Chapter 49: Credits

“Alright, we’ll stop here for today.”

At the podium, the old wizard dispersed the magical models and floating runic text he had been outlining with mana. They vanished into nothingness in an instant.

His gaze swept over Su Yun. Those deep, unfathomable eyes seemed to peer straight through her origins.

“You’re Mo Qingqing’s disciple, aren’t you? Her class has already ended—she should be looking for you now.”

“Thank you, Teacher. Goodbye.”

Carrying over habits from her previous life, Su Yun bowed respectfully, then quickly left the office.

After she was gone, the old wizard watched her disappear through the doorway, stroking his graying beard as he nodded in deep satisfaction.

What a fine child.

Exceptionally talented, diligent in her studies—and most rare of all, possessed of genuine humility.

She was leagues better than those so-called “second-generation Origin Holders” who looked down on everyone else.

It seemed that although this academy had only just opened, it would still be able to uncover quite a few unpolished gems.

Su Yun didn’t dare waste a second. The moment she left the office, she headed straight for the teaching building where Mo Qingqing was.

When she arrived, she just happened to see Mo Qingqing coming down the stairs. Dressed in an elegant formal gown that traced her perfect curves, she stood out brilliantly among the crowd.

“Master…”

Su Yun hesitated for a moment, then quickened her pace and trotted over. Like a golden retriever, she wrapped her arms around Mo Qingqing’s waist and buried her face in the soft fabric of her gown.

This is the perfect chance to deepen the bond and solidify my progress in acting cute!

Su Yun squeezed her eyes shut, nerves stretched taut, already prepared to be slapped flying.

But fortunately—she’d gambled right.

Mo Qingqing merely reached out and gently rubbed her fluffy head.

Su Yun secretly breathed a sigh of relief, then rubbed her cheek against Mo Qingqing’s side, letting out a contented little hum.

It seemed that after all this effort, this level of close-contact affection was now completely acceptable.

Which meant the day she could jump around on Mo Qingqing’s belly wasn’t far off anymore.

This is important…

“Let’s go check out the cafeteria,” Mo Qingqing said, feeling the fluffy warmth at her waist.

After a full day of studying, petting a fluffy little head really did lift one’s mood.

She and Su Yun were completely different. Mo Qingqing had been attending higher-intensity intermediate classes, with no breaks in between, maintaining peak mental focus the entire time.

She was starving.

“Mhm.”

Su Yun nodded her fluffy little head and obediently followed behind Mo Qingqing.

The academy cafeteria’s food was mediocre—barely better than plain bread, just enough to fill one’s stomach.

And since it had only just opened and lacked experience, the dining environment on the first floor was especially bad: noisy, chaotic, with greasy tables and chairs everywhere.

Though she was hungry, Mo Qingqing only forced down a few bites before frowning slightly and setting her utensils aside.

Su Yun, on the other hand, had no complaints. For someone like her, who often went hungry or full at random and had spent years scrambling just to find food, a hot meal was already a luxurious indulgence.

So she ate her fill—and even polished off Mo Qingqing’s leftovers.

After eating, the two began wandering around the academy.

Mo Qingqing stopped by the Parallel Battle Chamber, only to find the line alone stretching down the entire corridor.

Seeing that, she immediately lost interest.

What a joke—who has the patience to stand in line for that?

She’d much rather have Su Yun come early tomorrow after class to save her a good spot.

Most of the other facilities hadn’t opened yet, but near the academy gates, a massive notice board had been set up in a highly visible location.

“Credit system?”

With a casual wave of her hand, Mo Qingqing projected a magical screen filled with densely packed academy rules. She skimmed through them quickly.

Starting tomorrow, all academy facilities would require credits.

Even the cafeteria—only the first floor, the worst one everyone ate at today, would remain free.

If you wanted good food or a better dining environment, you had to pay credits.

Credits could be earned through methods that would open later, such as the Trial Tower and secret realm explorations.

At the same time, teachers would evaluate students during class based on performance and learning outcomes, awarding credits according to the results.

At the very end of the notice, written in bold, eye-catching text, was an announcement:
—Next week, an activity plaza would open, allowing students to rent shops and conduct commercial activities.

In short, whether gold coins, silver coins, or Aon—none of the external currencies would be accepted within the academy.

If you wanted access to advanced magic, entertainment projects, or high-grade cultivation facilities, you had to pay credits.

Even eating something decent required credits.

Mo Qingqing squinted slightly as she read.

“This… isn’t this basically throwing us straight back to square one?” she muttered.

“Why did I even enroll in this academy?”

As she spoke, she shook her head again.

“…No, that’s not right. Studying here really does have its benefits.”

She could clearly feel that just on the first day of school—after listening to a single lecture—her bottleneck had loosened considerably.

With more instruction, and by asking more of her lingering questions, she might be able to find an opportunity for breakthrough.

This wasn’t because Lin Mo’s teaching ability was lacking—after all, she was a Time Origin Holder.

Rather, the old scholars invited by the academy had dabbled in every field of magic. Their knowledge systems were vast and complete.

No matter what questions students asked, they could start from the fundamentals and explain everything step by step, in clear, meticulous detail—leaving listeners enlightened.

Lin Mo, despite her power, only had a shallow understanding of the Law of Life.

Coupled with her inherently lazy nature, she rarely conducted experiments and almost never took the initiative to analyze or deduce things.

When Mo Qingqing had questions, Lin Mo often just told her to figure it out herself.

Perhaps when it came to pure mana cultivation or realm breakthroughs, these teachers couldn’t compare to Lin Mo.

But for foundational theory—magical principles, elemental composition, energy transformation, and other underlying mechanics—Lin Mo fell far behind them.

It was said that among the instructors the academy had hired at great expense were several super-ancient archmages who had lived for thousands of years.

They too had once suffered oppression, unable to publicly present their groundbreaking theories, forced to research quietly in the shadows.

But the depth and breadth of their knowledge were not something that recently risen witches and wizards—those desperate for quick power—could ever match.

The reason these masters were tasked with teaching the basics first was precisely because the ruling powers believed modern witches and wizards were far too impatient, lacking solid foundations and brimming with restlessness.

If this continued, achieving anything great would be difficult—let alone producing someone capable of surpassing the existing Origin Holders.