"I…" Han Shuo opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Lian had already launched a flurry of punches at him. The pretty boy cursed as he hit, voice cracking with humiliated fury, "Damned Bryan, you actually kissed me! My first kiss was stolen by a lunatic errand slave… Heavens, this is too scary, I'm going to kill you!"
After the heated, desperate kiss, Han Shuo's heart was in utter chaos. It had been Lian's first time—but it was also Han Shuo's. The soft, rosy lips, the sweet taste, the way Lian's slender body had stiffened beneath him… the memory alone made heat pool low in his belly.
Lian's beautiful face was flushed with terror and lingering shock. The pain in his round, perky backside made every punch weak and ineffective. Han Shuo didn't feel the slightest sting; instead, he let the pretty boy vent while his mind raced for a way to calm the situation—and perhaps turn it to his advantage later.
Lian finally tired after a while, eyes red and swollen, yet still glaring at Han Shuo with an ominous glint. After catching his breath, the slender boy frowned and said coldly, "Bryan, I'll let you go today if you tell me one thing."
Han Shuo stared blankly for a moment before asking dumbly, "Tell you what?"
"Why have you become stronger and stronger recently? You couldn't even dodge skeletal warriors before, but now even zombie warriors can't touch you. You taught that idiot Bach a lesson last time. Claude's fighting aura clearly entered your body this morning—why didn't you die? What's the reason for all of this?" Lian stared intently at Han Shuo, beautiful eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Startled, Han Shuo cursed inwardly. His body had indeed grown stronger through demonic yuan, and he hadn't expected the sharp-eyed pretty boy to notice so quickly.
After thinking quickly, Han Shuo smiled foolishly and said, "I… I don't know either. I just ate something weird recently that made my body feel stronger and stronger."
Lian's eyes lit up at once. The pretty boy leaned closer in high spirits, soft golden hair brushing Han Shuo's shoulder, voice eager, "What did you eat? Tell me and I won't pursue this… this kiss anymore."
"Mix the lizard-tailed aardwolf tooth with the magic reagent… soak it in warm water for a day and drink it all. You'll get better stamina." Han Shuo frowned, pretending to think, then answered with that same silly smile.
Lian listened with solemn focus, repeating the words under his breath. "Eh? Can disgusting things like that really have this effect when mixed together?"
Han Shuo didn't answer, just kept smiling foolishly while his gaze drifted over Lian's flushed cheeks, the delicate curve of his neck, and the way the black mage robe clung to his slender, feminine frame—already imagining claiming every inch of that beauty through slow, earned possession.
"Hmph, I'll let you off today. I'll find you to practice magic next time." Lian thought for a moment, then stood up gingerly, rubbing his tender backside with a wince. "Damned Bryan, how can you kick so hard? Why am I so unlucky every time I run into you lately?!"
Lian cursed softly as he limped out of the training field, still massaging the round, perky curve Han Shuo had just claimed with his palm and foot. The moment the door closed behind the pretty boy, Han Shuo slipped out as well, heart still racing from the kiss and the feel of that soft, elastic flesh under his hand.
When night fell and the academy quieted, Han Shuo snuck to the garbage dump and tried to call Little Skull with his mental strength. The command went unanswered. With no choice, he endured the stench and rummaged through the trash until he found the little skeleton buried beneath a pile of waste.
Little Skull lay paralyzed, ribs cracked and clattering, looking half-dead. Through their faint connection, Han Shuo knew the creature wasn't destroyed—yet the sight still twisted something protective in his chest. This loyal little thing had carried out his vengeful order against Lian and paid the price.
"Claude… just you wait. I'll settle this debt with you sooner or later—perhaps by making that handsome knight kneel beside his pretty protégé."
Han Shuo gently lifted Little Skull, the broken ribs clanging softly as he hurried back through the dark. Once safely inside the warehouse, he placed the skeleton back into the wooden barrel, found seven broken bones as substitutes, arranged the "Yin Magical Concentration Matrix," and poured in fresh demonic yuan to begin repairing the demonic treasure.
This time, the process felt easier. The demonic yuan flowed more smoothly, stronger after devouring Claude's fighting aura. Han Shuo smiled faintly—his power was growing exactly as the demonic path demanded.
After settling Little Skull, Han Shuo pulled out *The Foundations of Necromancy* and the *Magical Dictionary*, studying late into the night. Though the books were basic, they still held mysteries for a novice like him.
Sighing, he set them aside. Ten days of magic study wasn't enough to master everything. He decided to eavesdrop on actual classes whenever he could.
Calming his mind, Han Shuo sank into meditation once more, demonic yuan circulating as he strengthened his mental force. He meditated until deep into the night before falling into peaceful sleep.
Early the next morning, Han Shuo woke full of energy, as if endless strength coursed through his veins. Little Skull remained quietly refining in the barrel; the seven whirlpools spun gently, dark light flickering, and the cracked ribs had already begun knitting back together. The empty eye sockets now glowed with a faint, eerie intelligence.
Han Shuo reached out mentally and felt Little Skull's joy at being reborn. He smiled and murmured, "Little Skull, you're lucky to follow me. As long as my demonic yuan grows stronger, I'll keep refining you—making you faster, tougher, deadlier. Soon enough, that arrogant knight Claude will regret ever touching you… and I'll claim both him and his pretty favorite Lian in the process."
After tossing yesterday's trash and washing up, Han Shuo energetically cleaned the stone statues, finished his chores, grabbed his black bread, and—broom in hand—hurried excitedly toward the necromancy classroom to eavesdrop.
"If magic is to be released perfectly, incantations and hand gestures are interconnected. If either is wrong, the magic fails. Magic is a mysterious power. Through mental strength and profound incantations, one borrows elemental energy from the heavens and earth, then directs it at the target through precise gestures…"
The necromancy students listened—some lazily, some attentively—to Teacher Gene's lecture. Han Shuo, hidden by the window, swept the floor with slow, unconscious strokes, completely absorbed.
Gene, an adept necromancer like Master Fin, taught foundations and helped with difficult points. Fin handled practical training and auxiliary spells. With so few students in necromancy, only two teachers existed—both adept mages. Higher archmages were rare in a declining major.
Han Shuo listened with rapt focus, a faint, satisfied smile on his lips. In mere minutes, several concepts he'd struggled with became clear. Gene's dull voice sounded like music to his ears.
Plop.
A student in a loose mage robe suddenly tripped right in front of Han Shuo, landing face-first on the white jade floor with his butt high in the air. He scrambled up, grimacing, and glared at Han Shuo. "Bryan, you dare trip me with your broom?!"
"Ah, I… I was only sweeping!" Han Shuo panicked, smiling foolishly.
The student was Fitch—tall, thin, light-blue hair, bony frame swimming in his robe. A journeyman mage desperate to become an adept. He'd just returned from another failed trial.
Han Shuo had been so engrossed in the lecture that his broom had wandered. No surprise it caught Fitch.
"Eh, Fitch is back. Heh heh, failed again? Keep working hard if you want to become an adept mage. Teacher welcomes you back. Bryan must have done it unintentionally—don't take it to heart!" Gene called lightly from inside the classroom, tone mocking.
Han Shuo cursed Gene inwardly for meddling. Fitch's temper wasn't the worst, but he was infatuated with Master Fin. The main reason Fitch trained so relentlessly was Fin's casual remark: "I'll only consider it when you become an adept mage."
That unrequited tension between teacher and student made them natural rivals. Gene's "help" had just made things worse.
Fitch's face darkened. He glared at Han Shuo, then at Gene, fists clenched. The classroom tension thickened instantly.
Han Shuo kept his foolish smile, but inside, dark anticipation stirred. *Another pretty, ambitious boy chasing Master Fin… and now angry at me. Perfect. More rivals to conquer, more devotion to earn through strength and desire.*
He swept the broom again—slowly, deliberately—eyes gleaming with possessive hunger.