It beca apparent that, much like Shadowridge University, Spine Ridge had very few mystic cultivators. They could practically be counted on one hand.
Yet what shocked her was their strength.
Those few cultivators were already nearing Heaven Rank.
anwhile, most regular students in the departnt were only at later stages of Earth Rank.
The disparity was enormous.
Even more surprising was their lack of interest in lectures.
Many appeared disengaged, chatting among themselves as if attendance were rely a formality.
Later, through casual inquiry, Lana learned the reason.
Their tuition for the year was already covered, and in their final phase, students were encouraged to explore the world rather than remain confined to classrooms.
Their evaluations depended on real-world experience, practical training, and discoveries made outside the university, after which they would be given a month-long assessnt period.
This approach was entirely new to Lana.
As lectures continued, she realized that while the teachers here explained concepts well, their depth could not compare to Axel and the instructors at Shadowridge University.
Still, she remained respectful and diligently wrote down every point.
At one mont, she noticed that all the mystic cultivators in the classroom had begun chatting among themselves, paying little attention to the lecture at all.
From ti to ti, the students would glance in Lana’s direction.
So would simply roll their eyes before returning to their phones, their fingers tapping lazily against the screens.
Others would whisper among themselves, making no effort to lower their voices. Each action carried the sa silent ssage.
She was not welco here.
Yet Lana showed no sign of irritation.
She remained calm, her posture relaxed, her pen moving steadily across her notes as though none of it concerned her.
After the lecture ended, the first direct remark finally surfaced.
A woman with curly hair tied into a tight bun stood up.
Her fair complexion and sharp features made her look refined at first glance, but the way she looked at Lana was filled with thinly veiled contempt.
"I recently heard so news," she said in a casual tone.
"Apparently, even soone with such low talent, stuck at Yellow Rank, managed to enter the exchange program. It seems their head proffesor Axel has been lowering standards all along. Truly shaful."
Lana would have ignored it.
She would have remained silent.
But the woman had ntioned her uncle.
Lana leaned back in her chair and let out a small chuckle.
"People nowadays really lack courage," she replied. "They cannot say things directly, so they hide behind vague comnts and excuses. How despicable."
The atmosphere instantly froze.
Every face stiffened.
The curly-haired woman’s expression darkened. She stood up, walked toward Lana, and stared down at her as though examining sothing distasteful.
"I have seen foolish people," she said coldly.
"I have also seen moths rushing toward flas to die. But this is the first ti I have seen soone so eager to destroy herself."
Lana tilted her head and laughed softly.
"Were you describing yourself?"
A faint murmur ran through the class.
"Oh?" the woman sneered. "It seems this moth lacks self-awareness as well."
"Self-awareness is sothing everyone should possess," Lana replied calmly.
"I have enough of it. Perhaps soone who mocks others to compensate for her own miserable life should try acquiring so."
The woman’s expression twisted.
In the next instant, she reached out to grab Lana...
But before her hand could touch, she suddenly stumbled.
Her balance vanished as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet, and she fell awkwardly onto the floor.
Lana blinked in surprise.
Mr. Crow had intervened with psychic force.
She had been preparing to use a talisman herself, yet Mr. Crow had acted first, his fury flaring so intensely that he had directly tripped the woman without hesitation.
Lana glanced subtly toward him and raised her thumb in silent approval.
Mr. Crow, anwhile, felt as though his heart were being torn apart.
’How dare she try to touch Lana? How dare she even think of harming her? Such a well-behaved girl, and they treat her like this!’
The more he thought about it, the angrier he beca.
The curly-haired woman struggled back to her feet, legs trembling slightly. She glared at Lana with undisguised hatred.
"You are odious," she hissed. "Watch yourself."
Lana nodded casually, as though the warning ant nothing.
Her indifferent reaction made it clear to everyone present that she was not soone easily shaken.
The woman returned to her seat but continued staring at Lana’s back, as if she wished to burn a hole through it.
Lana did not even turn around.
A mont later, she overheard the woman whispering to another student with straight hair beside her.
"I want her out. Quinn should be the one here."
Only then did Lana understand.
’So this is about replacing soone... A petty struggle for position.’
She inhaled slowly, deciding not to argue further. There would be ti to settle matters later if necessary.
For now, her priority was to complete the exchange program properly.
She continued attending the lectures.
Everything remained uneventful until the final class of the day.
A man entered the room.
He was strikingly handso, carrying himself with calm authority. The mont Lana saw him, she instinctively straightened in her seat.
’He gives off the sa presence as Uncle...’ she realized.
At first glance, he seed approachable, even refined, and she found herself looking forward to his teaching.
During the lecture, he maintained a composed deanor. However, midway through, he began directing questions at Lana.
At first, she answered confidently.
Then the questions grew harder.
Then far harder.
Soon, they beca so complex that Lana could barely follow their structure.
The lecturer leaned slightly toward her, his expression stern.
"Your foundation is weak," he said. "You should revisit the basic texts."
Lana assud he was offering genuine advice and nodded respectfully.
At that exact mont, the entire class snickered.
The sound was low, but unmistakable.
Lana paused.
She turned and saw the smirks, the mocking glances, and the poorly concealed amusent.
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