The air in Dongguan Academy's elite S-Class halls thrummed with a latent, competitive energy, thick enough to taste—a metallic hint of ozone and ambition. Figures like Zhao Er and his ilk moved through the corridors with a gravitational pull, hoarding resources and influence as if by birthright. Access was everything, a currency more valuable than coin. Yet, in the quiet sanctuary of the Sage's Clinic, a different economy prevailed. Here, the resources flowed for three alone: Yao and her two senior sisters. The elders, having long passed the peak of their resource assimilation, had carved their own paths and saw no need to intrude. Or perhaps, Yao mused, it was a deliberate act of grace, a stepping back to let the youngest bloom unfettered during this most critical, golden period of growth.
"Young blood truly has its advantages," the Vice-Dean sighed, the sound a soft rustle in the hushed study. She had drifted in during a rare moment of leisure, bearing snacks—whimsical, sugary things Big Xiong had procured—and an armful of clothing parcels delivered to the clinic, all ordered by Yao. "Why is most of this for me and Big Xiong?"
Yao, currently besieged by the arcane intricacies of a Second-Circle axiom, pressed the cool barrel of her vermillion pen against her temple. A headache pulsed in time with her frustrated thoughts. "What if I said I picked randomly?" she muttered, her voice laced with a weary amusement. "But I couldn't bring myself to be tooperfunctory. If the choices are hideous, at least we'll be hideous together. Would you think me utterly shameless, Senior Sister?"
The Vice-Dean, at an age where she saw through and past mere surfaces, merely observed. Yao's ink-black hair was tied back with a simple band, a few rebellious strands always escaping to brush the corner of her lips. She would tuck them back absently, or sometimes let them be, too lost in her studies to care. Recently, she'd taken to living in oversized white shirts in the study, the top two buttons perpetually undone, revealing a sliver of a white undershirt and the delicate, faint tracery of her collarbones. Her skin was so pale it seemed translucent, as if the slightest touch would bloom with a fragile, rosy flush. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing slender wrists and the five, jade-like fingers currently wrapped around the pen. The crimson lacquer of the writing instrument, held in such a grip, took on an unconsciously, perilously alluring quality.
Shameless?The Vice-Dean pondered, a wry thought forming. On the contrary, little Junior Sister, you seem precisely the type to inspire shameless, criminal thoughts in others.Remembering the recent, suspicious surge in "ailing" visitors to the clinic—predominantly young, male, and conspicuously healthy—she chose her words carefully. "I think the way you're dressing now is just fine."
Yao dropped her hand from her temple, the pen resuming its dance across the axiom grids. "Right?" she said offhandedly. "Who has the mind for elaborate adornment when buried in all this? Comfort is king at home."
The Vice-Dean's lips quirked. "It's not that. It's just... the younger patrons might find it... unsettlingto see you like this."
Unsettling?
Had Yao not been, at her core, a woman pushing thirty trapped in an eighteen-year-old's form, she might have genuinely missed the implication. Here, she was eighteen. She decided not to understand. After consulting the Vice-Dean on a particularly thorny axiomatic problem and seeing her off, Yao silently, meticulously, fastened the two undone buttons on her shirt.
Both the Infinite Control system and the Path of Luminescence Sovereign were powers demanding immense accumulation and breakthroughs. Yao knew time was a currency she had to spend lavishly. For now, she possessed the hardest-won prize: the Race Conversion Equation. The remaining components could be gathered gradually. After all, a million merit points were secure, half destined for Lang Hao, though the latter stubbornly refused. And Lang Hao's gifted pet egg would find its use in time.
Just as Yao was about to plunge back into her meditations, her communicator chimed with a private news alert she'd long forgotten she'd set.
Missing Economic Ministry Official Zhou Linlang Found.
She froze, then picked up the device. Her eyes scanned the brief article, thoughts churning. After a moment of contemplation, she deleted the alert parameters and set the communicator aside, forcibly redirecting her focus to the swirling axiom models before her.
Simultaneously, on Ox's end, a message arrived.
Might be entering a review period soon. Will have to postpone that meal I owe you. By the way, been in touch with Yao lately?
Frankly, it felt off.
While Yao compartmentalized and refused to be distracted, Ox set down her pen, propping her chin on her hand, her expression turning pensive. That single, seemingly innocuous sentence was a tapestry woven with hidden threads.
A review period was standard. Disappearing on a clandestine mission and reappearing out of the blue? Verification was mandatory to prevent impersonation.
If her identity was under review, all external communications would be scrutinized. Including this message.
Knowing communications were monitored, why reach out? If it was just to signal she was safe, why explicitly mention the meal and Yao? The dinner was a private arrangement. That detail, in theory, authenticated the sender. Furthermore, Yao's secret was known only to a handful: the unlucky Liu Wushi who stumbled upon it that night, Zhou Linlang, and Zhou Miao. This seemed to corroborate the sender's identity. Yet, the motive felt... odd.
Yao, across both her lives, possessed a keen, almost instinctual sensitivity to character. Despite her resistance to this world and her conscious efforts to maintain distance, a part of her, bone-deep, considered Zhou Linlang a friend. Someone she'd have gladly associated with in her previous life.
So, what was Zhou Linlang's character? One thing was certain: she wasn't the type to casually drag friends into potential danger just to prove a point.
Therefore, was this Zhou Linlang an imposter? Ox mentally reviewed their past meetings. Zhou had a marked preference for private, discreet dining establishments, often requiring reservations—a professional habit, valuing secrecy. Had she made a reservation for this postponed meal? If so, it left a trail. TK's agents were everywhere. Could they have uncovered it? As for Yao, given the circumstances of Zhou's disappearance and the Economic Ministry's recent turmoil, a high-placed, high-clearance mole was almost a certainty. Uncovering Zhou's past involvement with the Li case on X5 Star and her access to Yao's file wouldn't be difficult—breaks were possible from the Li side or Zhou's former team members. The TK mastermind was reputedly cunning. Deducing a connection between Ox/Yao and Zhou wasn't far-fetched, though guessing they were one and the same was unlikely. The Ministry, especially Zhou's mentor, the Minister, had likely already connected those dots. Hence the question: 'Been in touch with Yao lately?'The real Zhou Linlang knew they were dual-bodies of the Devouring Scroll, minds intertwined. Separate contact was redundant.
This 'Zhou' needed to feed this specific information to the Minister, to make him believe this was his disciple.
Evidence pointed to a fake.
Ox pulled a cigarette from a case, walking to the window. She lit it, the ember glowing in the gloom, and watched the smoke curl and cling to the cool glass, staining it a hazy gray. Frowning, she tapped the pane. A segment slid open silently, letting in the night's chill breath. The breeze scattered the smoke, and the glass began to clear.
Suddenly, she stubbed the cigarette out. A counter-thought struck. If this Zhou is fake, asking about Yao is a mistake.A question demands an answer. Increased communication creates more opportunities for error. There would be details from private conversations TK couldn't possibly know. Engaging in a back-and-forth would only expose cracks to the Ministry's auditors. Would TK, daring such an audacious move, be so careless as to invite scrutiny? If they wanted to use 'Yao' as a secret wedge, the message should have been different—a warning, perhaps, followed by a line like 'don't reply, for your safety,' cleanly severing contact to minimize risk.
But if this Zhou was real...
That was even stranger.
"Unnecessary. Tying one's own hands," Ox murmured to the night.
"Doesn't sound like her."
She was pulled from her thoughts by a subtle shift in the atmosphere downstairs. Not a sound, but the sudden, deliberate activation of a privacy barrier. Lang Hao, likely dealing with something she wished to keep private from her 'outsider' of a fiancé.
Two hours later, Ox set her pen down decisively and left the room.
The ground floor had been given to Lang Hao for convenience during her pregnancy. While an Arcane Master wasn't exactly frail, the consideration was there. The private suite was fully equipped.
Ox knocked. Silence.
Her frown deepened. She dissolved the barrier—an intrusion, but a calculated one. If all was well inside, the dissolution itself would prompt a reaction. She hadn't entered; privacy wasn't technically breached.
If there was no reaction...
Thirty seconds. Nothing.
A thread of solidified light slipped from her finger, snaking into the lock. A soft click. The door swung inward.
Darkness in the living area. The disturbance emanated from the bedroom.
Ox entered. On the bed, Lang Hao was thrashing, trapped in a nightmare so profound it seemed a physical cage. Cold sweat soaked her sheets. She was biting her lip, hard enough to draw blood that smeared stark against the white pillowcase. Even in the throes of whatever tormented her, she stifled her sounds—a habit carved deep by long, brutal practice.
Such a fierce girl, hiding all this. You'd never guess from her daytime composure.
Ox was no true physician. Lang Hao's state was unfamiliar, and with a pregnancy involved, recklessness was unthinkable. She had to contact Liu Wushi via Yao's communicator.
"Calling for a consultation this late?" Liu Wushi's reply was surprisingly prompt.
"Not at the clinic," Yao replied, fabricating smoothly. "Just studying some medical axioms at home. Came across a case description that puzzled me. Wondered if it's soul-related."
"Based on your description—skilled, well-backed, chronically afflicted, aware yet enduring—it's either an incurable condition or a deeply private one. You should have your own suspicions."
Testing me in the middle of the night?Yao stifled a sigh. "Teacher, you know I'm mostly self-taught. I'm not well-versed. I considered 'Dream Shackles,' but a skilled practitioner should be able to break those. If they can't, it suggests something else. I've heard of 'Profound Dream Shackles'—is it that?"
A faint, rhythmic squish-squishsound came through the comm. "Check if her spiritual energy or elemental aura is active."
Ox observed. "No."
"Then it's not. The body's defenses aren't engaged. Ninety percent chance it's a psychological affliction—a 'Tormented Heartstate.' Powerful spiritual energy, unable to resolve a deep-seated trauma, twists it into a recurring psychic loop. Dragged back, again and again. Not a small matter. Hard to treat. Prolonged, it leads to psychosis or complete spiritual collapse. A one-way sleep."
"Any remedy?"
"Make a fist."
Ox straightened, thinking the master physician was about to impart some profound secret. "Alright. And then?"
"Punch her in the head."
"...?"
Had she misheard?
"What, don't believe me?" Liu Wushi's voice was maddeningly calm. "Psychological, soul-deep issues sometimes require physical solutions. Knock her unconscious, stop the mental spiral, problem temporarily solved. Do it now, or it'll get worse."
Teacher, please tell me you're not a quack or a veterinarian..."Your wisdom is, as always, profound," Yao said, her voice flat. "Unfortunately, I'm only reading a case study. Not actually facing such a person. Can't test it."
"Quick on the uptake. Girl, you're getting sharper the later it gets. Careful you don't work yourself to death."
Yao ignored the jab. "Aren't you also busy at this hour, Teacher?"
"Nope. Asleep. You woke me."
"I hear sounds."
"Fine. Kneading clay. Your Senior Sister Big Xiong's birthday is soon. Might as well make one for you too. What do you want?"
Yao was taken aback. She'd seen the exquisite artistry in his quarters, guessed he had skilled hands, but hadn't expected this. It was a rare glimpse of simple, domestic peace in the high-strung world of Arcanists. "Nothing needed. A prescription would be more useful. For future reference."
Liu Wushi sent it—handwritten, on real paper, the characters flowing and elegant.
"Thanks, Teacher. Rest well."
On his end, Liu Wushi stared at the disconnected comm. "Use and discard. This little disciple has a bit of a wicked streak."
Meanwhile, Yao ended the call. Ox, in her room, was now gauging the optimal angle and force for a non-lethal strike to the back of Lang Hao's neck. A controlled chop later, Lang Hao slumped into blissful, enforced unconsciousness.
Ox fetched a damp cloth, gently wiping the sweat and blood from Lang Hao's face. She left everything else undisturbed and headed for the alchemy lab. Using the herbs on hand, she began brewing a sleep potion safe for the unborn child.
...It exploded. Ten times.
"The backlash from exhausting my Luck on the Equation is brutal," she muttered, surveying the blackened lab. The ingredients weren't cheap, but her recent windfall allowed for such 'calibration.' Each failed batch was a burnt offering to the capricious gods of fortune.
Finally, success. A single, crystalline vial of azure liquid. She administered a dose to the sleeping woman.
Eight hours later, Lang Hao awoke. Midday sun sliced through the curtain gap. Strange. In all these years, she'd never slept so... deeply. She sat up, eyes scanning the room, finally settling on the door. Her fingers twisted together, her gaze a blade of ice, yet her expression was utterly vacant.
Then she noticed the note on the nightstand.
It's me. Entered without permission. My apologies. Found you in the grips of a nightmare, resorted to a 'physical disruption technique' to break the cycle. Brewed some sleep potions for you. Harmless to the child. Take one before the next episode, sleep it off. I'll be frequenting academy training rooms lately. May not see you. The mechanized steward is at your disposal.
Lang Hao's wariness didn't ease; it coiled tighter. The intruder was sharp. Too sharp. She'd likely seen too much. Yet, a contradictory warmth warred with the chill. There was no malice here. For the first time in living memory, she'd slept through the night undisturbed.
"So this is what it feels like..." she whispered, the words hollow. She rose, moving mechanically through her routine. In the kitchen, the mechanized steward whirred. She accessed its command log. One hundred and eight instructions, all set during her sleep, each meticulously tailored for prenatal care. Professional. Beyond professional. It rivalled the most elite postnatal specialists.
"Master, any additional instructions?"
"No."
She ate her lunch in silence. Care and protection weren't novelties to her. They didn't stir her heart.
Yet, this was different. Ox was different.
For Yao, it was a minor interlude. Regarding the 'Zhou Linlang' dilemma, the best course was minimal contact, letting the Ministry investigate. Lang Hao's episode provided a perfect excuse to dive into seclusion and training.
Her intuition whispered that this 'Zhou,' real or not, would clear the review. The question was: would she seek contact?
As time passed, Lang Hao confirmed Ox's genuine busyness. Two months flew by with only three or four chance encounters. But each time they met, they made a point to be seen—watering plants in the front yard, chatting idly, a performance for the avid audience in the girls' dorm across the way.
Gradually, Dongguan settled into an understanding of their relationship. Harmonious, but not clingy. Natural, almost comfortable. It had the easy, settled vibe of a long-term arrangement, which made sense. A match like theirs wasn't built on sudden, passionate love. Both seemed pragmatic souls.
Peaceful coexistence.
Then came the third-month inter-academy assessment period. All four great academies buzzed. Rankings were everything. A list circulated, the usual suspects:
Western Jin Academy: Frolos (Dual-Born Clan), Xie Fuyun, Yun Zhuzhu, Li Chen, Que Baicen, Yu Qin, Yun Baobao, Zhang Doudou.
Northern Plate Academy: Moduola, Jing Juan'er, Nan Gong Hupo, Lang Xisi, Tom (Shadow-Skulk Felis Clan).
Southern Chen Academy: Wuxu, Czech (Sky-Soar Luminescent Muridae Clan), Haimosi, Chen Dao, Jiang Yousi.
Dongguan Academy: Zhao Ranxue, Carlo Diehl, Little Magic Flute, Wei Mingtang, Ox.
The top three were perennial champions. The rest were either close contenders or explosive newcomers. This year, four freshmen had clawed their way onto the list.
Yu Qin's rise was fueled by her status as the self-awakened, legitimately-recognized sole direct descendant of the Li Clan. Li Jie's favor meant resources poured in. Her digestion curve was at its peak.
Then there was Ox and Wei Mingtang. After their rooftop clash became known, Zhang Doudou and co. had stopped spectating and started grinding. A month later, they'd jointly defeated two mid-tier A-Class pillars, announcing their arrival. They'd even patched the flaw Ox had exploited.
Jiang Yousi, who'd entered via social recruitment, was a dark horse, though not as explosively dominant.
The end of March was frenzy. Students returned from dungeon dives for a last-minute assault on the five Trial Pagodas. Combat, Control, and Arcane were the mainstream. World Studies languished, but thanks to a certain Xie, the Alchemy Pagoda was now seen as the ultimate cheat code—a path for massive, class-leaping point gains.
Alchemy teachers were besieged. Gods, another batch of furnace-bombers!True talent in alchemy was rarer than in any other discipline.
Many feared Ox would pull another alchemical stunt, racking up another hundred thousand points. But her score rose steadily, not astronomically. It fit the theory: her previous feat was a one-time 'Lesser Heavenly Scripture' boost.
In a secluded garden of Western Jin, amidst artificial mountains and rare blooms, Xie Yiyuan walked with a plainly-dressed, older youth—Xie Fuyun. "Cousin, are you confident against Frolos this time?"
Xie Fuyun admired a flower, his demeanor detached. "Confidence isn't the point. We're schoolmates. Scores depend on personal skill. Don't get caught up in the family's politicking. I've never seen tearing others down lift anyone up."
Xie Yiyuan had never liked this cousin. His temperament was an aberration in the Xie family—serene, almost indolent. Yet, his talent was undeniable.
"Of course," Xie Yiyuan conceded, shifting tactics. "But with that branch-family upstart Ox clinging to Zhou Miao, and that woman being so... Do you think the master you acknowledged in the capital can pressure Zhou Miao?"
Xie Fuyun turned. His gaze was inscrutable. "Some things are not as they appear."
Cryptic. Deliberately so. Xie Yiyuan's mind, usually so twisted, suddenly went straight for the crudest explanation. "You mean Ox and Zhou Miao are... involved? Using her body?"
Xie Fuyun's composure cracked. A barely perceptible twitch near his eye. He turned, a faint sneer touching his lips, and walked away without another word.
Xie Yiyuan seethed. Family power was split three ways. Zhou Miao, with her extinct branch, had pulled in Ox. An outsider. But she was cunning, positioning herself as the balancing third force. The elders were too busy vying for her support to bother with junior squabbles.
He replayed Xie Fuyun's expression. Complex. Had he guessed half-right?
After they left, a shadow coalesced from the earth—Tutu, holding a package. He scurried to Yu Qin's quarters, delivered the goods, and relayed the overheard 'intel.'
Yu Qin checked the medicines, eyebrows rising at the salacious gossip. "He didn't sense you? Even Xie Fuyun?"
Tutu scratched his head. "Went back to the Warren Muridae tribe like you said. Didn't find my parents, but they let me soak in the gene-pool. Woke three innate talents. One is 'Earth-Meld.'"
Yu Qin sighed. The innate gifts of special races were unfair.
"Your parents' bloodline must be strong."
Tutu shook his head, a rare sadness in his eyes. "I remember a little. They left me. Too many pups. I was the weakest. They were ordinary. I was ordinary. Lived in the gutters. Then... a little girl fed me something. I changed after that. Don't know who she was."
"Must have been kind."
"Yeah. Pretty. Had eyes like glacial ice. She had a badge like yours, I think. Felt like a lightning bolt. She gave me something precious. She wasn't poor. If she left me... maybe something happened."
He fell silent. Years of resentment had given way to a duller, heavier ache.
Shen Qimo ruffled his fur. "Aren't you testing today?"
"Need these first." Yu Qin, now financially secure thanks to her 'unfortunate father,' still bought her crucial medicines from the Sage's Clinic. It was a legitimate way to stay connected to 'Sister Yao.'
At the Trial Pagodas, Yu Qin checked the rankings. Ox's points fluctuated slightly, then stopped. No last-minute sprint. Zhao Ranxue led Dongguan with 190k and climbing.
If Ox is here, then Yao is at the clinic...She noted Ox's rank and entered the Arcane Pagoda.
Tutu bought ice cream, scrolled news, and watched rankings, his adorable appearance drawing flocks of Western Jin girls. So cute!They'd never seen him snipe.
Yao, unaware of the commotion, was indeed point-grinding. She then teleported to the Alchemy building, entering a reserved lab. She wasn't crafting in the Pagoda—the failure penalty was too steep. Her current method involved using other Pagodas to farm points to offset alchemical losses. Her slow rank climb was because her gains were being constantly drained. It was the workaround she'd devised.
"The real Qin Minfeng has permanent access. I get this bootleg version," she grumbled, wiping soot from a minor explosion. But the constant failing, paired with the Pagoda's guidance, was building her foundational skill. She was using small, cheap projects as sacrificial offerings to safeguard her major endeavors.
Today's project: the Lesser Heavenly Scripture. Sellable. Self-usable. The ultimate goal was mastery. The formula was a tightly-guarded secret, the process far more complex than the Race Equation. If raw materials cost 100, the final product sold for 2000. Pure profit. Her method cut the loss rate. A few batches, and she'd have capital. Mass-produce the Scriptures, use them to ensure her other plans...
Step by step. Using profit to fuel greater profit.
The reaction chamber hummed, blue core-flame and molten copper dancing. Heat waves shimmered. Then... BOOM!
Yao, shielded by triple-layered wards and a turtle-shell amulet, dove under a table. She emerged, face blackened, hair smoldering. She pinched out the embers. Another sigh. Good thing Liu Wushi had only seen the pristine Yao.
Her comm rang. Leon. "Another explosion? Researching explosives now?"
"Just experimenting."
"Experiment my foot! Everyone says your first success was a fluke. The truth is showing."
"Can't argue with that." All thanks to Luck.
Leon huffed. "Rank 190. Not good. Quarterly rewards are substantial. Don't waste this. At least break the top 100."
Yao took the advice. She studied her notes, altered a single resonance variable, and began again.
Fifteen minutes later... a soft, golden glow filled the chamber. Hovering in the center was a thin, luminous foil covered in intricate axiomatic sigils.
Success. The technique was hers. Now, who to sell to?
She showered, washing away the grime, and scrolled her contacts. The call connected after a few rings.
"Wei Mingtang."
"Ox." The voice was cool, level. "You need something?"
"One Lesser Heavenly Scripture foil. Five million blues. Interested?"
A beat of silence. "Market price is four."
"Then you buy it, and I'll buy it from you for four-point-five. Bulk."
Another pause. Wei Mingtang couldn't possibly acquire one, not at this time. "You assume I can afford it."
"The Dean may not fund you, but you can earn it. A few rounds at the provincial Arena would suffice." Wei Mingtang's methods were brutally efficient.
"Deal. Thanks."
"My pleasure. Put in a good word for me with the Dean when you can." Always polishing the 'Ox' persona.
"Two days ago, she mentioned your aunt is her mortal enemy. She doesn't mind her being at Dongguan because she can dock her pay for tardiness. Technically, we're enemies."
"..."
So much for a powerful academy ally. Zhou Miao was building her a roster of adversaries from the ground up.
"Old grudges shouldn't bind the new generation. Update your mindset."
"I hear water. A water-type instance? Which floor?"
Yao blinked. "It's manageable. Just turned on the tap. Currently on the nineteenth floor. Good water pressure."
A shower. Said with such gravity. Wei Mingtang hung up.
The transaction was completed via campus courier. No meeting necessary.
Now significantly richer, Yao trimmed her burnt ends, changed, and sprinted for the Pagodas. The clerk, familiar with her by now, didn't look up. "In a rush? Someone die?"
"Thirty-six hours left. Of course I'm in a rush."
"Done. Your hair looks terrible."
"None of your business."
The news spread like wildfire. Zhao Ranxue saw it, then closed his comm and entered the Arcane Pagoda's sixth floor. Qing Quanyu and others were on the fifth. They couldn't see others' floors, only point fluctuations. Based on past data, Ox was likely on the second.
They were right. Yao had been using the lower floors' dense monster populations to grind her Infinite Control, not chasing rankings. Today was different.
Whoosh.Second floor. Twenty Level-20 Arcane Orbs. Destroy all with opposing axioms within the time limit.
Light threads lashed out, each imbued with a counter-axiom.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Seventeen seconds. Clear.
"Perfect Clear. Composite Coefficient 10. Bonus: +10,000 points."
Third Floor. A triangular platform over magma. Three hulking axiom-manifestation beasts: a Werwolf, an Ape-Demon, a Bear-Wraith. Each roared, unleashing three distinct energy fields.
Yao met them with Gravity and Luminous Restoration fields. The five fields collided in a crackling storm. She flowed into the interstices, a rifle materializing in her hands. Bang!The Werwolf staggered, then crouched, body swelling—Berserk Axiom! Simultaneously, the Ape-Demon leapt, axe-arm descending with Mountain-Cleave force, while the Bear-Wraith's chest-thump unleashed a sonic boom.
A triple assault. Yao didn't summon Thousand-Vine or use elemental theft. Pure axiom versus axiom yielded the highest score.
Twin Mirrors manifested. Four reflective surfaces. BOOM!Attacks rebounded. The beasts stumbled back, only to be caught in three swirling vortices.
"Heavy-Metal Adhesion Axiom, engage!"
The vortices became metallic, sheathing the monsters in grotesque shells. A single, fluid gesture from Yao. The gravity field split into three lotus-petal segments, yanking the encased beasts down with crushing, hundred-fold force into the molten rock below.
"Perfect Clear. Composite Coefficient 10. Bonus: +50,000 points. Proceed to Fourth Floor."
The fourth floor was a cavern of dripping chill and emerald eyes. Countless Dark-Axiom bats. A perfect clear was impossible here. The Bat King lurked within.
No hesitation. Tentacles erupted, voraciously draining ambient elements. Gravity and Restoration fields expanded, incorporating Wind Vortices and Mirror shards. Fusion, organization, synergy, logic. Constant regeneration, consumption, defense, attenuation, reinforcement. This was the essence of Infinite Flow, the Sovereign's dance of absolute control over every variable.
The swarm descended. A chaotic, violent ballet of light and shadow began.
Lang Hao had finished her runs, her rank hidden. The end-of-month festival at the central plaza was in full swing. Academies footed the bill for their top students. It was a tradition born of stress relief, now a city-wide spectacle.
She'd been invited by Dongguan staff—a precursor to her inevitable promotion to S-Class. She entered a lavish buffet hall packed with Dongguan faces. Before joining them, her eyes caught the massive screens broadcasting rankings and live feeds.
Her 'fiancé' was still ranked abysmally low...
She moved toward the Dongguan section. Zhao Ranxue and others noted her entrance. Gone was the flamboyant glory of her Western Jin days. Simpler clothes, yet her beauty seemed sharper, more devastating. Sea-wave hair, a face that held both the frost of winter plums and the vividness of summer peaches. She moved, and the very light in the room seemed to bend toward her.
Others stared. Some from Western Jin stood to greet her.
Then he appeared, materializing from the upper floor, one leg blocking the aisle. Crimson hair, a scar bisecting his face, a predator's smile. Que Baicen. A persistent, scorned suitor from her Western Jin days.
"Lang Hao. Long time."
Dongguan's S-Class set down their drinks, rising as one.
"Ox," Que Baicen drawled the name. "Your 'careful' selection. Rank 190. A Dongguan 190."
The insult was dual-layered. Dongguan's pride prickled.
Lang Hao thought of Ox's frantic schedule, the 108 meticulous instructions for the mechanized steward. "It wasn't a selection," she said, her voice cool and flat. "There was only ever one."
"Really? I heard there was a Xie boy a few months back. I didn't know your taste in brothers was so... consistent."
The air chilled. Dongguan students now understood Wei Mingtang's fury a bit better.
Lang Hao, who had indeed ended one 'brother,' remained impassive. "If I choose a man, there is one. Others are irrelevant."
She moved to pass. Que Baicen shifted, blocking her path.
Just as Zhao Ranxue stepped forward, another figure slid in from the entrance—Fu Qiang, slinging a comradely arm around Que Baicen's neck. "Que, my man! Long time! Been swamped with your academy's gemstone contracts. Twelve blue-grade veins! I look like a coal miner, don't I?"
Que Baicen stiffened.
"My mentor just got promoted to Provincial Guild President," Fu Qiang continued, smile unwavering. "Keeps dumping work on me. A real pain. You're not gonna make it worse, are you? Business might fall through. So envious of you combat geniuses. Me? Just a useless biz major."
The threat, veiled in camaraderie, was clear. Que Baicen weighed it, his face darkening, and finally stepped aside.
Crisis averted. Fu Qiang's 'useless' display of soft power had worked.
But then, a stammer from the crowd. "Uh... looks like it's not 190 anymore."
On the screen, a certain name had just leapt 50 places. Rank 140. A six-point jump.
Was that it?
Lang Hao walked to the buffet, collected three servings of condiments, and placed them on the S-Class table. A silent statement.
Ox was coming. And she knew he belonged here.
Fu Qiang, and by extension the Fu family, now had the Provincial Guild's backing. He had a seat at this table.
The first point remained to be seen. Six points? Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen, waiting. The real contest had just begun.