Though Thilan had finally gained some awareness of her own talents and appearance, she was still at a loss about how to recruit members for her club.
Coming up with a random excuse wasn’t difficult, but she didn’t want to be so haphazard.
Such half-hearted actions felt wrong to her. She didn’t like being treated that way herself and didn’t want to do the same to others.
So, she thought, it would be better to create a proper and formal club charter. Something like “learning and improving together”? But that seemed too plain and dull.
Sitting in the activity room, Thilan leaned against the table and gazed out the window. One side of the room had large, pale-gray floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass was semi-transparent and one-way—like a mirror from the outside but like wearing sunglasses when looking out.
Given that the club was named “Twilight Ensemble,” perhaps it should follow a music-related path or explore the mysteries of ancient knowledge. Both would fit the theme.
In terms of music, Thilan had recently filled in many gaps in her knowledge while at Swallow Garden Academy: music theory, the characteristics and basic playing techniques of various instruments, and even composition.
If there were a skill system to measure her abilities, she might currently be at “Music Theory Lv. 5,” “Singing Lv. 4 (without using the Songstress Talent),” and “Violin Lv. 4.” With full use of her Songstress Talent, her singing level could reach level 7.
For comparison, professional singers in society ranged as follows: lead singers of underground bands at level 3–4, online idol singers at level 4–6, and Starlight-Grade Songstresses generally at level 6–8. Within the Federation, a level 8 singing was nearly the pinnacle, unless a new Blazing Sun-Grade Songstress emerged.
Should she pursue the music path? Thilan shook her head. Lady Isabella had once advised her that she was too young to step into the Songstress field too early, as it wasn’t just about music but also deeply tied to politics.
She had already participated in a band performance at Swallow Garden Academy, so she decided not to delve into the same field at Edess Academy—otherwise, she’d be too busy managing both.
That left the path of ancient knowledge and mysteries. She did have an interest in history, partly because her talent resembled the ancient witches and partly due to her curiosity about the past: the beautiful creations of old times, the grand epics of previous eras, and the forgotten stories buried in the dust.
Her curiosity and yearning stemmed largely from a certain unique ghostly teacher. From that teacher, Thilan had glimpsed knowledge and events hidden from the Federation’s records. Yet frustratingly, that ghostly princess always spoke cryptically, revealing only parts of the truth and leaving out the rest, claiming it was to foster imagination and fantasy.
As her thoughts drifted to her teacher, Thilan suddenly remembered something and stood up.
That’s it. Perhaps she could use this as a hook to attract club members.
She grabbed a blank notebook from a nearby drawer, opened it, and began writing quickly with a pen. First, she drafted an introduction to the club and outlined its primary activities.
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[Twilight Ensemble]
Mission: A club dedicated to exploring ancient mysteries, rare artifacts, exotic cuisines, poetry, and legends.
Benefits: Members can enjoy the ancient ice-elf beverage “Four-Fragrance Ice Dew” and access three Gold-Grade ancient spells.
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As for regular activities, they would likely revolve around research and discussions. Thilan paused, her thoughts coalescing into a general idea. She felt the details could be refined later with input from the members.
Her knowledge of mainstream modern Federation magic was limited, but she had a thorough understanding of ancient texts and spells. This was thanks to her ghostly teacher, who had shown her legendary wars and how grand spells shaped the world, and also due to the complete inheritance of the Azure Lotus Sword Palace she had obtained from the divine sword in Thousand Towers City.
In other words, she had a general grasp of pre-Third-Epoch magical practices, swordsmanship, transcendent pathways, and spells—especially the techniques of the Ice Elves, the Mercury Dynasty, and the Azure Phoenix lineage. However, limited by time, energy, and her own level, she had only practiced a small fraction.
Though she had memorized much, fully mastering it would take a long time. Thilan shook her head and set her pen down.
This should suffice for now. She would see if there were like-minded individuals at the academy; if not, she’d think of other strategies.
With her draft completed, it was time to post the recruitment notice. She stood up, walked to a service terminal, and connected to the academy’s AI. In no time, a beautifully designed poster was created—AI had nearly completely replaced humans for such simple designs.
The printer began to hum, and Thilan sat nearby, waiting patiently. However, the thought of putting up posters and making online posts gave her a strange feeling. It wasn’t fear or nervousness, but in the past, she would never have done something like this voluntarily.
“I’ve really changed a lot,” Thilan murmured, shaking her head. She picked up the freshly printed posters and left the activity room.
Today, Annelie wasn’t with her, as she was out shopping for equipment for the activity room. Ranbell wouldn’t return to school until tomorrow, so Thilan had to handle this alone.
She went to the academy’s student common areas and began putting up posters on the bulletin boards. Occasionally, when other students passed by, she would hold her poster and pretend to admire the scenery, only continuing her task once they had left.
“Phew, this should be enough,” she thought.
After posting nearly 20 flyers, Thilan stood beneath the last bulletin board, feeling slightly more relaxed. Her gaze wandered to the other postings on the board. Aside from hers, there were also recruitment flyers from other clubs and handwritten posters from interest groups.
In such an era of extreme information accessibility, it seemed odd that such simple flyers hadn’t become obsolete. However, the truth was that precisely because information was so overwhelming, people often ignored anything irrelevant.
For example, pop-up ads while browsing forums or flashy, over-the-top sidebars. No matter how eye-catching those were, most people still ignored them entirely, not even reading the content.
This was because such things had become synonymous with junk information in people’s minds.
Conversely, something close at hand—like a black-and-white handwritten notice posted inside an elevator—would almost always catch someone’s attention.
[Heavenly Resonance! The strongest band in Edess Academy’s history is recruiting! Come, let’s shout out loud and shake the world!]
[Seeking rare and exotic plant seeds. If you have any, contact the ID below. — Allen]
[On the night of December 17th, the “Hat and Dagger Club” will face off against the “Rain Veil Club” from Crystal Grid Academy at Twin Serpent Bridge!]
[Planning a group trip to the Purple Sand Crystal Star Region during the holiday. Sign up if interested.]
[I specialize in left-handed swordsmanship, Blade Sequence 5, and am looking for a long-term sparring partner. Willing to share battle experiences and two rapid-movement techniques.]
Thilan’s eyes scanned over these notices one by one, gleaning insights from them.
Compared to Swallow Garden Academy, where class-based activities were the norm, Edess Academy followed a completely different model. It encouraged students to form their own groups, find like-minded peers, and study or research together. Activities organized by the school were rarely based on class divisions; instead, they revolved around clubs or individual participation.
“Every student should break away from the mundane masses and focus on their passions. Your companions should naturally share your direction. This way, you can avoid meaningless conformity and reduce wasted time and energy.”
This had always been Edess Academy’s philosophy. As such, the school rarely enforced collective activities by class, instead advocating for individuality and inspiring students to proactively explore different possibilities.
“If you’ve made it to Edess Academy, it means you are elite, chosen after rigorous selection. If you still live aimlessly, simply following the crowd, you’re wasting the academy’s resources.”
This quote from a former principal still circulated widely within the school.
After finishing her tasks for the day and returning to her dorm to rest, another golden-haired girl leapt briskly off a hovering vehicle, striding purposefully toward the academy.
“Evony, remember to stay in touch with your mom. If you’re upset, talk about it. And don’t hold it in if someone bullies you,” a noblewoman draped in a fur-trimmed cloak called out from inside the vehicle, her tone laden with concern.
“I know, you don’t need to keep repeating it,” Evony replied, slightly exasperated. She didn’t even look back as she walked toward the school.
Though she understood her parents’ good intentions, their constant concern only exacerbated her frustration. Did they think she was so fragile? Already anxious about advancing to the next sequence, their incessant questions only deepened her irritation.
After walking for several minutes, the voices behind her faded, and the surrounding environment grew quieter. Only then did Evony feel her mood lighten slightly, awakening from her earlier vexation.
“Is it evening already?” She stopped and gazed at the sky outside the corridor. The sky was painted with purples and reds, a fiery sunset filling the horizon with breathtaking beauty.
Unconsciously, her mood improved. Tossing her head lightly, she continued walking, though her pace was no longer hurried.
Since it was Thursday, the academy was less crowded. Otherwise, if any male student spotted the “Goldfish Princess” Evony walking alone, someone would surely muster the courage to approach her.
The girl, with her wide, single-ponytail golden hair and a flowing white robe with wide sleeves, moved with grace. The delicate fabric of her dress—a rare T3-grade Drifting Silk—fluttered softly as she walked, like a goldfish swimming through water.
This was one of her favorite outfits, made from a fabric so rare that even in Edess Academy, only a few families could afford it.
After walking a little further, the “Fiery Goldfish Princess” stopped in front of a bulletin board, scanning the notices.
“Heavenly Resonance”? Never heard of it. Not into rock music.
“Seeking rare seeds.” Allen’s still obsessed with plants.
“December 17th duel between two clubs.” That might be worth watching.
The travel plans and sparring notices, however, received only a cursory glance before she moved on to the final, newly posted flyer.
“Twilight Ensemble Recruitment? Ice elf drinks and three ancient secret arts? Now that’s interesting.”
Though she had no time or energy to join a club herself—her current priority was advancing her transcendent sequence—this club’s offerings intrigued her. While it wasn’t her thing, she knew someone who would likely be interested.
She quickly snapped a photo of the flyer with her personal terminal and sent it to her friend.
Soon, she received a reply.
“Is this flyer from our school?”
“Of course. I just saw it on the bulletin board, but I don’t know much about it. If you’re interested, you should contact them directly.”
After replying, Evony put away her terminal and continued walking.
Tonight, she didn’t plan to return to her dorm to rest but instead intended to head to the training room for meditation and another attempt to imprint her sigil patterns, aiming for a Sequence 4 advancement.
Normally, first-year Federation students still deliberated over advancing to Sequence 2. Those who had already done so in middle school would spend their first year consolidating their foundational knowledge, only considering Sequence 3 advancements in their second or third year. For most, Sequence 4 was a post-graduation goal.
For professionals in the market, Sequence 4 marked competence, Sequence 5 denoted exceptional talent, and Sequence 6 signified core elites—upper-middle-class figures in society.
But for someone as gifted as Evony, her ambitions far surpassed those thresholds. Sequence 4 wasn’t her endgame; it was merely her starting point.
Yet this “starting point” had kept her stuck for nearly a year. Frustrated, she had even quarreled with her family recently, leading to the scene at the car earlier.
“Got it. I’ll reach out to them later. Thanks for the heads-up, Evony. Are you still stressed about advancing? Want to come over and relax?”
Seeing the response, Evony’s lips curved into a faint smile. But shaking her head, she quickly replied.
“No thanks. You’re a walking ‘central heater,’ always comforting everyone. I’ll pass on joining the crowd.”
Her friend had always been immensely popular with women—from adoring elder sisters to confessing classmates. Having grown up together, she knew his charm too well. Visiting him now would likely spark a slew of rumors among jealous admirers the next day.
Decisively, she declined his offer, teasing him with a few parting jabs before putting her terminal away.
Keep pushing forward, Evony, she told herself, brushing back her hair.
Golden strands shimmered with subtle radiance, their ends glowing orange-red. Tiny sparks scattered faintly in the twilight corridor, a beautiful sight.
Lifting her foot, the “Goldfish Princess” leapt lightly forward. In a single stride, she crossed more than ten meters, her flaming golden hair leaving a trail of embers that stretched to the corridor’s end and beyond.