Three months ago, he had been merely an Eight-Star Mystic Practitioner. Three months later, he… he had become a Mystic Master?!
The students and mentors alike were utterly astonished. Such a meteoric rise in cultivation was simply absurd! Even those who practiced forbidden evil arts couldn’t advance this quickly, could they?
The Mingkong Heir, who had just issued a challenge to Yan Zhen moments before, stood frozen in place, his face flushing red then draining pale by turns.
Yan Zhen paid no heed to the clamor around him. His eyes locked onto Mentor Yu Xuan. The instant she drew her bow, his body rocketed forward.
Starlight twinkled as he carved a starry trail through the air, evading the watery arrows while closing the distance to her in a flash.
Mentor Yu Xuan retreated while continuing to loose arrows, each one aimed with vicious precision at Yan Zhen’s joints.
Yan Zhen raised his greatsword high, both hands channeling mystic power into a blazing surge of sword qi that he slashed downward. It collided with her water arrows in a thunderous explosion.
Boom!
The deafening blast silenced the arena. This clash was nothing like the prior student-mentor spars—this was a battle between two Mystic Masters!
Mystic power sliced through the air, striking foes from ten paces, a hundred paces away. At times, they closed for brutal hand-to-hand with Mystic Force Armor; at others, they unleashed long-range barrages of mystic power gales. The fight’s rhythm was blisteringly intense—neither Mystic Practitioners nor Mystic Scholars could keep up. Anyone caught in the crossfire would be obliterated in an instant.
Mystic Masters were rare in the academy, limited to the mentors. In the city, only clan heads and elders reached this realm, and they seldom fought. Thus, battles between Mystic Masters were a true rarity for students.
“That was just a warm-up,” Yan Zhen said. “Now I’m getting serious, Mentor.”
“Mm-hmm. Bring it on,” she replied.
Yan Zhen held back his Extreme Flame, relying instead on four Mystic techniques—Eight Extremes Explosion, Tai Chi Shock, Qi Vortex Technique, and Qi Meridian Finger—bolstered by the Starry Sky Dance movement skill to battle Mentor Yu Xuan.
Now that he had broken through to the Mystic Master Realm, the speed and agility of Starry Sky Dance had soared. When unleashed, it left only shimmering starlight and streaking trails weaving across the arena platform, his figure a barely perceptible blur.
Meanwhile, Eight Extremes Explosion and Tai Chi Shock—two King Mystic Skills masquerading as General Rank techniques—unleashed monstrous power at their second layer.
The Mystic Power Dissipation of Tai Chi Shock could serve as defense or disrupt an enemy’s rhythm. The Ninth Explosion of Eight Extremes Explosion represented the pinnacle of rigidity—even Mystic Force Armor couldn’t withstand its implosive force.
And now, Yan Zhen could execute them with ease.
After sixty-nine exchanges, Yan Zhen landed a decisive blow, defeating Mentor Yu Xuan and bringing the match to an end.
For the first time, a graduate had triumphed over his mentor during the graduation ceremony!
These mentor-student bouts were meant to temper the graduates’ arrogance, reminding them that there were always greater powers beyond their own—to keep them from being crushed by the true prodigies at Holy Land Academy.
That was why the mentors always fought in earnest, delivering a gentle lesson to their disciples.
Mentor Yu Xuan hadn’t held back. Yan Zhen, by forgoing Extreme Flame, might as well have handicapped himself with an ocean’s worth of restraint. Yet in the end, he still won.
With the final match concluded, the ceremony drew to a close. The old dean announced that the shuttle airship from Holy Land Academy would arrive in three days. Everyone was to prepare in advance and board promptly upon its arrival—missing it would be their own fault.
With that, the gathering dispersed.
Yan Zhen meant to walk back with Mentor Yu Xuan, but he was soon mobbed by a swarm of senior and junior sisters clamoring for photos as mementos.
The crowd was simply too large, so Yan Zhen made his escape, leaving them a dazzling cascade of starlight in his wake.
“So popular~ Not surprising for my disciple,” Mentor Yu Xuan said with a light laugh, covering her mouth as she watched his undignified retreat. “Walking off like that, who knows how many senior and junior sisters will weep in heartbreak, pining themselves sick.”
Yan Zhen shot his mentor an exasperated look and retaliated with a pinch at her waist.
Mentor Yu Xuan’s cheeks flushed crimson, a glimmer of springtime warmth rising in her dewy eyes.
If not for the crowd, she would have dragged Yan Zhen to her office right then and delivered a stern… verbal reprimand!
The thought only deepened the blush on Mentor Yu Xuan’s face. She hurried away, rejoining the other four women to head to the restaurant they had reserved in advance for a farewell feast.
A parting banquet.
Because Yan Zhen was off to Holy Land Academy, and Mentor Yu Xuan was returning to her own path, they would soon be separated.
The four women were deeply reluctant, yet powerless to change it.
According to the script, that was how it went—Mi Xue’er and Yan Meng’er even clung to Mentor Yu Xuan, sniffling and sobbing.
Yet Yan Zhen saw no trace of sorrow on their faces at the impending separation. Instead, they brimmed with excitement, gushing about how cool Yan Zhen had been in the fight.
What was going on? A fake teacher-student bond?
Yan Zhen was utterly baffled. Deciding not to dwell on it, his gaze fell on his newly acquired “Special Trump Card: Ride Master Scorn Ancestor 2.0,” and his expression twisted in consternation.
“Activating it allows…”
What the hell is this crap?
Whatever. He’d just snagged a Dragon Card, so Yan Zhen’s mood was sky-high. He wasn’t about to quibble with System-chan.
On the way home, Yan Meng’er tugged Yan Ruyu closer and whispered to him:
“Cousin, we’re about to part ways. Could you grant me one teensy little request?”
She pinched her fingers together to emphasize how “teensy.”
Yan Zhen tensed immediately.
“No.”
Yan Meng’er giggled shyly, then leaned to his ear and murmured a few private words.
Yan Zhen whipped his head toward his cousin, who promptly turned away, looking guiltily evasive.
“Come on, pretty please, Cousin?”
“But—”
“Cousin~~~ Meng’er and Cousin Sister are just ordinary girls, you know.”
“Uh… fine.”
Hearing his agreement, a sly glint flashed in Yan Meng’er’s lovely eyes—like a little fox that had made off with the chicken.
“Thanks, Cousin! Meng’er loves you~”
Mwah!
“…”
Yan Meng’er’s request was straightforward: before he left, Yan Zhen should spend one night each with her and her sister—separately, not together.
Ever since confirming their relationship, it had always been the three of them sharing a bed. They’d never tried being intimate one-on-one, so she wanted to make up for it, leaving no regrets.
Yan Zhen felt he somewhat owed them, so he agreed.
Besides, in his current state, handling one at a time was a breeze. No risk of getting carried away and earning a warning from System-chan.
Night fell. After dinner and a bath, Yan Zhen donned his pajamas and headed to Yan Meng’er’s room as promised.
He knocked lightly.
“Meng’er, it’s me.”
“The door’s not locked, Cousin. Come on in.”
Yan Zhen pushed experimentally, and the door creaked open.
He stepped inside, closing and latching it behind him.
Yan Meng’er’s room brimmed with girlish charm, dotted with plush dolls of all sizes. Even her bed featured a chibi Yan Zhen doll, clearly meant as a cuddle pillow.
At the moment, his cousin lay tucked under the covers, only her little head peeking out. Spotting him, she eagerly lifted a corner of the blanket.
“Cousin, hop in~”
Yan Zhen froze. An eerily identical memory flickered through his mind.
Back then, they were kids. On stormy, thunderous nights when Yan Meng’er couldn’t sleep from fear, she would beg him to come keep her company.
Yan Zhen would sneak in through the window to share her bed…
His silly little cousin had been so innocent back then, always peeking out bashfully from the covers yet lighting up with joy at his arrival. Adorably sweet.
No—why do I have this memory?
Yan Zhen furrowed his brow, rooted to the spot.
