Chapter 214 The Sixteenth Day of Entering a Rebirth Novel

Chapter 214 Day Sixteen of Transmigrating into a Rebirth Novel

Comments Section:

"Holy shit! Laws, Changes, Creatures, Stars, Earth! The National Preceptor is serious?! He can actually cultivate immortality?!"

"Is he actually an immortal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is he really an immortal?"

"Otherwise, it's hard to believe he's just lying!"

"Wait... I'm getting more and more confused. The mutual interaction of primordial qi that constitutes all things... governing movement, where light comes from... isn't this fucking physics?! (Shocked face.jpg)"

"Damn! Yeah! Elements combining, separating, transforming—metal, stone, water, plants—that's chemistry!"

"Fuck! (literally 'grass' as a plant) The growth, reproduction, circulation, and balance of living things... That's biology!"

"The movements of the stars—that's astronomy!"

"The earth's bones and veins are fucking geography! The feng shui diagram is probably about geological structures and ecosystems, right?! (Biting hand.jpg)"

"Huh???"

"Ahhh???"

"Is this for real?! Where the hell have I ended up?!"

"Mystery solved! The National Preceptor An Yi is neither reborn nor an immortal cultivator! He's a fucking transmigrator! And he's a STEM major transmigrator, no less!"

"Maybe he even transmigrated into a novel, otherwise how could he know about the drought?"

"Great, that explains everything now!"

"So this novel finally shows its true colors: a transmigration male lead paired with a rebirth female lead!"

"...But the female lead wasn't selected! (Innocent face) (Covering mouth with a giggle)"

"Female lead: Now I'm feeling regret, so much regret!"

"But the female lead adjusts fast—she's over it right away. Damn impressive!"

"I'm still rooting for the masked guy..."

"..."

An Yi stood on the high platform, facing the overwhelming gazes of shock, awe, and fanaticism, still wearing that gentle, faint smile.

The wind made his black sleeves flap and rustle loudly, making him seem like he could ascend to immortality at any moment.

He also supported the masked man.

He knew he could now sow the seeds.

Changing the course of this world might start with these thirty-odd students.

His gaze casually swept across the new disciples below, then withdrew.

Huo Huai felt his gaze, and his body instantly tensed like iron, his heart pounding like a drum. He hurriedly lowered his head, only daring to stare at the tips of his own boots. The cold, hard lines of his profile even showed a trace of helplessness.

A nearly imperceptible glint of amusement flickered in An Yi's eyes.

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After the disciple selection banquet ended, the National Preceptor An Yi's exposition on the five subjects—"Laws," "Changes," "Creatures," "Stars," and "Earth"—had long since departed from its original form, spread far and wide by word of mouth from those present, embellished and exaggerated into something increasingly mystical.

In the markets, teahouses, and taverns, people whispered among themselves, vividly describing how the National Preceptor had spoken profound truths that revealed the principles of heaven and earth, as if obtaining his true teachings would immediately enable them to summon wind and rain, control thunder, or even become an immortal on the spot.

The thirty-some selected disciples, along with their families, were overjoyed and felt proud to be associated.

In particular, the two young boys who were previously destitute and illiterate found their homes suddenly crowded with visitors overnight.

Many shrewd merchants came with generous gifts to "invest," euphemistically calling it "supporting talents," but in truth, they hoped these "rare commodities" could put in a good word for them before the National Preceptor or remember the kindness of this timely assistance upon achieving success.

The two boys, never having seen such a spectacle, were terrified. Yet they seized every opportunity to frantically learn to read and study etiquette, afraid of wasting this heaven-sent opportunity and also afraid of embarrassing their teacher.

As for those who failed the selection, especially a few proud and self-proclaimed scions of learned families, they inevitably faced reproach, whether open or hidden, and looks of deep disappointment from their elders upon returning home.

A nameless anger burned within them, and in private, they harbored an indescribable jealousy and contempt for those "damn lucky bastards" from commoner and cold families.

"Just wait and see what they'll amount to!" They muttered similar sour grapes repeatedly.

On the first day of classes, the autumn light was fine, the sky high and the clouds thin.

Clear sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling into the spacious and bright main hall, casting mottled shadows on the floor.

The thirty-odd new disciples had already suppressed their excitement and anxiety. According to the prearranged seating, they sat upright, their postures formal.

Not a sound in the hall, only the faint breathing of those present.

Their ages varied widely, from twelve- or thirteen-year-olds to young adults in their twenties. Their clothing differed, from silks and satins to rough hemp robes washed to near whiteness, creating a sharp and strange contrast.

But at this moment, regardless of their background, their eyes all shone with the same intense curiosity and eager anticipation. They fixed their gazes on the doorway, waiting for their teacher's arrival.

Huo Huai sat near the back.

He was tall and robust, and even while seated, he stood a full half-head taller than the surrounding youths who had not yet fully grown, making him stand out awkwardly.

His back was as straight as a pine, his hands clenched into fists, resting on his knees, his knuckles turning white from excessive force.

His cold, stern face betrayed no expression, his thin lips tightly pressed together, but his eyes kept darting toward the door.

In his mind, he was repeatedly rehearsing and refining—when he met the National Preceptor, how should he apologize?

Should he kneel on one knee to show solemnity, or directly clasp his fists and bow?

How should he phrase the apology to show regret without sounding rude?

"I, this student, offended you before, though not on purpose. I beg you, Teacher, to lift the curse..."

No, that would directly accuse the National Preceptor of cursing him! Too rude!

"I, this student, have recently been experiencing strange things in my body. I heard that you, Teacher, have divine powers..."

That's even worse!

Just the thought of facing An Yi up close made Huo Huai's heart race uncontrollably. A wave of heat rushed to his face and ears, and he could only take deep breaths, using sheer willpower to suppress this annoying restlessness.

Just as his thoughts were in a tangled mess, the sound of very light footsteps came closer.

Everyone's breath involuntarily caught.

A slender figure appeared at the doorway, silhouetted against the autumn sunlight streaming in from outside, his outline edged with a hazy, dazzling gold—like a celestial being descending to the mortal world.

As he stepped into the hall with unhurried grace, the light played across his form, revealing a face that seemed otherworldly: brows like painted strokes, skin like polished jade, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark Daoist robe only accentuated his cool, ethereal air.

"Greetings, Master!"

After a brief silence, the disciples, as if waking from a dream, rose one after another and bowed respectfully.

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