Heaven's Eyes

Flaws in the 9 fold path

Tessa looked like she might burst into tears again.

All she wanted was a competent mentor and a shot at a better future. And now?

Now she was the lowest-ranked student, under the lowest-ranked teacher in the entire academy.

Why is my life like this…

Jack gestured toward a nearby structure.

"Alright, this is my classroom. Go get your bedding and make sure you’re here on time tomorrow."

Jack, standing beside her, pointed to the small room.

"This... this is it?"

Tessa stared at the modest building like she’d just been sentenced to solitary confinement. It was tiny, smaller than the exam waiting rooms. Could it even hold more than a handful of students?

"Teacher, if I… don’t show up tomorrow, will you kick me out?"

There was still a glimmer of hope in her voice.

"Kick you out? No," Jack said with a straight face. "But I will personally toss you into the lake you were so eager to jump into. The turtles could use the company."

He crossed his arms.

"Like I said, you live as my student, you die as my student. But don’t worry. We’ll give you a proper burial."

Tessa’s eyes widened.

Then, suddenly, she clenched her fists, eyes blazing with newfound resolve.

"Teacher!" she shouted. "What time is class tomorrow? I’ll come early and clean the room! It’s an honor to learn under such a great teacher!"

She thumped her chest proudly.

"From now on, even if someone begs me to be their disciple, I’ll turn them down and lecture them for their complete lack of taste!"

Jack: "..."

He stared at her blankly.

He had always considered himself a connoisseur of shamelessness.

But clearly…

His new student had him beat.

It hadn’t been easy, but Jack Reed finally managed to settle things with Tessa and send her on her way. Only then did he realize the sun was already dipping low in the west, and twilight was falling fast.

He turned to Emmett.

"I know I promised you a meal, but… it wouldn’t look right for me to be seen heading back to my quarters with a student. Wait here, I’ll cook something and bring it out."

Emmett gave a small nod, understanding completely. Truthfully, he would’ve felt just as awkward stepping into Jack’s personal space.

Jack offered a faint smile and turned away.

"Looks like I’ve got six students officially enrolled now," he muttered to himself. "Well… seven, if I count Emmett. Might have to, considering how unpredictable his appearances in this world are."

He shook his head and exhaled, slow and steady.

Today marked the final day of student recruitment. Judging by the hour, the entire process had wrapped up across the academy.

When it all began, Jack had been certain he wouldn’t recruit a single soul. The fact that he now had six… seven… students under his name, and not just any six or possibly seven, was beyond what he’d dared imagine.

Not bad.

Not bad at all, for the academy’s so-called worst.

After securing the classroom, Jack retraced his steps toward his quarters, relying on memory to guide him through the fading light.

As a registered teacher at the academy, he was granted a private dormitory. In theory, it was a sign of status. In practice…

Jack reached the dorms, opened his door, and sighed.

His past self had really drawn the short straw.

The room wasn’t just small, it was borderline uninhabitable. Cramped to barely a dozen square meters, the space felt more like a storage closet than a home.

Dampness clung to the walls. The bedding looked like it hadn’t been aired out in months. Mold bloomed in several corners like dark stains, and the air carried a musty, sour tang that seemed embedded in the stone itself.

Jack stepped inside, wrinkling his nose.

How did the old Jack survive in this?

He shook his head again.

No wonder he’d failed.

Still, it was his space now, and he’d lived in worse. In his previous life, there were nights he’d slept under the open sky, soaked and cold, waiting for the world to change.

Compared to that?

This was tolerable.

Barely.

Let’s forget about that for now.

Jack Reed turned his attention to the Fireveil Swiftlets, bright-feathered, heat-rich birds he’d acquired earlier, and decided it was time to experiment. He pulled out a small pouch of grains and a handful of aromatic herbs he’d gathered from the academy market. With practiced hands, he began placing them carefully into a small, blackened cauldron.

The cauldron wasn’t much, barely big enough for a single serving, but it would do.

He layered foxfire rice at the bottom, poured in just enough water, and neatly arranged thin slices of the swiftlet meat on top. Then came pinches of dried crimson root, Celestial Mothleaf, embergrass, and a few flamevine leaves, herbs known to stimulate internal heat, enhance core vitality, and aid cultivation flow.

As he sealed the lid and adjusted the flame beneath it, sharp herbal notes mingled with the deep, savory scent of the cooking meat. Within moments, the room began to fill with a warm, soothing aroma.

A soft simmer followed, steam curling upward in lazy spirals.

Jack leaned back, eyes half-lidded. The heat from the bubbling pot wrapped around him like a blanket, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

"Lessons begin tomorrow," he muttered. "I need to test where I stand… and train, if I want to keep up."

Leaving the stew to cook, Jack crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Then he shifted into a cross-legged posture, back straight, hands resting lightly on his knees.

Although he’d inherited this body’s memories, cultivating with his own will made everything feel real, his journey, his strength, his decisions. It gave the act weight.

Because in this world, there was one truth above all:

Strength ruled everything.

The Vault of Eternal Insight was a powerful tool, unrivaled in its ability to analyze, dissect, and predict. It could expose weaknesses, map out pressure points, and foresee the consequences of a strike down to the finest detail.

But if he himself wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough to act on that knowledge?

Then it was all wasted potential.

The Vault wasn’t a shortcut to greatness; it was only as useful as the hands wielding it.

Jack had to make sure those hands were strong.

His inherited technique, the Ninefold Path of Astoria, was no simple practice. It was a legacy cultivation method passed down from the founder of Astoria Academy, focusing on refining the soul through nine progressive stages, each one designed to mirror the phases of a martial cultivator’s growth.

Currently, Jack was at the third stage.

A full step behind most of the instructors at the academy, nearly all of whom had reached the fourth.

On paper, he was the weakest teacher employed. And tomorrow, that paper reputation would be tested in front of real students, many of whom had already started doubting him.

He began the breathing pattern etched into his memory.

Slow inhale. Slowly exhale.

Light flickered at the edge of his vision. Minute sparks shimmering motes of ambient energy drifted toward him. He drew them in steadily, cycling them through his meridians, focusing them into his dantian. The more he absorbed, the purer his Hayki became refined essence that would eventually anchor his breakthroughs.

Time slipped away. How long he sat there, he didn’t know.

When he finally opened his eyes, Jack exhaled sharply and frowned.

“This… is way too slow.”

Even though he had inherited the memories of his predecessor, Jack Reed’s consciousness remained that of someone from a very different continent called Lumireth. And as far as he was concerned, sitting still and cultivating for hours on end? That was torture.

Especially when it came to gathering Hayki.

Focusing on that process made him feel utterly helpless.

Hayki gathering referred to the act of drawing spiritual particles from the air, condensing them slowly and steadily. It was like stacking logs, layer by layer, until a stable flow of energy formed and rooted itself within the dantian.

It was a meticulous, grueling effort.

Some cultivators spent years doing it daily, patiently accumulating energy until they finally had enough to break through to the next realm. That kind of spiritual grind was almost a rite of passage.

But to Jack?

It felt like watching paint dry.

To sit there for months, years, even decades?

He’d rather die.

Then, a thought hit him like a bolt of lightning.

"Wait… the Astoria Ninefold Path might be the academy’s standard cultivation method, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best. I can use the Vault of Eternal Insight to find its flaws… and correct them. That would make my training way more efficient!"

His heart raced.

Cultivation techniques came in many forms, some refined and powerful, others bloated and inefficient. Most cultivators had to accept their technique as it was. They had no way to analyze or improve it.

But Jack had the Vault.

And the Vault didn’t just see enemies, it saw everything. It could dissect martial techniques, expose pressure points, and unravel internal flaws. If he used it to break down the Ninefold Path and optimize it, his growth rate could skyrocket.

He might even create a technique so refined, so efficient, that the Vault itself had no further notes.

A perfect method.

Energized by the idea, Jack stood up, strode to his modest bookshelf, and retrieved the worn scroll containing the Astoria Ninefold Path, his version of the academy’s foundational method.

Unrolling it carefully, he focused.

Hu!

As expected, the Vault of Eternal Insight jolted to life. In his mind’s eye, a new glowing tome appeared on the shelves within the Vault’s vast library, bearing the same name.

Astoria Ninefold Path.

The real analysis was about to begin.

Opening the book gently, Jack Reed narrowed his eyes as lines of glowing text began to unfurl within the Vault of Eternal Insight.

He was stunned.

There were more than a thousand flaws in the Astoria Ninefold Path the very technique he had just been training with.

“This is the technique I was using?” he muttered, shocked.

To think a basic 3rd-tier cultivation method had this many issues… It was like trying to eat a vegetable riddled with worms. Frankly, he was amazed his Hayki hadn’t scattered entirely from using it.

“What about the other techniques?”

He turned to his shelf. As a teacher, Jack had access to several cultivation manuals: Supreme Four Inscription, Heaven Meridian Technique, Lotus Acupoint Breakthrough Might...

One by one, he pulled them out and opened them.

As expected, the Vault responded instantly. Each technique triggered a corresponding glowing tome within the Vault, each brimming with highlighted flaws, some with over three thousand.

Worse than the Ninefold Path.

Jack’s eye twitched.

“Am I supposed to drop dead from exhaustion trying to fix all of these?” he groaned, rubbing his temples.

Thousands of flaws across dozens of techniques. Even with the Vault’s pinpoint accuracy, the sheer volume made it feel like standing at the mouth of an endless maze. Every path branched into further uncertainty. Navigating it would take not just time, but monumental mental effort.

He took a breath to center himself.

“My current cultivation is at Warrior level 3 Essence Fist, Pinnacle. I’m one step away from breaking through. I don’t need to fix everything. Just the part I need right now.”

A practical solution.