitory itself was nearly overflowing from every pore.

First, the beds: though there were four bunk beds in the room, they weren’t the lofted kind with desks below, but ancient, battered double bunks. Who knew how many years they’d been in use? The green paint peeled away in patches, exposing rusted iron pipes beneath. Gripping the frame with the slightest force made the whole structure sway and creak alarmingly.

The rest of the environment was no better. The wardrobe was painfully narrow—clearly insufficient for storing anything. He hadn’t inspected the elite class’s dorm in detail, but recalled each one had a bathroom and wash area. Here, there was nothing of the sort; a dilapidated wooden window marked the boundary. Study desks were also in short supply—eight students, yet only two desks, as if the school assumed no one here needed to study.

And the smell—he’d rather not describe it. The stench of the toilet near the door, the pervasive reek of sweaty feet, the odor of dirty laundry unwashed for ages, and a sour, moldy tang of things left to rot—all blended into an unbearable miasma. Shi Tiexin curled his toes and knew without a doubt the floor was filthy. Something sticky had been spilled and, from the feel of it, would probably pull at his shoes with every step.

Finally, his assigned bed: piled high with assorted junk, evidently used as a public storage area by the others. Clearly, relations among the roommates were less than amiable.

A sense of bleak desolation washed over him. In his heart, Shi Tiexin wanted to curse aloud.

Damn it! Was this really necessary?

All he’d done was stand up and shout once in class—not a crime against heaven or earth—and now he’d been exiled here as if he were some criminal being marched to his punishment!

He’d thought this so-called sacred place for cultivation might just have strict rules, and if he’d broken one, well, that was the cost of staying. But right beside him, that guy had been caught with six packs of cigarettes—who knew how many more he was hiding—and surely yelling in class wasn’t a greater offense than that! Yet how did the square-headed supervisor handle it? Not a single harsh word!

And those three red armband enforcers—when they searched his things, they rifled through his possessions like bandits, but when they came here, they turned and left without a word. What did that mean? Clearly, they were playing favorites—targeting him specifically!

Damn it all! Do they really think I’m an easy target?

And assigning me to the “trash class”—that’s practically cutting off my future!

During this muddled period of blended consciousness, Shi Tiexin gradually understood what the “trash class” really was: a dumping ground for the most hopeless students in the entire school. The other consciousness that lingered in him had been obsessed with returning to the elite class, only to fall even further down.

That other consciousness was shocked, angry, hurt, and despairing—filled with a bitterness that defied description.

At first, Shi Tiexin couldn’t understand why that sense of grief was so intense. But then it dawned on him: that sorrow, that unwillingness, that despair felt so familiar.

Wasn’t it the same feeling he’d experienced himself, in those final moments before losing consciousness?

So, the other consciousness was a fellow sufferer, after all…

With that realization, his mind cleared. The two warring consciousnesses, bound by their shared grief, suddenly reached a subtle harmony. The opposing awareness quieted, and Shi Tiexin felt, for the first time, that he could truly take control of this body.

No more dizziness, no more confusion—the other presence faded, leaving everything in his hands. His throat tickled, and he suddenly realized: he could finally speak.

After a whole day’s torment, he could finally talk!

He cleared his throat, rubbed his neck, and turned toward Zhou Nan.

Hmm, his movements were still a bit stiff—he didn’t have full control yet.

Zhou Nan, with his unfriendly expression, merely watched with no intention of helping. Suddenly, he realized that the reason the big-headed supervisor had come at this hour was because of this guy! Damn it, losing six packs of cigarettes was all this bastard’s fault!

Just wait, you—if I don’t make your life a living hell, I’m not Zhou Nan!

He glared at Shi Tiexin’s back, sizing him up with hostility. If Shi Tiexin hadn’t been so much taller and looked so imposing, Zhou Nan might have squared his shoulders and started a fight right then.

But just as Zhou Nan was preparing to settle the score, the towering newcomer suddenly turned, his face set in a grim, intimidating mask. The poor overhead lighting cast deep shadows across his features, making him look downright demonic.

With guilt already weighing on his mind, Zhou Nan was startled and instinctively took a step back.

Shi Tiexin was puzzled—why was this guy retreating? His throat was still a bit rough, his voice not entirely steady, so he stepped closer and asked, “Whose things are these on the bed?”

His first words were a success—he’d managed to express what he wanted, even if his voice was hoarse and his tone a little dark. That was a minor issue; overall, Shi Tiexin was satisfied.

But Zhou Nan, on the other hand, was frightened.

This guy was coming right at him!

And he spoke with the cold menace of a crime boss from some gangster drama, a man with countless followers and a trail of bodies behind him!

Holy hell, this newcomer was terrifying—more intimidating than even Da Long, the toughest guy in the second year! Zhou Nan wasn’t brave to begin with, and his guilty conscience only made it worse; now he was thoroughly cowed.

Wait a minute—

Escorted here personally by the square-headed supervisor…

Accompanied by three notorious discipline enforcers…

Could this guy be someone truly formidable?