In other words, the key to successfully completing this role-play challenge lay in whether Yan Zhen could step into the Body Refining Threshold in time to mount a counterattack.
In reality, Yan Zhen had already reached the Body Refining Entry Realm. If not for the role-playing task, he could have denied his opponent any chance to advance and knocked Xiao Mie off the stage right from the start.
So… he won.
The process hadn’t been easy, but he had won nonetheless.
In the fourth stage of their clash, the two were evenly matched. Yet Yan Zhen’s stamina proved more enduring, and his body more resilient. When Xiao Mie finally collapsed from exhaustion, Yan Zhen was still standing tall and straight, claiming victory.
The outcome left the gathered students and mentors alike in utter disbelief.
Yan Zhen, a mere Seven-Star Mystic Practitioner, had defeated Xiao Mie after his breakthrough to the Mystic Scholar Realm and seized the top spot on the Nine Stars Ranking. If they hadn’t witnessed it themselves, no one would have believed it.
Admiration, awe, envy, resentment… a hundred different reactions rippled through the crowd. But one thing they all agreed on:
It had been a spectacular fight.
In the cutthroat life-or-death struggles of the outside world, it might not qualify as “brutal.” But within the sheltered ivory tower of the academy—in the minds of these young sprouts—it pushed far beyond their psychological limits.
Both Yan Zhen and Xiao Mie had driven themselves to the brink. One broke through to a new realm; the other followed suit. The battle grew fiercer with every exchange until they were utterly spent. In doing so, they showed the watching seniors and juniors alike what a true fight really meant!
It wasn’t just a clash of Mystic Power and Mystic Techniques—it was a test of wills and convictions.
After the dean declared Yan Zhen’s victory, he immediately ordered the bout recorded in the academy’s textbooks for future new students to study.
Yan Zhen heard the verdict, and with his last ounce of strength gone, his vision went black. He collapsed into a soft, fragrant embrace and lost consciousness.
His final thought was of that damn script.
When he awoke, the first thing he saw was the familiar wooden bed frame.
Yan Zhen blinked, trying to sit up, only to find his limbs and back devoid of strength—as if Mentor Yu Xuan had drained him dry.
As that thought crossed his mind, Mentor Yu Xuan’s delighted voice came from beside him.
“Yan Zhen, how are you feeling?”
It took him a moment to respond.
“Mentor Yu Xuan… when did I get back?”
“You’ve been out for a full day and night,” she said with a wry smile tinged with heartache. She reached out with a slender hand to smooth the hair from his forehead. “Luckily, your injuries weren’t too severe. I treated you with Water Mystic Force, so you’re basically fine now. Don’t worry.”
“I see.” Yan Zhen licked his dry lips and managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Mentor.”
“Thirsty? Let me get you some water.”
Mentor Yu Xuan rose from the bedside, fetched the pitcher from the round table, and poured a cup of cool water. She sat back down, gently lifted Yan Zhen’s head to rest against her chest, and fed him sips while chiding him softly.
“I told you not to push yourself so hard, but you never listen. You nearly scared me half to death.”
She worried even more precisely because she knew how it would end.
In his previous life, Yan Zhen had suffered grave wounds and taken three days to even get out of bed. Who knew if this time might be worse?
Fortunately, the worst hadn’t come to pass.
With his mouth and throat soothed, Yan Zhen let out a contented sigh. He tilted his head slightly and murmured, “Sorry for worrying you all. I didn’t expect things to drag on like that with Xiao Mie. We just… got carried away in the heat of it.”
“Don’t do it again. Your path ahead is long—don’t burn through your future like that.”
She said it, but Mentor Yu Xuan knew her words would fall on deaf ears.
Yan Zhen would keep taking risks, even staking his life to save her.
At the thought, her gaze softened further. She wiped a stray droplet from the corner of his mouth with her fingers.
“More water?”
“I want to sleep.”
“Mm. Your body’s still recovering. Sleep more, and you’ll be right as rain.”
“You don’t have to watch over me, Mentor. Go rest yourself.”
“I’ll leave once you’re asleep.”
“…”
Yan Zhen drifted off into a deep slumber.
When he woke again, the familiar bed frame was gone. Instead, his view was dominated by a pair of magnificent G-cup peaks, blocking out most of Beautiful Female Master’s stunning face.
His mind still foggy, he suddenly recalled the Healing Holy Medicine from last time—and an urge stirred within him.
“Awake, Zhen’er?”
“Master.”
Yan Zhen’s voice came out frail, like a sick child’s, laced with a hint of wheedling—as if pleading with Beautiful Female Master for what he craved.
Chen Xi caught the implication at once. A blush colored her cheeks, but a thread of joy warmed her heart. Her autumn-water eyes brimmed with maternal tenderness.
“Don’t talk. Close your eyes. Master will feed you the medicine.”
Yan Zhen obediently shut his eyes. Moments later, something soft and tender—like a peeled grape—slipped into his mouth. He bit down gently, drawing out the secret elixir that would swiftly restore his body.
The sweet medicinal juice slid down his throat into his stomach, where its potent energy bloomed. Warmth filled his belly, then spread through his limbs, reviving his stiff, powerless muscles.
Sensing the positive rush, Yan Zhen instinctively grasped the thin, juice-filled sac with his hand. He swirled his tongue greedily, devouring it with big, eager gulps, lost in the moment.
Some time later, sated, he slept like an infant—contented, even smacking his lips in his dreams as if savoring the lingering sweetness.
When he stirred for the third time, he was back on the bed in his room. The bedside was crowded with people. As he sat up, five pairs of eyes fixed on him, nearly startling him.
“Cousin, are you okay?”
“Anywhere still hurting, Little Brother Yan Zhen?”
“You’ve slept for two days now. If something’s not right, just say so.”
The three women voiced their concern in quick succession.
Yan Zhen shook his head to show he was fine. He stretched his limbs, and his body crackled with satisfying pops. Pure bliss.
“Good to hear.”
That came from Xiao Xinyan. Yan Zhen turned to her at once.
“Senior Sister Xinyan, how’s Big Brother Xiao Mie doing?”
Xiao Xinyan was surprised that Yan Zhen cared enough to ask, but delight followed swiftly.
“I just checked on him. Big Brother Xiao Mie’s still out. Mentor Mo says it’ll be another half day or so.”
“No major issues?”
“None.”
Yan Zhen nodded and gestured for the women to make way as he swung his legs off the bed to put on his shoes.
But the moment he lifted the thin sheet, something felt off.
A chill swept over his bare skin—he wasn’t wearing a stitch!
—Holy crap!
Yan Zhen yanked the sheet back down in a flash, covering his impressive manhood. He shot a glare at the four women and said coolly, “Hey… did you all see?”
Their cheeks flushed pink, eyes sparkling with mischief. Yan Ruyu and Xiao Xinyan covered their faces with their hands, though their fingers splayed wide enough to peek through.
At his question, they all shook their heads in unison, striving for wide-eyed innocence.
“N-No.”
Yan Zhen’s face darkened. I’m no longer pure!
