Despite dragging his feet to get there, it wasn’t long before Yang Qing reached the gates of the Institute. For a place that had helped mold who he was and given him so much, it was sowhere he would rather avoid, yet he just couldn’t stop coming back no matter how much he wanted to stay away. For one, the Order’s main library was here.
His palms grew sweaty and his throat dried up, prompting a small gulp to wet it and give himself a little courage. But try as he might, no courage ca. All he had in reserve was fear, anxiety, worry, and a sharp uptick in paranoia.
His eyes darted around nervously like a prey animal that knew it was neck deep in predator territory. He kept glancing about, expecting to be attacked at any mont. Sadly, this wasn’t so unfounded paranoia or deep seated trauma influencing his behavior. Well, the trauma did play a part, but experience had its hand in it too.
To train their readiness and alertness, the instructors would constantly attack them at random tis. Sotis it happened during class, other tis when they were just walking around and enjoying their leisure, and occasionally even after a draining bout when they were resting and recovering. They would get sneak attacked when they were on the edge of unconscious exhaustion. Yang Qing was one of the lucky ones who never fell victim to that, thanks to his high rate of recovery.
But he was a regular victim of getting attacked during his leisure ti. He could never enjoy a al in peace. Those attacks ruined alti for him throughout his four years at the Institute. The Institute offered free als to its students, and despite the Order’s spirit stone pinching nature, it never compromised on the quality of the food served.
Such a sweet deal was like paradise for an eater like Yang Qing, but the instructors so diligently ruined it for him. He could never eat in peace because, like the vindictive and evil fiends they were, they always attacked him there. They never even tried to mix things up. It was always when he was about to eat, and Yang Qing was sure they were more heavy-handed than usual during those sneak attacks because he was always left unconscious afterward. When he ca to, he would find himself in the dical Valley with a starved belly since those instructors never let him get a decent bite in before they attacked.
He figured those instructors likely held a grudge that he was the only one who almost always managed to escape their sneak attacks after their daily duels.
There was a reason he decided to risk it and try crimson boars of dubious origins. Yes, his gluttony played a part, but being sneak-attacked and starved played a huge role too. After all, the sneak attacks only happened within the Institute’s grounds. Once you were outside, you were safe. The library, despite being within the target range, was also a safe zone.
Those insane conditions were what birthed the paranoid scholarly eater that was Yang Qing.
When it ca to the attacks, sotis the instructors acted personally, and other tis they employed the services of the residents of Requiem, who excelled in that area. When it ca to sneak attacks, there was one group of individuals that thoroughly excelled at it: assassins. Luckily for the instructors, they were spoiled for choice, given that Requiem was filled with them. As for motivation, the instructors didn’t even need to offer any to get them to put their lifeti of experience and skill into the deed.
Other than those two thods, the instructors also set traps by employing arrays. Most were well-crafted illusory arrays, but there were also teleportation arrays that would throw you into one of the many dangerous locations within the Institute’s grounds.
So yes, Yang Qing was well within his rights to have a sweaty back and a rapidly racing heart as he stood at the cusp of entering the gates of the Institute.
Yang Qing took deep breaths as he muttered to himself, "I am a seasoned palace realm expert. I am no longer that kid they sneak-attacked all the ti, with no reply. I’d like to see them try. Hmph. My fists have been feeling itchy."
Despite the fierce statent, his hands didn’t stop shaking when he tried to back his bravado by clenching a fist.
He let out a depressed sigh as he hid the shaky fist beneath his robes. His eyes, flashing with deep trepidation, resignation, and stubbornness, lifted as he raised his foot and crossed over the threshold. When his foot fell, it felt as if a frost mountain had instantly dropped onto his body, suffocating and chilling him in equal asure.
As soone seasoned in operating under extre fear, he moved one leg in front of the other, and before long, his movents fell into rhythm. The ingrained survival habits from his Institute days imdiately kicked in as he began rapidly scanning his surroundings with every sense available to him. He used his eyes, ears, and nose to thoroughly examine the area, while his spiritual sense was deployed in bursts. One mont it was stretched to its absolute limits, and the next it was condensed to within a few inches of his body.
The bursts allowed him to foresee dangers while quickly reacting to any he might have missed. It was the best way to scout with one’s spiritual sense.
anwhile, on the inside, his entire being (from his qi to his essence, to his body itself) was prid to release overwhelming force at any instant, like a bow drawn to its extre, hovering on the thin line between the string snapping and unleashing its most powerful shot.
As he walked and settled deeper into the rhythm of alertness and self-preservation, he strangely began to calm down. That growing sense of calm gave him room to look around him instead of simply scanning for danger.
For all its dark underbelly and the harrowing experiences it gave its students, the Institute was a beautiful place. The sprawling mountains seed endless, the lush greenery and winding waterways ford a serene landscape, and noble-looking birds glided gracefully above. The courtyards and other buildings reflected a harmony between noble aesthetics and a grounded connection to the environnt.
Then there was the air—air born from an ancestral dragon vein.
You could close your eyes and breathe, and just doing that would let you feel the grandeur and mysticism of the Institute grounds.
About the only thing that perhaps tainted the image was its residents, more specifically, the students.
Where its lands, waters, air, and buildings made it look like an untouched ethereal paradise steeped in mystery, the students within it painted a very different picture.
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