Hu Chen led Hao Ming to Dormitory 2A—the farthest, quietest, and smallest dormitory in the Academy.
After the spacious avenues and majestic buildings Hao Ming had seen earlier, this place looked almost shabby. The dormitory sat at the foot of the mountains, as if deliberately pushed as far away from the rest of the Academy as possible.
About a dozen small wooden houses stood here. Over the years they'd grown covered in moss and climbing plants, as if nature itself were trying to hide them from prying eyes. A little way off stood a single stone structure—low, angular, looking more like an old warehouse than an academic building. All the rest of the space remained empty.
Trees grew along the perimeter, forming an enclosed circle. In the center—only a handful of buildings and open space.
Such was Dormitory 2A.
Hu Chen set Hao Ming down on the ground and let his gaze linger on the place for a moment. A warmth, mixed with nostalgia, flickered in his eyes. Fragments of old memories flashed before his mind's eye.
He smirked—and slapped Hao Ming sharply on the back.
—Boom!—Hao Ming staggered, his vision darkening, his back seeming to catch fire from the blow.
—Hao Ming,—Hu Chen said loudly.—This is your home now!
Hao Ming raised his head and slowly looked around.
—Home?
He hadn't heard that word in a very long time. So long that he couldn't even remember where or when he'd last had one. And yet, hearing it now, he felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth somewhere deep inside.
—Yes!—Hu Chen answered with a wide grin.—From this day on, this place is your home!
Hao Ming was silent. A second. Another. As if making a decision.
—Alright,—he said quietly.—This is my home.
Hu Chen looked at him closely and fell into thought.
—<
Two figures surfaced in his memory.
—<
Hu Chen scratched the back of his head.
—<
He looked at Hao Ming and decided mentally.
—<
By this point, Hu Chen's presence no longer caused Hao Ming the same tension. He turned to the old man and asked, somewhat uncertainly.
—Um... Can I ask why you brought me here?
—Ra-Ra-Ra!—Hu Chen laughed and raised his hand.
Hao Ming instinctively tensed, bracing for a blow, but instead of pain felt a warm palm rest on his head.
—A child shouldn't have to rack his brain over adult matters,—Hu Chen said. His voice was loud, but remarkably simple and kind.—Remember this. From today, I'm your teacher, your grandfather, and your family.
Hao Ming felt awkward. For the first time in a long while, he felt embarrassed.
—Family.....—he repeated, almost silently.
He didn't remember his parents. But for some reason he sensed—that word meant something very precious, yet at the same time it brought him unbearable pain, as if something were devouring him from within.
—Right then!—Hu Chen clapped his hands.—You can't start studying yet anyway. Year-end exams are just around the corner, then vacation, then a new school year. So we've got a little over two months to get you into shape!
He surveyed the dormitory once more and added.
—But first, kid... clean up around here. And don't even think about leaving. I'll find you anyway. Tools are in the stone building.
Having said that, Hu Chen simply vanished, leaving Hao Ming to his own devices.
Hao Ming looked around and let out a sigh of relief. Then he flopped onto his back and stared at the sky.
—Well... in some sense, I'm free.....
—Probably,—he added, not quite sure how to assess his situation.
The past few days had been overwhelming. He'd broken free from hell, ended up at a military base, then got literally yanked out of there, and now here he was—in a place whose name he didn't even know.
Hao Ming understood: right now he was simply drifting along with the current.
For ten years he'd fought for his life. Killed. Eaten monster flesh and drunk their blood.
He'd dreamed of leaving that place.
And now—he'd left it.
But now he didn't know what to do next.
—What do I want?..—he muttered.
—All I know how to do is survive and kill,—Hao Ming said quietly.
—But that's hardly a life. I just don't know what it's like, or how, to actually live.
He rose, stretched, and said, having made up his mind.
—Then I need to learn.
There were no shouts, no long deliberation. It was simply his decision. Hao Ming headed to the stone building for cleaning tools.
Hu Chen watched him from a distance. The old man smiled—and vanished completely.
Hao Ming had long forgotten how to clean. So the work dragged on late into the night. Fortunately, he didn't need sleep.
When he finished, he even felt something like pride. The buildings certainly didn't gleam with cleanliness, but they no longer looked abandoned. For the first time in a long while, Dormitory 2A resembled a place where one could actually live.
Night fell unnoticed. The air grew cooler. The sky cleared, and countless stars blazed across it. A full moon rose slowly.
Hao Ming stopped and lifted his head.
He gazed at the sky without blinking. In that moment his black eyes seemed to reflect the starry vault—as if the moon's cold light itself had poured into them.
—Beautiful,—he murmured.
—Ra-Ra-Ra!—Hu Chen's laughter tore through the silence without ceremony.
The old man walked closer, surveyed the cleaned dormitory, and grunted.
—Could be better. But... not bad.
—Good job!
The next instant, five large crates appeared beside them.
—Kid,—Hu Chen said.—Everything you need for living and studying is in here. Clothes, household items, a week's worth of food, bedding, and a couple of books.
Hu Chen swept his gaze over the little houses and added.
—Pick whichever one you like. Live wherever you want. I'll be gone about a week—things came up. Until I'm back, do whatever you want, but don't leave this place.
Hao Ming looked at the crates, then at Hu Chen.
—Thank you.
Hu Chen ruffled his hair.
—No need to thank me. It's my duty.
He turned around.
—Well, see ya.
Hu Chen vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared, leaving behind only trembling air and the echo of his laughter. Hao Ming didn't care where the old man had gone.
He walked slowly past the identical structures and chose the last house—the one standing at the very edge, almost right up against the forest. It was a simple building of stone and wood. No decorations, just bare walls and a sturdy roof. And yet—fully equipped with all conveniences. Which was strange: in every house, the utilities worked flawlessly, as if someone unseen were keeping watch over the place.
Hao Ming stepped inside and stopped.
In that moment, realization came.
There was no danger.
There were no monsters.
He didn't need to kill.
This feeling was deeply unfamiliar.
And—unexpectedly—repellent.
Hao Ming sat down on a chair and stared into empty space for a long while, until he understood.
He had nothing to do.
Then he remembered the boxes and carried them inside.
Several held food—enough for a whole week. Fruits and vegetables, whose smell and taste had long since faded from his memory. Too vivid. Too rich. Almost unreal, like precious gems.
There was meat too—but completely different. Nothing like the tough, sinewy flesh of monsters he was used to. Even raw, it looked softer, more appetizing. The smell was normal. Not repulsive.
The remaining boxes held clean clothes and shoes. Household items. Several sets of bedding. And books.
The books stirred no interest in him. He saw no use in reading. So he simply set them aside.
Hao Ming spent the entire night and the following day lying around in the house.
On the second and third days, he wandered the dormitory grounds aimlessly.
Solitude troubled him far less than the lack of anything to occupy himself with. It was too calm here. Too peaceful.
Sometimes a thought would surface that he felt uneasy in this place. But he brushed it aside.
Day four – five
Eventually, out of boredom, Hao Ming finally picked up the books.
He could read them. Words formed into meaning, phrases into information.
But he couldn't fully grasp everything.
He understood the basics: the structure of the Federation, simple laws, how the world worked. He flipped through several books about Soul Masters and Spirit Masters—and drew his own conclusions.
Spirit Beasts were the same as the monsters he'd killed for years.
Soul Masters were special people, but ultimately just strong people.
Battle Spirits and Spirit Abilities—tools and weapons.
Hao Ming had faced creatures capable of the impossible. So he took spirit abilities, battle spirits, and spirit beasts calmly, without enthusiasm.
As for Spirit Power—or any other energy described in the books...
For him, it all boiled down to one thing. Energy was fuel. Simply a resource, but with its own particular traits.
Day six – seven.
The silence of the walls began to press too heavily on him. Against Hu Chen's instructions, Hao Ming left the grounds of Dormitory 2A.
But he didn't head toward the Academy.
He went into the forest.
Tall trees, dense vegetation, birdsong—all of it unexpectedly drew him in. He went deeper, exploring the forest.
Suddenly, figures flickered before him.
Rabbits.
A mother and two babies.
He lunged forward and caught up to them with ease. Hao Ming studied them with interest, drawn in and puzzled by their behavior.
The mother did everything to draw his attention away from her young. She flailed her legs, tried to strike him, as if trying to attract his attention.
—<
But Hao Ming quickly understood.
—<
Hao Ming froze.
—Why?
He looked at the mother rabbit and said quietly, as if she could understand him.
—Why would such a weak creature be willing to give up its life for them?
The mother rabbit, of course, didn't answer. Hao Ming stood there for several minutes, studying this strange display of self-sacrifice, then slowly opened his fingers. The mother and her babies vanished into the bushes instantly.
Over the ten years spent in the Rocky Mountains, Hao Ming had developed a few rules for himself.
One of them went like this:
Don't kill without reason.
Only kill in two cases—if attacked, or if hungry.
This rule was born from his own mistake.
For a long time he'd killed indiscriminately. As a result, he'd nearly wiped out the entire population of Black Hounds—they'd ended up on the brink of extinction.
Back then he hadn't cared: one species fewer, one species more.
But later he ran into the consequences.
The fragile balance of the Rocky Mountains had been disrupted. It had already begun collapsing with Hao Ming's arrival, but the disappearance of the Black Hounds was the final blow.
The perfect food chain fell apart.
The monsters grew even more feral. Species vanished one after another. In the end, only the strongest, the toughest, the most elusive—and the smallest—remained.
For Hao Ming, that period became the hardest of all.
Every creature evolved rapidly, and every day he found himself on the brink of death. Sometimes he couldn't even eat properly, forced to eat raw meat because there was no time to make a fire.
Only after several years did things begin to return to normal.
And it was then that he learned the cost of his mistake.