The match was over, but a residue of misery and defeat hung in the air like cheap incense. Cao Jian and his crew were a sorry sight, groaning on the platform. Luohe Sanqian and the others descended, the hum of the energy barrier fading behind them. Pang Ci, ever the opportunist, practically scampered over to Yao, his chubby face beaming with what he clearly thought was winning loyalty. He made to offer her the summoning token for the formidable Snow-Gosling, a gesture of groveling obeisance.
Yao's mind flashed to the Psyche Sprite's immediate, aesthetic-driven shift from 'mister' to 'mommy.' Oxus's personal magnetism… it's not exactly warm and fuzzy, is it?The little sprite was fickle. The big, terrifying goose had made its disdain for her quite clear back in the instance. Best not to push her luck.
So…
She took a subtle half-step back, her hand coming up in a gentle, dismissive wave. "No need. You should be the one to return it to her. It's… bonded to you." Her tone was final, leaving no room for debate.
Luohe Sanqian, who had been observing the exchange with his customary glacial detachment, spoke without looking at Pang Ci. "You forget. Ducks and geese are not natural companions. They compete for the same ponds." His voice was as cold and crisp as a mountain stream, the words perfectly chosen to needle.
Well, well,Yao thought, a flicker of wry amusement cutting through her weariness. Even the ice prince has a temper hidden under that permafrost. And that's a pointed little barb.He'd clearly done his homework on her. The whole 'Duck King' fiasco from the entrance exams must have circulated further than she'd thought. A three-city inside joke at her expense. Charming.
She felt a prickle of self-consciousness but refused to take the bait. Engaging Luohe Sanqian in a battle of wits felt like trying to have a conversation with a particularly handsome, particularly sharp glacier—you'd just end up cold and cut. Instead, she turned her attention back to the platform, her gaze settling on the huddled forms of the losers. "Planning to live up there? You can come down, pay your debt, and then climb back up for a period of solitary reflection. I don't mind either way." She paused, letting the silence stretch. "You dohave the money, don't you?"
Cao Jian and his friends' faces solidified into masks of sickly dread.
Pang Ci, a born instigator, saw his opening and pounced. "No way, no way! They're the elite of Suming City! They represent the dignity of an entire metropolis! And they'd dare to fight on a challenge platform and not pay up? Is that even a thing people do? Does Suming City have no face left to lose?"
The crowd, which included a fair number of candidates from Suming who had been watching the spectacle with varying degrees of schadenfreuge, now shifted uncomfortably. Several of them wore expressions of profound disgust and anger, directed both at the disgraced Cao Jian and his ilk, and at the smug provocateurs from Jingyang. One tall, sharp-featured youth from the Suming contingent took a furious step forward, his hand twitching towards the focus at his belt, clearly intent on salvaging some city pride with his fists.
A hand clamped on his shoulder. "Stand down, Captain," a quieter voice advised.
"But they're—"
"I said, stand down."
The Suming group fell into a resentful, prickly silence. Yao watched the exchange, then reached out and placed a restraining hand on Pang Ci's shoulder. "Don't speak nonsense," she chided, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Suming City isn't like our backwater Jingyang. They would never be so… lacking in propriety." Then she turned her full attention to Fu Qiang, who had been observing the entire post-match drama with the amused detachment of a patron at a particularly rowdy theater. "Elder Brother," she said, sweet as poisoned honey.
Fu Qiang took one look at her expression and knew, with the certainty of a man who has dodged many a financial bullet, that trouble was incoming. This human-shaped disaster was about to make him an offer he'd have to be an idiot to refuse. He manufactured a look of sudden recollection. "Ah! I just remembered! I have urgent business at the family estate. A-Li, my dear future brother-in-law, we're family now. I'll come collect you tonight, we'll have a proper family dinner at home, get to know…"
He was already turning, the words flowing smoothly, his body angled for a clean escape. He didn't get to finish his sentence. The brother-in-law in question lunged forward, grabbed his arm, and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Elder Brother, hear me out first. We're family, right?" Yao's voice was a conspiratorial whisper, loud enough for the nearest onlookers to catch. "Now, there are people here who owe me money. They tricked me into a match, injured my psyche, and now are refusing to pay their debt. If it was just me they bullied, fine, I'm used to it. But the truly unforgivable thing is they did this while you were standing right there! They saw a scion of the mighty Fu family, my own dear brother, and they still had the audacity! This isn't an insult to me, it's a slap in the face to the Fu! As my elder brother, you can't possibly stand for this, can you? Such a blatant humiliation… can the Fu name tolerate it?"
"Of… of course not," Fu Qiang managed through the fingers, his eyes wide.
"But I have exams! If I'm busy running around trying to collect debts from these deadbeats andtrying to prepare, I'll have no energy for a family dinner tonight. So, I've had a thought." She leaned in. "I'll sell you the 200 S2 cores. At 90% of market value. You, as the head of the Fu family's young generation, can then rightfully go and… collectwhat is owed. This serves multiple purposes: it upholds the Fu family's honor, it frees me to focus on my exams and bring glory to our new alliance, and it lets me spend quality time with my… bride-to-be." She blinked. "Wait, what's her name again?"
She didn't wait for an answer, steamrolling ahead. "And of course, I wouldn't let your money be tied up. I know the Fu have a formidable legal team. First step: send formal legal notices to their schools and the city education bureau. The charge isn't 'failing to pay a duel debt.' Too petty. The charge is 'public use of mental manipulation and illusion to attempt grand larceny.' That's a serious crime that, I believe, isn't covered by the examinee immunity statutes. Even if the investigation ultimately proves inconclusive, the processof investigation would likely freeze their eligibility. Can you imagine? Their families, to avoid that shame, would scrape together every last coin within a day to repay you. And if their families are truly penniless…" She smiled, a cold, sharp thing. "…then these desperate boys, backed into a corner, would have no choice but to go to the person who put them up to this. The one who provided the mentalist. And they'd sing like canaries. Offer him up. It's either that or ruin. And the person behind this… he's almost certainly here. Another candidate."
She let the implication hang, heavy and ugly. "A decade of grinding study, dreams of glory on the line… when pushed to the absolute brink, people's true colors show. It's never pretty. So that person, to save his own skin, would pay. He'd have to. Your money would be back in your hands by tonight, Elder Brother. It's a guaranteed profit." She finally released his mouth, taking a half-step back and adopting an expression of profound, wounded understanding. "Unless… you're afraid? Worried it might cause trouble? Then… of course, I understand. I, after all, crawled out of a garbage heap. I'm used to being trodden upon. But I would never, ever want to drag the noble Fu name into any risk. You should go. Really."
By now, everyone from the three cities knew exactly what kind of creature Oxus was. Sly, treacherous, profit-obsessed, a master of twisting information and manipulating others to her own ends—she'd joined a duck gang, for fate's sake! There were no depths to which she wouldn't sink.
Yet, the art of rhetoric was a strange and powerful magic. Her intentions were transparently vicious, designed to complicate a simple matter of debt into a tangled web involving the Fu and a mysterious puppeteer. But her logic was, infuriatingly, sound. She presented facts, outlined a strategy, appealed to emotion (with a side of veiled threat). It was a masterclass in social jiu-jitsu.
Would Fu Qiang be threatened? Did a lone, trash-planet upstart like Oxus have the weight to threaten the eldest direct son of the Fu main family?
Most of the candidates present had lived and breathed nothing but exams for years. Their families and schools had cocooned them, allowing a singular focus. The byzantine, cutthroat politics of noble houses were a foreign language. Many stared, baffled, unable to follow the intricate dance. But a few—the naturally cunning, the born schemers—tasted the complex, bitter vintage being served and understood its potency.
Pang Ci looked from Yao's carefully constructed mask of resignation to Fu Qiang's frozen smile. He'd bet his last copper the man would fold.
It took only a few seconds. The dark calculation in Fu Qiang's eyes melted, replaced by a veneer of fraternal warmth. He slung an arm around Yao's shoulders, pulling her into a comradely half-embrace. "Aiya! What kind of brother would I be if I didn't help with such a small thing? We're family! Don't speak of two families!" He reached into an inner pocket of his exquisite robe and produced a slim stack of crisp, cerulean-hued notes. Twenty of them.
Blue Notes. Each denomination: 100.
The currency hierarchy was a steep cliff: copper to green (10,000:1), green to blue (another 10,000:1). Yao had just vaulted from the realm of green notes straight into the blue. Two thousand blue notes. The number seemed modest, but the value was astronomical. Ninety-nine percent of the students in the hall would never see more than a few dozen blue notes in their young lives. One blue note was ten thousand green, was one hundred million copper coins. And the 200 S2 cores, even at 90% value, were worth more than two trillion copper. Fu Qiang, the scion of a Blue-Blood family, moved in financial circles that operated on a different plane of reality. The money appeared in his hand as if by magic.
Yao thought of her own pathetic, guilt-ridden scavenging of a mere 20% of the Xie assets, and a brief, sharp pang of what might have been envy stabbed her. It was gone in a breath, burned away by the satisfying weight of the notes in her hand.
Without ceremony, she peeled off three notes. One for Luohe Sanqian, who took it with a slight nod, his expression unchanging. One for Bald Lu, who grinned and made it disappear into a hidden pouch. She held out a third to Pang Ci, whose eyes lit up, hand already extending…
And then she tucked the remaining seventeen back into her own pocket.
Pang Ci's hand hung in the air, empty.
Yao looked at it, then at him. "Yes?"
"N-nothing!" Pang Ci's hand smoothly transitioned to scratching his ear, the picture of innocent nonchalance. "My ear itched. Big Brother, have you eaten? Let me order you some food, welcome you properly!" The transformation from the cunning, ruthless player who'd coldly eliminated rivals in the instance to this fawning, eager-to-please lackey was so complete it was almost impressive.
"I've eaten," Yao said, her energy seeming to drain now that the transaction was complete. The journey from the covert landing point after the 'skiff explosion' had been long. She headed for the stairs leading to the guest rooms.
As she climbed the worn wooden steps, she felt the weight of a gaze upon her. Heavy. Assessing. She looked up.
On the second-floor landing, leaning casually against the polished railing, were four figures. Three young men and a girl. They were, objectively, striking. The kind of beauty and confidence that spoke of excellent genes and even better resources. One of them, however, stood out. Not because he was more handsome, but because his aura was different. Softer. Kinder. It radiated a sort of righteous, open warmth. His features had sharpened, shed the gauntness of hardship, filled out by good food and the subtle, transformative power of awakened magic. But she would have known him anywhere.
If this were a tragic romance, it might be the moment the heroine, having survived the shipwreck of her old life, ascended the grand staircase of memory to find the ghost of her lost love waiting, smiling his gentle, timeless smile.
This was not that.
Here, she climbed the stairs, and Qin Mianfeng stood framed by his new, powerful companions, looking down. His expression held no warmth, no shared history of grimy survival. Only cold appraisal, arrogance, and a sharp, intellectual contempt.
Their positions had reversed with dizzying speed. He was the one surrounded by privilege and promise. She was the one climbing the stairs alone. Yet, they had both traversed canyons of circumstance in a frighteningly short time.
Even with the failure of Cao Jian's scheme, and the impending financial sting, Qin Mianfeng's face showed no ripple of disturbance. He leaned against the railing, a part of the trio, observing the scene below as if it were a mildly diverting play put on by the lower classes.
Yao reached the top of the stairs, her boots firm on the wooden boards. She made to turn down the corridor towards the rooms. Then she paused, as if a thought had just struck her. She turned back.
"Oh! Excuse me," she said, her voice carrying clearly in the now-quiet hall. "Aren't you Qin Mianfeng? From Planet X5? We shared a… neighborhood, if I recall."
Qin Mianfeng had braced for recognition, but not for this—a blunt, public naming, devoid of subterfuge. He recovered swiftly. "It is me. I see you've… come up in the world. It seems you were hiding your true capabilities all along. I suppose the people who tried to kill me back then were also—"
Yao cut him off, her voice light, conversational. "You know, just the other day I heard Inspector Zhou was being set up on blind dates by her family. I was so confused, I asked her about it directly. She said it wasn't true. That in her eyes, you've always been… like a little brother." She paused, letting the word hang, innocuous and devastating. "Silly me, I completely misunderstood the nature of your… closeness. And then I heard about the attempt on your life! How awful. Inspector Zhou raced to the scene with a team to rescue you. And what did she find? You'd packed up every single valuable you owned and vanished."
She shook her head, a mimicry of perplexity. "She was so baffled. You were the victim. Why run? Did you not trust even her?" Her expression shifted to one of dawning, theatrical comprehension. "Oh. I think I understand now."
She met his eyes, and her voice dropped, just for him, though the acoustics of the hall carried it. "If I were you… I'd run too."
Her gaze flicked to the傲慢 girl at his side, then back to him. "After all, an older sister is so much harder to manage than a younger one, isn't she?"
She offered the girl a small, meaningless smile, then turned and walked away without a second glance.
"You little—!" the red-haired boy, Chen Sihai, snarled, energy crackling around his fist. The tallest youth, Donglong Zhao, caught his wrist in a grip like iron. Qin Mianfeng also placed a restraining hand on the furious girl's arm, Lian Sujin.
"Don't," Qin Mianfeng said, his voice the very picture of pained dignity. "I told you he'd likely try to slander me. As long as you all know the truth, that's what matters. I don't care what outsiders think."
"But he—!"
"Let it go. The exam is what matters. Beating him there will wash away any mud he throws. Don't let him get under your skin. Come on." Qin Mianfeng's performance was masterful—the wronged but noble scholar, rising above petty insults. It made Yao's public, catty remarks seem crude and small by comparison.
But was that truly the case?
Downstairs, the observers wore varied expressions. Luohe Sanqian and Bald Lu glanced up at the quartet, then away, wanting no part of the drama. In the privacy of their assigned room, Liu Yun poured a cup of tea. "In the future, give both Oxus and Qin Mianfeng a wide berth. Trouble clings to them like swamp mist."
Luohe Sanqian raised an eyebrow. "You know those others?"
Liu Yun's family was Green-Blood, his social circle wider. He took a sip before answering. "They're from Luque City. One of the five great cities of Boluke Province. They sent over three hundred candidates to this selection round. I heard that in their version of the Flayer instance, the boss was dead in under five minutes. They never even needed to trigger the village's protective formation."
His teammates stared.
"Was their strategy lacking?" Liu Yun shook his head. "No. Their collective combat strength was simply so high they brute-forced it. No need for clever tricks. That's why their point totals are so inflated." He set his cup down. "Our three cities… we think Oxus skewed our performance. The truth is, our overall power level was lacking. Without her pulling in Bara at the end, we might not have cleared the final phase at all. At least five other cities failed to kill the Flayer. Theyare the truly weak ones."
"Back to Luque. Five Blue-Blood families, eighteen Green. Those three are from Blue-Blood lines: Donglong, Lian, and Chen. Donglong is the strongest, with deeper resources and rarer genetic talents. They've even intermarried with Orange-Blood families. The two boys are Donglong Zhao and Chen Sihai. The girl is Lian Sujin. The Lian family is second only to Donglong, and she's the only daughter of the current patriarch, utterly doted on. The Lian family holds particular sway with the Donglong because the current Donglong matriarch is Lian Sujin's aunt. Furthermore, the Lian family has a master alchemist ranked in the province's top ten. In terms of hidden influence and connections, the Lian network might even surpass the Donglong's."
This,Liu Yun's tone implied, was a proper, stable city nobility.Intermarried, powerful, a web that monopolized local power and presented a united front. It made the petty, backstabbing squabbles of Jingyang's three families look like a pathetic, provincial farce.
Luohe Sanqian's lips quirked. "So Qin Mianfeng has impressive taste. Ambitious."
Ambitious was an understatement. It was a class-rocketing ascent.
"Oxus isn't doing so badly himself," Liu Yun mused. "The Fu family's marriage web is even more extensive than the Donglong's."
Luohe Sanqian considered this. "The mermaid clan. I've heard of them. East Sea Fu. Legendary for producing peerless beauties with a genetic matrix that's uniquely adaptable, prized for breeding. But why him? It doesn't fit their usual pattern… unless it's the connection to the Ember Orchid Xie?"
"He pulled 200 S2 cores from his pocket," Luohe Sanqian said flatly. "That tells its own story. It proves one thing clearly enough for Fu Qiang to step in publicly."
They exchanged a look. The cores could only have come from the Jingyang Xie vault. Zhou Miao had left them for Oxus. She hadn't cut him adrift. That meant she wasn't as indifferent as she appeared. Oxus held value in her eyes—enough that she didn't want him hamstrung by poverty. It was a backhanded form of patronage.
"Even so," Liu Yun said, "the Fu won't shield him from the combined displeasure of the Donglong, Lian, and Chen families."
"So the question is," Luohe Sanqian murmured, "did Oxys just pick a fight with Qin Mianfeng without knowing who stands behind him? Or did he do it becausehe knows?"
In her room, Yao made a call. Zhou Linlang answered on the first chime. Yao laid out the confrontation bluntly.
"Inspector Zhou, you have an impeccable reputation. But sometimes, your manners and breeding are a ladder others use to climb. You're too… niceto say the ugly things. So I said them for you. Qin Mianfeng is a master at manipulating women and crafting a persona of shining, misunderstood virtue. This world is already unfairly harsh on women. If he starts weaving tales in the shadows about you—about how you were deceived by a villainous rogue, how you wronged him, forcing him to flee and forge his own path, only to return in triumph—people will believe him. He has the silver tongue for it."
Zhou Linlang was silent for a moment, absorbing the frontal assault. "And you think your… direct approach worked? That Lian Sujin believed you?"
"Of course not. He's had months to prepare her, to weave his narrative. She's thoroughly enchanted."
"Then why say anything? You've just made enemies of Donglong Zhao and Chen Sihai. Even if they suspect Qin Mianfeng isn't the paragon he seems, their first loyalty will be to their own pride. You've insulted their circle. They won't let it slide. You've declared war."
Zhou Linlang wasn't worried; she was analyzing, recognizing that Yao's move, while risky, was a calculated piece on a larger board.
"Sometimes, when the gap in power is too vast, you have to force the conflict into the open," Yao said, her voice quiet. "Make the situation messy. Drag as many players into the chaos as you can. In murky water, even a small fish has a chance to dart away. Pulling the three families and the Fu into a public feud, making it gossip for every candidate here… it creates limitations. The Four Great Academies' selection isn't a back-alley brawl. Too many eyes are watching, including scions from Orange-Blood families. They'll be forced to be more… circumspect. For now."
Yao walked to the window, drawing back the curtain. The vista of the sprawling provincial capital unfolded before her, a tapestry of glittering spires and floating gardens. A team of sky-maned, winged horses, coats like polished pearl, trotted through the air pulling an ornate, gilded carriage. It was just past noon.
"It's not just that," she said, her reflection ghostly in the glass. "The higher you climb, the harder you fall. Right now, he's only ensnared the children of powerful houses. He hasn't touched the true core of their families' interests. The moment he causes them real loss, real embarrassment, that fawning affection will curdle into pure, potent hatred." She turned from the window, her eyes clear. "I just want those three families to understand, a little earlier than they might have, exactly whytheir precious jewels are going to lose tomorrow."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then Zhou Linlang laughed, a soft, genuine sound. "When you pass the exam," she said, "I'm buying you the most expensive meal in Boluke City."
The exams were tomorrow. At two in the afternoon, while most candidates were napping, meditating, or cramming last-minute theory, Yao left the hotel. Openly. It wasn't strange; students streamed in and out, heading to auction houses and alchemists to spend their last coins on upgrades.
Everyone assumed Oxus was doing the same.
No one followed. The hotel perimeter was a dead zone for spies—the combined oversight of the major powers and the academies themselves ensured that. Candidates stronger than her didn't care. Those weaker were wary of her infamous perceptiveness. And she'd moved too quickly, giving no one time to organize a tail.
An hour after leaving, she crossed a glassy lake via an arched stone bridge and entered a forest of ginkgo and maple. The leaves were a breathtaking mosaic of crimson, gold, and lingering green, dotted with clusters of late-blooming, fragrant flowers. A babbling brook wound through it, leading to a picturesque collection of buildings that looked less like a city block and more like a wealthy, secluded estate.
The estate was, in fact, a private hospital. Anachronistically charming, it bore a weathered wooden sign: White Horse Clinic.
Yao had done her research. This was the most prestigious, and most discreetly powerful, private medical institution in the city. Founded generations ago by the province's greatest healer, it was still run by his descendants, maintaining a unique ethos: charitable outreach funded by exclusive, exorbitantly priced services for the elite.
Currently, a large, hand-painted wooden plaque hung from the branch of an ancient banyan tree by the clinic's entrance, swaying in the breeze. It read:
HELP WANTED: Healers & Nurses. No credentials required, only proven skill. No base salary. No commission. Powered solely by compassion and the desire to do good. Hours: Whenever you feel like it. A perfect side hustle for the spiritually enlightened! Come share your light!
In her old world, this advertisement would have sparked lawsuits. Here, as soon as she crossed the bridge and the tree line cleared, she saw the reason for the clinic's renown.
A line. A massive, snaking line of people, stretching from the clinic's carved double doors, down the garden path, and around the corner. It was longer than any patient queue she'd seen.
Yao massaged her temples. Of course.
Why would anyone apply for such a blatantly exploitative 'job'? It all came down to the White Horse Clinic's legendary background, a piece of lore she remembered from her gaming days. If a player character performed exceptionally well in a public instance but was critically injured, they might be sent here for treatment. There was a chance, a small, golden chance, of encountering one of the clinic's reclusive master healers. Impress them with your 'character' or 'potential,' and you could unlock rare quest lines, gain powerful allies, or even—for the incredibly lucky or narratively blessed—become a disciple. A direct line to the most potent healing arts in the region.
Every person in this line was gambling on that chance.
With a sigh, Yao took her place at the end. For an hour, she stood as the line inched forward. People eyed her, some trying to make conversation. She gave polite, non-committal answers. She also watched, with growing dismay, as candidate after candidate was interviewed at a small side-room and emerged mere minutes later, faces fallen, politely but firmly shown the door.
The standards were impossiblyhigh.
Her hope dwindled. Maybe this was a waste of time. She'd have to try one of the other, less mythic private clinics.
"Number 346! Number 346, you're up!"
Yao looked at the token in her hand, startled from her thoughts. A nurse—a real nurse, but one with the gentle, furry face and large, dark eyes of a sun bear—waved her over. Yao followed her down a clean, herb-scented hallway into a small, sunlit consulting room.
Inside, the interview panel waited. The bear nurse, who was substantially larger and looked like she could wrestle a troll, and an elderly human woman with hair the color of spun moonlight and eyes that held the depth of still, deep wells.
Yao's breath caught. To her mundane senses, they seemed ordinary. But something deeper, the newly awakened instinct from her Viridian blood and bound spirits, shivered. These two… their auras were so still, so perfectly contained, they felt like mountains shrouded in mist. Level 60? Higher? The air in the room was thick with latent, benevolent power.
"Name. Yao, is it?" the old woman asked, her voice like dry leaves rustling pleasantly.
"Yes."
"Your application states you have no formal medical training. No practical experience. Did you come here to pass the time? Sightsee?" She spoke slowly, each word deliberate.
Yao said nothing. She simply raised her right hand. A sphere of pure, warm, radiant light coalesced above her palm—Luminous Burst, held in perfect, stable containment. Then, the light shifted, dissolving into a dozen writhing, hair-thin filaments of brilliance that danced between her fingers with impossible grace—Light Ray Fluid.
"Luminous Burst can be a potent healing catalyst, flooding tissue with restorative energy," she said, her voice calm. "Light Ray Fluid would allow for precise, non-invasive internal surgery. No scalpels needed."
The answer was brutally honest. The two beings before her could doubtless sense the frightening degree of control, the innate affinity for the Light element she possessed.
The old woman pushed her spectacles up her nose. "Show me a healing technique. Any one."
"I haven't learned one yet."
The old woman, who had begun to smile faintly, froze. "Pardon?"
The bear nurse, who had been looking hopeful, let her face fall into a comical grimace. She reached behind her back and, with a soft clang, produced a massive, well-used cast-iron wok. The implication was clear.
Yao's eye twitched. She lowered her hand, the light vanishing. "I intend to learn," she said, her voice softening. "I have the funds prepared. I was informed the clinic's internal apothecary offers… discounted skill texts to staff. Is that correct?"
The old woman set down her pen, a slow smile spreading across her wrinkled face. "So you're here for the employee discount?"
"Partly. Also to find a place that offers… stability. A purpose that doesn't leave the soul feeling quite so hollow." She paused, then added, almost to herself, "Do too many dark deeds, you start to worry about sleeping at night."
The reason for applying was… unique.
The old woman chuckled. "For that, you'd want the Temple's Confessional. They specialize in guilt."
Yao offered a small, genuine smile. "You have to kneel there. My knees aren't what they used to be."
The old woman's chuckle deepened into a real laugh. "Alright, alright. You have the foundation. Eighteen, with talent like that… your story isn't simple, I'm sure. The apothecary sells to staff, yes. But signing the contract… it's not just a piece of paper. It carries weight. You'd be responsible for the words you've spoken here."
She grew serious. "And you'd have to stopdoing 'dark deeds.' Bring trouble to this clinic's door, and no amount of good deeds will wash it clean."
Yao nodded. "I understand. I won't." After all,she thought, it's Oxys who does the bad things. What does that have to do with me, Yao?
"Now, what texts were you looking for? The internal discount is ten percent. Sign here, and Sunny" —she nodded at the bear nurse— "will fetch them from the vault."
Yao handed over a list she'd prepared. The old woman and Sunny looked it over. The old woman's eyebrows rose. Sunny's expression turned incredulous. This girl wasn't just rich; she was spending over a thousand blue notes in one go. The list contained advanced, rare Light-element techniques, bought in sets to cover progression to Level 20. And one, singular, eye-wateringly expensive entry.
"You're certain about "Luminous Corpus"?" the old woman asked, tapping the name. "The demands on control and psychic energy are extreme. The cost is equally prohibitive. It's arguably the most powerful single-target healing and restoration art in the Blue tier, but it's notoriously… inefficient for most. A luxury for the obscenely gifted or the terminally wealthy."
Yao confirmed. She signed the contract, a faint, golden sigil flashing on the parchment as she did. She paid, a stack of blue notes disappearing into the old woman's drawer. She even provided a local address.
"A flower shop? On Petal Lane? I know that place. Never seen you there."
"You will. I bought it on the way over. The owner was… eager to sell."
Sunny the bear nurse stared. Was this rich girl on the run, laundering money through floristry and charity work?
Yao returned to the flower shop, 'The Gilded Petal.' The previous owner was long gone, counting his windfall. The staff remained, tending the vibrant, magical blooms. She went upstairs to the living quarters, which a swift, expensive contractor team had already transformed into a clean, comfortable space. She shrugged off her jacket, collapsed onto a plush sofa, and stared at the afternoon sun as it crept across the polished floor, finally warming her outstretched, pale fingers.
For the first time since waking up in this terrifying, beautiful world, she felt a fragile tendril of… belonging. It was thin, tenuous. But it was there.
It was immediately strangled by the much more familiar sensation of emptiness. Her money was gone. Again.
"It's never enough…" she groaned into the cushions, the sound a mixture of exhaustion and petulant frustration. "When will alchemy start making me moneyinstead of consuming it?"
She conveniently ignored the fact that her total number of serious alchemical attempts was under a hundred, with a success rate hovering around a pathetic two percent. If she was waiting for alchemy to be profitable, the Xie ancestral graves in both Jingyang andBoluke would need to spontaneously combust.
The next morning at eight, the Four Great Academies Union sent transports. Not airships. Buses. Living buses.
They were enormous, shaggy creatures with heads like benevolent, oversized huskies and powerful, tireless legs. Tails wagged amiably, stirring up dust. Yao was reminded of the great cat-buses from an old childhood story, and she felt another pang of surreal wonder at the intricacy of this world.
Each beast-bus could carry two hundred candidates. There were twenty of them. Four thousand candidates from Boluke Province alone. It hammered home just how insignificant Jingyang's fifteen participants truly were.
Yao boarded Beast-Bus Nine, found a window seat, and closed her eyes, hoping to steal a few more minutes of rest. A sudden commotion outside, followed by a ripple of excited chatter through her own bus, made her look.
The disturbance was at Beast-Bus One. A conflict. It was broken up swiftly by the formidable proctors of the Union, but not before Yao glimpsed, from her angle, a boy in fitted leather armor landing lightly on the ground, crackling wings of pure lightning fading from his back. The sigil on his jacket was the deep, unmistakable orange of the highest nobility.
Whoever had provoked him was no lightweight either. A girl with twin pigtails, casually sucking on a lollipop, made a face at him. Beneath her, a massive, Blue-tier striped tiger vanished at her mental command. Circling above her, waiting, was an equally formidable ice-feathered eagle. Dual top-tier Blue pets. And on her collar, another orange sigil gleamed.
"Gods and monsters…" someone whispered nearby. "They're putting all the top two hundred scorers on Bus One? Are they trying to get it blown up before we reach the venue?"
"You idiot," another muttered back. "You'd rather have one of those walking disasters on ourbus with no one to keep them in check? We'd be lucky to arrive in one piece."
A fair point. Yao turned away from the window, pulling a chilled can of spark-drink from her pack. She took a long, bracing sip, the cool fizz doing little to settle the sudden chill in her stomach.
The top two hundred were all on Bus One. No wonder she hadn't seen Donglong Zhao, Lian Sujin, or Chen Sihai when she boarded. They were there.
And so, of course, was Qin Mianfeng.