Jumanji lay on his bed, immersed in reviewing those scattered memories that had stormed his mind.
There was one question that continued to trouble him, one he could not answer: the white-haired boy.
He too had obtained the essence of the Twilight Leech.
And Jumanji knew very well—there was only one way to use that essence… and only the two of them knew it.
But the real problem was the purpose.
Did that boy possess another embryo for his farm?
Or did he have a different method of using the Twilight Leech?
The uncertainty gnawed at him.
As he continued diving deeper into the depths of his memories, he finally found the thread he had been searching for.
But the shock froze him in place.
What surfaced in his mind was not merely fragments of the distant past… but visions—shards of a future that had yet to come.
Jumanji frowned deeply.
A heavy silence filled the room as he muttered to himself,
"So… this is what the future holds…"
He did not move from his spot.
He remained still throughout the entire day and night, examining those memories with extreme precision.
That knowledge was a treasure worth more than thousands of volumes.
Even if he had spent decades studying, he would never have reached such depth of understanding.
But through the Leech of Vision, the impossible had become possible.
The path before him was now terrifyingly clear.
A rooster crowed, announcing the dawn of a new day.
It was time for Jumanji to prepare to head to the Bamboo Academy run by the tribe.
He glanced briefly at the window, then slowly rose, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Sleep had abandoned him long ago—since the day he entered the spiritual farm.
He gathered himself and walked toward an old wooden wardrobe, quickly changing his clothes.
He had once worn a pale gray robe.
Now, he chose a deep black one.
His usual appearance had returned.
Even the tear left by the bear's claw on his clothes had been repaired.
A thought briefly crossed his mind—
Was the woman he was supposed to call "mother" the one who had taken care of it?
Or had it happened in some other way?
But he quickly dismissed the thought.
Such details no longer mattered.
The Bamboo Academy was not just a place of learning.
It resembled a fortified stronghold, stretching across a vast area at the northern edge of the tribe's territory.
It was named after the surrounding green bamboo forests, whose roots were said to feed on the excess spiritual energy of the trainees.
When Jumanji arrived, the main gate stood before him—carved from ebony wood.
Above it glowed the tribe's emblem faintly:
The Experia Tribe.
And beneath it, a bamboo leaf.
Beyond the gate stretched training grounds paved with solid white stone.
Dust rose into the air from early morning practice.
The academy was divided into several sections based on the "rank of the spiritual farm."
Meditation Halls:
Circular buildings with pointed roofs, designed to absorb spiritual energy from copper cores and channel it toward the students.
Duel Arenas:
Wide arenas surrounded by energy barriers, preventing spiritual attacks from rebounding toward spectators.
Bamboo Library:
A towering structure housing scrolls and manuscripts that detailed cultivation methods and combat techniques.
The atmosphere was tense and competitive.
Every corner of the academy reminded students of one thing—
Power was the only currency recognized here.
As Jumanji took his first steps into the courtyard, he felt the students' gazes follow him.
Their looks carried disdain and contempt—because he had come from the red gate.
Jumanji ignored them completely.
To him, they were nothing more than passing noise.
He walked steadily toward a group of youths who had shared the spiritual farm trial with him.
They were seated cross-legged in a circle, listening intently.
At the center sat a man in his fifties.
He wore a green robe threaded with gold, reflecting his status.
His hair, streaked with white, added to his aura of authority.
He was deeply focused on explaining the fundamentals of cultivation and its strict rules.
Jumanji quietly slipped in and sat in the back rows, preferring to remain unnoticed.
Although these explanations offered him nothing new after everything he had learned from his memories, he understood that being absent at such a critical time would draw suspicion.
But hiding was not enough.
Some eyes were waiting for him to fall.
His gaze met Kairos and his companions.
Their expressions twisted with disgust the moment they saw him.
A malicious whisper spread among them.
Then one voice broke the silence with a single word that summed up their opinion:
"Trash."
The teacher's movement stopped instantly.
His sharp gaze shifted toward the source of the voice.
Silence fell—heavier than words.
In a calm yet crushing tone, he said,
"Control your tongue, boy. This place is for cultivation… not for exchanging nonsense."
The boy shrank back, swallowing his words under the pressure of that gaze.
But his eyes still burned with resentment as he stared at Jumanji.
The others were no different.
The teacher's warning had not extinguished the flames of contempt within them.
Jumanji was not the only one trying to remain unnoticed.
Among the students, he spotted Mahinor—the white-haired boy.
He seemed to be following the same strategy.
Silence was the common ground between them during this first month.
Everyone was required to attend daily lessons to learn the basics of cultivation.
Each of them was waiting for the moment they would carve their own path in the world of power.
The teacher broke the silence again, his voice deep and authoritative:
"Alright… close your eyes. Let your awareness guide you inward—toward the depths where your Spirit Well resides."
Before they could comply, one of the boys interrupted with confusion:
"What is the Spirit Well, teacher?"
A calm smile appeared on the man's face.
"That is precisely why I asked you to close your eyes. True sight begins from within."
The students hurried to obey.
The teacher continued in a steady, instructive tone:
"You all succeeded yesterday in awakening your spiritual farms.
But you are still at the beginning of a harsh path.
The Spirit Well you are now exploring is the first stage of the first rank in the ladder of power.
And know this—the first rank consists of five stages.
The well is its foundation."
Another boy asked softly, still with his eyes closed:
"What about the seed at the bottom of the well? What is its role?"
The teacher replied seriously:
"The Spirit Seed is the core of the well—its fuel.
Just as the well is a fundamental pillar of the spiritual farm alongside the embryo.
Without the pulse of that seed, the well is meaningless.
And without the well, the farm cannot grow."
Another student asked eagerly:
"How does the farm expand, teacher?"
The teacher clasped his hands before his chest and answered:
"As you know, farms at the beginning are divided into three qualities:
Poor, Medium, and Excellent.
Each has its own limits that govern space and time within it."
He continued:
Poor Quality:
An area of four square kilometers.
Time flows differently—one day in our world equals three days inside.
Medium Quality:
Six square kilometers.
Time accelerates further—one day equals five inside.
Excellent Quality:
Eight square kilometers.
A massive time gap—one day here grants nine days of cultivation there.
After hearing this, a confident smile appeared on Kairos's face.
Even with his eyes closed, he spoke clearly:
"Then it truly deserves to stand at the pinnacle of the cultivation world."
But the teacher interrupted him sharply:
"Who told you that?"
"Do you think Excellent Quality is the limit of ambition?"
"There exists a fourth rank—one that surpasses all three combined.
It is twice as powerful."
Shock spread through the group.
One of the boys asked eagerly:
"What is it called, teacher?"
The teacher replied calmly:
"We will continue the lesson first. You will learn that in time."
Silence followed.
But it did not last.
A suppressed laugh broke it.
It was Tarik—one of Kairos's close followers.
He opened one eye and looked at the teacher with doubt and arrogance.
"Excuse me, teacher… but isn't this fourth rank just a myth?"
"I've read in my family's records that Excellent Quality is the limit."
"How could something exist that doubles eight kilometers and nine days?"
"That sounds… illogical."
Kairos's gaze burned in agreement.
The idea of something surpassing his "excellence" clearly offended his pride.
The teacher's fingers stopped moving.
A sudden pressure filled the room.
Breathing became difficult.
He looked at Tarik coldly and said:
"Your logic is limited by what you have read."
"The world does not care about the limits of your family."
"The fourth rank is not a myth."
"It is a fact."
"Out of a hundred million… one may possess it."
"It is not obtained."
"It is not inherited."
"It is created with the individual."
The teacher's gaze shifted—unintentionally—toward the back rows.
Toward Jumanji.
Jumanji still had his eyes closed.
He sat motionless, like a corpse in a coffin.
But at the corner of his lips…
A faint smile appeared.
The smile of someone who not only knew of the fourth rank—
But understood it.
The teacher continued firmly:
"Now, close your eyes fully."
"We will speak about expansion."
"This is more important than your idle fantasies."
He resumed:
"Now that you understand farm quality, let us return to the main question—how does the farm grow?"
"Each of you, upon awakening your farm, gains a Spirit Well and a black Spirit Seed at its core."
"This seed is the engine. It absorbs spiritual energy and stores it within the well."
"At the beginning, it has only one leaf."
"But the path does not end there."
"When enough energy accumulates and the well can no longer contain it…"
"A controlled spiritual explosion occurs."
"The well transforms into a pond."
"And the seed grows a second leaf."
"This marks the second stage of the first rank."
He continued, his tone growing more intense:
"When the pond can no longer contain the energy…"
"It explodes and becomes a lake."
"A third leaf grows."
"The third stage."
"Then the lake becomes a vast sea—with the fourth leaf."
"And at the peak of the first rank…"
"When the sea can no longer endure…"
"It explodes."
"And becomes an ocean."
"The fifth leaf is completed."
The teacher paused briefly before continuing:
"When even the ocean reaches its limit…"
"A great explosion occurs."
"This breaks the restraints."
"And marks your entry into the second rank."
He added:
"This transformation is not just about the size of the energy reservoir."
"The farm itself expands."
"And time within it accelerates further."
"Granting you more time to cultivate."
He continued explaining the higher transitions:
"When the first rank ocean collapses…"
"The black fades."
"And a new seed is born from the remnants."
"A light blue seed—with one leaf."
"This marks the beginning of the second rank."
"The same cycle repeats."
"Well… pond… lake… sea… ocean."
He continued:
"When the second rank ocean reaches its peak and explodes…"
"A pink seed is born."
"This marks the third rank."
"And if one reaches the end of the third rank…"
"And triggers its explosion…"
"A red Spirit Seed appears."
"With one leaf."
"This marks the threshold of the fourth rank."
A deep silence filled the space.
Then the teacher ended calmly:
"You may open your eyes now."
End of Chapter