Herbology: Ores and their applications

Ling Er whom I had talked to previously was going to the east tower, each dorm level had classes in different areas of the school. Only Dorm Lexus and Dorm Phoenix have introductory classes in the South Towers.

There were 3 floors all of them quite disconnected from each other. 

We followed the abundance of students headed towards the second floor to a very large hall with at least 50 seats, all descending toward the ground floor.

At the far end of the hallway, a group of second-year students were having a class. I peered through the circular window frame on the door just long enough to observe the competitive atmosphere within the room.

As I was pushed along with a group of students, Luo Luo and I settled into the second row of seats, as a group of students had already occupied our preferred spots.

These students were bubbling over with energy, bustling about, and chattering loudly and vigorously in contrast to the second-years.

An air of eager anticipation filled the room as everyone found their seats, four boys taking their places beside me.

All of a sudden the broad chestnut oak door at the entrance bellowed open a screech.

A tall, slender man entered, instantly silencing the room with a mere tap of his heel. He had a thin, wiry moustache placed on his face and possessed eyes that were both gentle and sharp, surveying each student with careful scrutiny.

As he made his way to the front of the room, the students' whispers tapered off, replaced by a palpable sense of curiosity and apprehension. Finally reaching the lectern, he cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the now-silent room. 

His voice, when he spoke, was a mix of condescending weariness and authority that left no room for argument.

"Hello, first-year gremlins I am Mr. Chen," he began, his deep slow voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

The nickname, 'gremlin' sparked a few chuckles from the boys next to me, but they died quickly under the weight of his gaze.

"This is the introductory lesson, and I want to establish some ground rules so we can have a pleasant time together."

His eyes swept over the room, taking in every face, every detail, as if committing them to memory.

The air seemed to crackle with anticipation as the students leaned forward, eager to hear what rules this imposing figure would set.

"First rule," he said, raising a finger for emphasis, "No tardiness. Punctuality is a virtue we will uphold in this class." His voice made it clear there was no argument, and a murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

Students nodded solemnly as if understanding that this was not a request but an expectation.

"Second rule," he continued, his voice growing even firmer, "Respect. Respect for your fellow classmates, for the material we will cover, and most importantly, for me." His gaze lingered on each student, as if daring them to challenge this request.

A hush settled over the room, the weight of his words sinking in. It was clear that this was a man who demanded nothing but the best.

"And finally," he said, his voice lowering to a near whisper, "No excuses. I expect nothing but your best efforts in this class. Excuses will not be tolerated."

Even though I could barely handle the weight of words and his scrutinising glare, Luo slightly tugged my hand as I gently caressed her hand for comfort.

I understood why the other years were so serious, this school took no jokes.

With that, he straightened, his posture rigid with authority. "Now then," he said, his voice returning to its initial weary tone, "Let's begin."

The room seemed to hold its breath as the lesson started, the rules hanging in the air like a silent promise of what was to come in this class under the watchful eye of this strict but undoubtedly capable teacher.

As an hour passed, it felt as though only moments had slipped away as Mr. Chen had outlined the course of our studies.

The projector hummed softly as he began to write on the screen, illuminating the first topic: Herbology: Ores and Their Applications.

"Herbology," he announced, his voice carrying a hint of excitement, "is the study of plants and their properties." The room buzzed with curiosity as he delved into the intricacies of this fascinating subject.

"We will be focusing on the roots of plants," he continued, "particularly the ores that are stored within them."

 "They are essential elements that can greatly enhance our cultivation age and qi refinement." He paced the front of the room, his eyes alight with enthusiasm for the subject a stark contrast to his weary and strict demeanour from before.

"These ores," he continued, "can be found within the ordinary plants that surround us."

"For example," Mr. Chen said, "the Plinnus flower, a common sight in our gardens, contains traces of magical ores within its pollen." He described how these ores could be harnessed and used to boost one's cultivation abilities.

Certain plants, like the Plinnus flower, housed valuable ores within their pollens and even within the bodies of creatures that consumed them. I loved this concept (as I had created it) and Luo Luo was also indulged as she scribbled notes as he talked.

He then shifted the focus to trees, specifically the magnolia tree. "Magnolia trees," he explained, "secrete berries that contain valuable ores in their seeds." He described how these trees thrived in the biome near the north tower, a place we would likely visit during our studies.

I recall designing various plants and trees embedded with low-grade ores: ginseng, ginger roots, familias, lovilia flowers, daffodils, cherry blossom trees, and Wylem trees.

There were so many I never mentioned that I'd forgotten them all; some were even based on real plants and trees.

Something the teacher even forgot to mention is that Magnolia trees also secreted golden berries very rarely during the summer season which contained medium-grade ores, and were very identifiable as their seeds tend to be bigger.

"Now, for our focus this semester," Mr. Chen said, his voice filled with purpose, "we will delve deep into the understanding and extraction of these ores."

The teacher outlined the structure of the semesters ahead. "For this first semester," he said, "all first-years will focus on theory. We will delve deep into the principles of Herbology and the art of pill-making processes."

He then explained the practical aspect of Herbology. "We will also have hands-on experiences with plant growth and farming," he announced.

"These practicals will be limited to Herbology, as it is crucial for you to understand how to cultivate and rear plants."

He emphasized the importance of farming for our growth as practitioners of pills and elixirs.

With that, the introductory lesson came to a close, leaving the students buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the future lessons that lay ahead.

After he left, I heard the rustling of white papers being passed around vigorously from student to student.

"I hope my timetable isn't too packed", a girl behind me muttered to her friend beside her in a fearful tone.

Among all the white pieces of paper gold sheets of paper could be seen, as a thick silken golden paper approached me.

Luo Luo and the 4 boys next to me respectively looked in awe, while sitting in anticipation for their timetable.

I touched and rubbed the smooth velvety silk texture of the paper in my hands. At the top boldly written at the top in cursive red ink was, 'PRIMA PHOENIX TIMETABLE OF LI WEN.'

I scanned and roamed the front and page, my disbelief increasing. I mean, how could they give me such a packed timetable, other people's looked scarce in comparison.

Everyone had a 2-hour herbology lesson with Mr Chen every morning. We had regular lessons with a woman called Madam Liang normally in the afternoon, which was also 2 hours long, but on Mondays and Thursdays was 4 hours long.

I could hear the groans increase as more people read their timetables.

I read further finding out she would be teaching us the process of pill making and elixir making. We had Mr Chen again in the afternoon for more theory about herbology.

We had two more teachers called Ms. Xia who is a practical teacher, and Liao Bao who seemed to be a farmer.

We had these two less, but a 1 hour practical with Ms. Xia every day.

Notably after assessing my timetable and Luo Luo's I found out classes typically end at 4 in the afternoon and commence as early as 6 in the morning. In contrast, my schedule extends until 7, an extra three hours compared to others.

It dawned on me that Prima Phoenix students likely received a much heavier schedule due to the additional end-of-day lessons.

The weight of this realization deepened further with the addition of an extra lesson on Saturdays, what should have been a day of rest.

While being a Prima Phoenix was undoubtedly prestigious and something to be proud of, it now felt more like a burden than an honour.

Balancing this demanding schedule, reminded me of the agonizing pressure of completing university essays on time in the past.

Despite the weight of these challenges, I saw an opportunity to refine my time management skills, which I terribly lacked in my past life.

My determination remained unwavering.

Holding the first place position among my peers was something that I never had in the past, and honestly... it felt right as the person who made this story.

I partially observed the competitive glances and measuring looks, a reminder that being in the first place meant continually demonstrating why I deserved to be there.

This challenge was also a chance to showcase my strength and resilience, to show just how good an author could be at participating in her own story.