Chen He's initial shock at Yao's bodily regeneration was a fleeting tremor, quickly swallowed by the cold certainty of his strategy. A cruel smile touched his lips as he unleashed his true gambit: an Axiom Field—the Incineration Furnace. The world didn't just heat up; it transmuted. The very air shimmered, buckling under waves of visible heat that rose from the ground and descended from the sky, creating a sealed, oven-like domain. The oxygen grew thin, scorching the lungs with every breath. Even if Yao's core could withstand the direct damage, this infernal heat was a scalpel targeting the very essence of her plant-based regeneration, seeking to wither her cellular vitality at its source .
This man… he's no brute,Yao realized, a cold knot tightening in her stomach despite the surrounding blaze. The Furnace wasn't just power; it was a precise counter. A battle of attrition was now a death sentence. She had to end this, fast.
But time was a luxury she didn't have. Chen He's third spear strike arrived not as a projectile, but as a scream of concentrated hellfire. BOOM!The sound was a physical force, followed by the visceral tear of flesh and feathered membrane. Her entire left wing and the shoulder it was anchored to were vaporized in a burst of light and agony. The disparity was staggering—years of training, superior equipment, potent familiars, and a deep-seated axiom foundation against her desperate, cobbled-together power. She was utterly outclassed, a testament to the chasm between raw talent and seasoned mastery.
Plummeting from the sky, the world a dizzying, inverted whirl, Yao felt the Furnace's effect taking hold. Her regeneration stuttered, the familiar flow of healing energy faltering like a parched stream. Below, the arena floor yawned like an abyss. Above, her inverted opponent loomed, a cold smiling demon silhouetted against the fiery haze, his fourth spear already drawn, poised to deliver the final, heavenly punishment. In that moment of freefall, a profound isolation gripped her. I am, and always will be, an outsider here. For in this entire world, at this second, only I am falling.
In the restaurant, Fu Qiang was a statue of tension, his forgotten coffee cold in his hand, eyes glued to the screen. His gaze flickered to Lang Hao, only to find her with an unsettling, almost ethereal calm, meticulously deboning a piece of fish. Little sister, your composure is either incredibly reassuring or utterly terrifying.
As if sensing his thought, Lang Hao looked up, her eyes meeting the screen just as the figure fell. Not like a punished angel—Ox was no angel. More like a solitary soul rejected by both heaven and earth, walking resolutely against the flow of a crowd, their unified, gleaming spears pointed directly at her chest. To walk that path meant allowing the spears to pierce through, letting the flesh ache and the soul embrace its loneliness, until that very loneliness became its own brilliant, defiant light.
And then…
The falling figure spread her hands. In the heartbeat before the killing spear could find its mark, space itself shatteredaround her outstretched palms. The shards didn't fly apart; they swirled, drawn by an invisible will, re-knitting into eighteen interlocking planes of polished light. Mirrors. A perfect, irregular diamond of a mirrored space blossomed around her.
The Mirror Field.Enlightenment dawned in the heart of desperation.
A tri-fold force field activated. The furnace's flames, lashing against the new barrier, didn't dissipate; they ricocheted, their own heat siphoned and absorbed by the gleaming surfaces. As Yao's body continued its descent, it seemed to bloom. From her grievous wounds, thick, questing vines and spectral tendrils erupted. They detached, fueled by the mirrored axiom's power, projecting four perfect, solid copies of Ox into the air around Chen He.
From different points in the fiery sky, the four raised their hands. Barrels of solidified light took aim. From the hidden dimensional folds, the Thousand-Vine, now gorged on stolen elements, delivered a cataclysmic surge of power.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Five shots rang out in perfect, devastating unison.
Chen He's arrogance evaporated into stark. There was no time for thought, only instinct. His Second Sequence—fully charged and dormant until now—erupted. WHOOSH!His body became a nucleus of an inferno, swelling into a colossal, armored fire titan, a demigod of flame standing astride the sky. He gripped his spear with both hands, the weapon now wreathed in living magma, and plunged downward in a meteoric strike meant to erase his opponent completely. This was his hidden ace, the kill he never thought he'd need. Now that it was unleashed, Ox hadto die.
But just as the spear began its descent, the five bullets found their mark. BANG! BANG! BANG!The titan's armor held, shaking violently but repelling the direct assault. Its defense was astronomical, surpassing three million units—an impenetrable fortress .
Yet, the bullets didn't drop. They rebounded. Chen He stared, bewildered; his armor possessed no reflective property. The projectiles caromed off the enclosing mirrored walls. BANG! BANG! BANG!Upon impact, they didn't stop; they reversed course with even greater velocity, joining a storm of new fire from the clones.
An endless, chaotic ballet of ricochets began. The Thousand-Vine, hidden behind the mirrors, pumped near-limitless energy into the system, not just sustaining the bullets but amplifying their force with each pass. The storm intensified, the number of lethal trajectories multiplying exponentially within the diamond prison.
Under this relentless, omni-directional assault, Chen He's titan form trembled uncontrollably. Aiming his spear became impossible. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through his fury. He abandoned his attack and thrust the spear at the nearest mirror. "BREAK, DAMN YOU!"
BOOM!!!The spear struck true, but the complete Mirror Field activated its final property: damage reflection. A colossal wave of pure force, amplified by the very energy of his strike and the superimposed bullet storm, slammed back into him.
In the span of two breaths, hundreds of energized trajectories crisscrossed the space. The fire titan shuddered, cracks appearing in its brilliant armor, and then… BOOM!It exploded into a shower of dying embers.
Chen He reverted to his true form, crashing to the ground, body broken and spirit shattered. Yet, driven by bitter instinct, his wings flared weakly, propelling him in a final, desperate lunge towards Yao's original body, spear aimed for her throat.
Yao had anticipated it. Her remaining wing beat hard, executing a graceful, spinning roll in mid-air. On the screens, the loose white shirt she wore, whipped by the violent motion, rode up, revealing a fleeting glimpse of a slender, taut, and pale waist, the hint of defined abdominal muscle beneath .
The four clones converged on her, re-merging—they were, after all, extensions of the Thousand-Vine, having absorbed tremendous external energy. Their return triggered an instantaneous, volcanic surge within her. Attributes skyrocketed to three million.
Absorption. Conversion. Regeneration. Division. Projection. Reintegration. Eruption.
The old Dean's envisioned "Infinite Flow" technique reached a milestone—50% completion.
And then, in the halo of radiant light, the figure descended. The one whose waist seemed gilded by an angel's touch pressed a finger gently against the fallen Chen He's temple.
Bang.
Annihilation.
Chen He materialized outside the combat zone, a testament to his defeat. Yao landed hard, stumbling to her knees, sweat pouring down her face, blood trickling from her ears. Her aura fluctuated wildly like a guttering candle. Forcibly splitting into four avatars had drained her to the absolute brink; every nerve screamed in protest. A pyrrhic victory. In her current state, even the weakest E-Class student could finish her. The standard five-minute recovery period was a cruel joke for damage this profound. Hearing the system announce "+50,000 points," she chose to forfeit the eleventh match and staggered out.
Outside, she encountered a scene of greater distress. Chen He, surrounded by medics, had barely escaped permanent erasure. The psychic backlash left his mind reeling, blood still seeping from his seven orifices, giving him a ghastly appearance. "So you got your points," he spat, voice thick with venom and pain. "You still can't break the top twenty. I have 420,000. I admit your strength, but—"
His words died as Yao's score flickered and leaped another 180,000 points. 376,000 + 180,000 = 556,000.
Whoosh!Her name shot up to 17th place on the Dongguan leaderboard, now above Wei Mingtang.
Chen He: "…?"
Leaning heavily against the wall, Yao looked at him, her voice a weak thread of sound. "Fool. Didn't you know you can earn points in World Studies, too?"
Then, she raised her hand towards him and the other grim-faced A-Class spectators, and calmly, deliberately, extended her middle finger.
The crowd: "!!!"
Damn!
Wei Mingtang, exiting the Arcane Pagoda opposite, saw the gesture. A complex emotion flickered in her eyes. Considering the Lesser Heavenly Scripture Yao had sold her had been instrumental in her own breakthroughs… she simply lowered her head and walked away, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips. This person is… insufferable. She sells me something she can't use, and I still can't surpass her. Does this mean a lifetime of chasing her shadow?
Inside the restaurant, the atmosphere had resumed a facade of normalcy, a fragile mask over simmering tension. Many sat in silence, on edge, wishing only to leave before Ox arrived.
Que Baicen's face was a thundercloud. He ate mechanically, the food like ash in his mouth, his mind weaving dark fantasies of familial assassins. The door swung open.
A freshly showered Yao walked in, dressed as casually as ever in a simple white shirt. Yet, many female students found their eyes drawn, almost magnetically, to her waist. In a world of Arcane Masters, well-toned physiques were commonplace.
But somehow… this was different.
Lang Hao glanced up, sensing the shift in attention. Amused, she also cast a sidelong look at Yao, who caught the strange expression but said nothing. As Yao took her seat, the restaurant, catering to the academy elite, presented a new signature dish.
"Esteemed guests, our new creation: Duck Blood and Spirit-Thread Bean Sprout Soup. Note the pristine whiteness and slender form of the sprouts, brimming with cultivated spiritual energy. Please, enjoy."
The mark of a high-class establishment was turning humble ingredients into sublime experiences. And it seemed to work on these discerning students!
Everyone: "!"
Que Baicen: "…" Is this wretched place mocking me or Ox?
Yao, unaware of the earlier context, glanced politely at the dish. "Looks quite refined. Lang Hao, would you care for a bowl?" The dutiful fiancé act was impeccably maintained.
Lang Hao's expression grew even more inscrutable.
The tense normalcy held until the door opened again. Yao's pulse quickened. Zhou Linlang and the white-robed Director entered. Lang Hao saw them too, and noted the subtle tension in Yao's hand, the chopsticks pressing just a bit too hard into the plate. This bargain fiancé of mine holds more secrets than a locked grimoire,she thought, sipping her water impassively.
The Dongguan teachers rose to greet the newcomers. They were there to pick up a pre-ordered specialty dish, not to dine. Their party was likely nearby—and probably included more significant figures.
Fortunately, Zhou Linlang didn't approach, only letting her gaze sweep impersonally across the room. Their dish arrived, as did the same item for Yao's table.
The moment the dish was placed before Lang Hao, trouble began. The soup was clear, a translucent broth holding a vividly red fish, expertly sliced. It smelled fresh, fragrant. But to Lang Hao, it triggered a violent, overwhelming wave of nausea. "My apologies," she managed, her voice strained. "I'm feeling unwell."
She tried to rise, but a wave of dizziness and a powerful, uncontrolled energy fluctuation erupted from her. She swayed, hand gripping the table for support.
Fu Qiang reacted instantly. "A-Zhe!"
He and Yao moved simultaneously, catching her. The two Life-affinity teachers present rushed over, their examinations yielding only complex, hesitant silence. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. For Fu Qiang and Lang Hao, the thought was clear: Exposed. Months ahead of schedule.
Yao knew the risk wasn't hers, but the sudden, palpable presence of the growing life within—a life she'd indirectly cared for through 108 meticulous instructions and occasional meals—stirred something deeper than calculation. It was a connection forged through mundane care. Her inherent decency refused to let her ignore the potential danger to the child.
She made a decision. Gently, she pulled Lang Hao closer, a light, reassuring pat on her head. "I told you," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby. "I've been ready to welcome our little angel anytime."
"Don't be afraid."
By claiming responsibility, she transformed the 'accident' into intention.
A flicker of surprise, then something softer, passed through Lang Hao's pain. She instinctively gripped Yao's wrist, bowing her head, her eyes suspiciously bright.
The reactions around them varied, but Que Baicen and Zhan Xuandong's faces were portraits of pure, unadulterated agony. Their goddess, pregnant, with a fiancé whose star was rising meteorically… Could fate be crueler?
This restaurant is cursed,Yao thought, her mind racing. That dish was tampered with, something to stimulate a pregnant woman. The Li family made their move.But Zhou Linlang and the Director personally come to buy fish? Whoever commanded their presence was no minor player. The big sharks were circling nearby. They needed to leave.
The aftermath was a blur of awkward congratulations, deftly handled by a smiling,red envelope-distributing Fu Qiang. But as they stepped outside, they walked straight into the departing party from the neighboring restaurant.
There, at the center, surrounded by an aura of authority, was the formidable Economic Minister, Xiao Lun. With him were core figures from the major clans, including Li Jie and Xie Yiyuan's grandfather, Vice-Deans, military and intelligence officials… and the Vice-Dean of the Sage's Clinic. A conclave of power, right next door.
Yao's instinct was to flee. She averted her eyes from Xiao Lun, taking Lang Hao's wrist to guide her away.
Then, a voice, languid and cutting, sliced through the air. "I hear your Ox is expecting… Siyi, as the aunt, shouldn't you offer some congratulations?"
Zhou Miao descended the escalator from the upper-floor boutiques, a vision of casual elegance in a simple silver-grey dress, her hair tied with a red coral band. She moved with the lazy, unpredictable grace of a feral cat, her eyes—the source of the Xie family's 'Demon Orchid' power—holding a deep, unsettling light . She ignored the others, her gaze fixed on Yao.
"Just learned about the child… an unexpected delight."
"Though the aura is somewhat… peculiar."
She approached Lang Hao, her presence so intimidating that Lang Hao instinctively retreated a step. Zhou Miao reached out, her fingers nearly brushing Lang Hao's abdomen.
Slap!
Yao's hand caught Zhou Miao's wrist.
The air froze. Fu Qiang's heart hammered against his ribs. Xiao Lun raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Zhou Miao turned her head slowly, her eyes meeting Yao's.
Yao released the grip, her voice soft, almost placating. "Auntie."
"Aren't you happy to become a great-aunt?"
Zhou Miao's composure cracked for a microsecond. "…Great-aunt?" A faint, genuine laugh escaped her. She rubbed her wrist theatrically. "Let the child be born first. Let me see if it's… appealing. Preferably a girl. Pretty. Intelligent. A fine actor. Tender-hearted yet virtuous. Powerful, yet delicate."
Lang Hao: "…" Even the Ministry of Personnel isn't this specific.
Yao felt the layers in her words. "Boy or girl, taking after their mother is fine. Best not to resemble me."
"Perhaps like me. It is a Xie, after all," Zhou Miao said offhandedly.
This woman is diabolical,Yao thought. "Auntie, your people are everywhere. Are you running a trafficking ring?" she asked, her smile perfectly polite.
Zhou Miao's eyes narrowed slightly. This child is getting bold.
Xiao Lun chuckled. "Zhou Miao, this nephew is defective. You should get a new one."
Zhou Miao turned. "So your Economic Department can pick her up?"
Xiao Lun shrugged into his suit jacket, handed to him by an aide. "Since you accuse me so unjustly, I find myself genuinely curious to meet this youngster." He turned his formidable attention to Lang Hao. "Miss Fu, would you mind if I borrowed your fiancé for a moment?"
Who could refuse the Economic Minister? No one.
Zhou Miao merely smiled, a predator's lazy grin. "Then I, as the aunt, shall have to look after my niece-in-law."
Lang Hao and Yao exchanged a look of shared dread. Fu Qiang looked positively ill.
With effortless grace, Xiao Lun guided Yao to a secluded room, guarded by his personnel.
Yao's mind raced. Why? Because of Zhou Linlang? Thankfully, she was in her separate form.
"You seem tense," Xiao Lun remarked, pouring tea with an air of casual authority.
"One would be, Minister," Yao replied, her fingers nervously twisting her shirt.
The Economic Ministry was notorious—all sharp suits and sharper minds. Xiao Lun embodied it: the tailore suit, the crisp tie, the vest, his features sharp yet his aura deep and classical, a blend of elite financier and seasoned political schemer .
"Might I ask the purpose of this meeting?"
"I was wondering if you could invite Miss Yao to the Economic Department for a visit sometime."
Yao chose her words carefully. "Inspector Zhou is closer to her. Wouldn't an invitation from her be more appropriate?"
"You've already rejected Linlang. Not a single reply," he said, smiling as he poured. "She's been favorable towards you. Your reaction seems… out of character." He had, of course, investigated their communications.
"She is under review. Avoiding complications is perhaps my… cowardice. And I have a fiancée now. Maintaining appropriate distance is only proper. Would you fault me for that?"
"Not at all. In truth, this meeting has little purpose. Anything I could learn from you would be your own secrets, irrelevant to my greater concerns."
"Yet you met with me privately," Yao mused. "Which means the act itself isthe purpose. A performance for an audience."
"For the TK Group?"
Xiao Lun sipped his tea, calm and steady. "So you know you're a target."
"If it's them… then tell me, do you believe this Inspector Zhou is the one you knew? Don't perfunctory me. I've always wondered why she favors you so. You must share some… unspoken understanding. The details between a man and a woman reveal the true nature, after all. Professional conduct is merely a mask" .
Yao nearly sighed. This Minister looks like a supreme elite, but his theory on interpersonal dynamics is staggeringly naive.Yet, he wasn't entirely wrong about Zhou Linlang's character peeking through around her.
Her thoughts spiraled. Is this some warped remnant of Qin Minfeng's perverted romantic luck? He always got the girl and the treasure. What did I get? A child? And the attention of a major dark organization?
Tonight's summary: Yes, we have a child. And yes, I'm now on the radar of the province's largest shadow syndicate and the Economic Ministry. The Xie ancestral graves must be spewing black smoke.
"I'm afraid I cannot assist you, Minister," she said, feeling utterly out of her depth.
Xiao Lun smiled, setting down his cup. "You can. I said I'd pay. Full cooperation."
"Cooperate, and you receive an Orange-Grade egg. Succeed, and add an Economic Ministry First-Class Honor Medal."
The value was staggering. In her past life, such a medal was worth a full set of top-tier gear. It was a unique advantage, impossible to obtain through normal means .
Yao, who had stood to leave, paused… then sat back down, straightening her posture.
"Very well, Minister. Please, elaborate on the plan. Let me see what humble services this loyal hound or horse can render" .
Later, she would attribute it to the the evil instinct of a resource merchant. And the cold calculation that refusal would leave her alone against the TK Group, while the Economic Ministry's old dogs would always prioritize the bigger picture over a single, expendable life.
What was Ox, after all, but a pawn?