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✦𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓘 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 ✦

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Lunch was done, and it was time to suit up for training. Huan wasn't particularly excited about this part of the day, but it was necessary. He walked beside Marcus as they made their way to the locker room, where they'd get ready in their suits and gear for the session ahead.

The locker room was a large, industrial space, lined with steel lockers on both sides, each one personalized with little knick-knacks and stickers that the students had added. The air smelled faintly of metal and sweat, not the best thing Huan has ever smelled but it was better then the junkyard. The fluorescent lights above casted a bright, sterile glow over everything, making the polished floor reflect their movements as they walked in.

Huan approached his locker, opening it, revealing his training suit hanging neatly inside. The suit was sleek and black, designed to be both durable and flexible, with various compartments for gadgets and tools. But there was an issue with his suit's cooling system that had been bugging him since yesterday. He'd been overheating during the examination, and it would definitely affect his performance today if he didn't fix it.

"So your suit needs reworking?" Marcus asked, peering over at the exposed circuitry in Huan's gear as he adjusted his own suit. "It's a quick fix, just grab some supplies from the tech lab."

"I don't wanna go alone..." Huan admitted, his voice trailing off into a slight pout as he avoided Marcus's gaze.

Marcus smirked, closing his locker with a metallic clang. "Then we'll go with you," he said, his tone reassuring. Adi, who had been listening from nearby, also closed his locker and joined them.

Adi tilted his head with a grin. "Yeah, it's not like there's a ghost haunting the halls or anything."

Technically, for Huan, there were ghosts, ghosts of the past-specifically, the Chen Clan. And especially Chen Xian.

Huan trailed behind Marcus and Adi as they made their way out of the locker room. They passed by a group of cultural students who wore their traditional uniforms, robes flowing elegantly as they walked. Their long hair, tied up or braided, swayed gently with each step, while the monks in the group moved silently with their shaven heads gleaming under the lights.

They arrived at the tech lab, a room filled with tools, gadgets, and mechanical parts. It was a space that hummed with the quiet whir of machines and the soft glow of holographic screens displaying various blueprints.

"Aye, Huan! The problem is with the suit's cooler, right?" Adi asked, rummaging through a drawer filled with small ventilation parts, his hands moving swiftly as he sorted through them.

"Yep," Huan confirmed, closing the door to a cupboard where he had been looking for other components.

Marcus, who had been searching through a different section, suddenly tossed a small mechanical part into the air and caught it with a grin. "Found one that'll fit you perfectly," he said, his voice laced with satisfaction.

"Great!" Adi exclaimed, getting up from the floor and dusting off his hands. "Let's get back to the lockers then."

As they headed back, the halls had become more crowded with cultural students, their robes swirling around them in soft hues of blue, green, and red.

Huan was so lost in thought that he didn't notice where he was going. He misstepped and bumped right into a cultivator in blue robes. Rubbing his nose, Huan looked up, his heart sinking when he saw who it was.

Looking down at him with a sneer was Chen Zixin. His eyes were cold and cruel, his mouth twisted in a look of disgust. "Watch where you're going, runt!" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

Huan backed away, his heart pounding in his chest. Zixin didn't recognize him. Xian hadn't told Zixin who he was. But that didn't make Huan feel any safer. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way out. He wanted to bow and apologize, to get out of this situation as quickly as possible, but his body refused to move. He was paralyzed with fear, terrified that any movement would give him away—that Zixin would expose him as an ex-Chen disciple in this very hall, filled with cultural students and his friends.

"Well? Are you mute?" Zixin taunted, raising an eyebrow. "Heh—can't believe the SSE recruits such useless beings like you..."

Before Huan could respond, Adi stepped forward, placing himself between Huan and Zixin. "First of all, how dare you call him a runt?" Adi's voice was sharp as he glared at Zixin. "Second of all, he got first place in the examination, so trust me, he's the least useless out of all of us!"

Huan felt a wave of gratitude toward Adi, but at the same time, he desperately wanted Adi to stop. This was dangerous territory.

Marcus, placed a hand on Adi's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Listen, sir, my friend Huan accidentally bumped into you, and I apologize on his behalf. He gets nervous really easily," he explained, trying to diffuse the situation. "Now, if—"

"Why should I care if he gets nervous?" Zixin cut him off, his voice icy as he took a step closer. "Do you know who I am? Do you two know who I am?" His tone was menacing, his entire being radiated hostility.

Adi frowned, unfazed by the threat. "No. Why would we know a clown like you?"

The surrounding cultural students gasped, even Huan, as Adi's words hung in the air. Adi was making a grave mistake.

Zixin's smirk turned into a dark grin, his eyes narrowing with malice. "Since you like to talk so much, it's better if you don't talk at all."

With a flick of his wrist, a wisp of blue wind shot from Zixin's hand, zipping past Adi's lips. Adi suddenly couldn't move his mouth. His face turned white as he tried to speak, his eyes widening in panic. He gasped for air, his breaths coming out in strangled wheezes. He was choking-choking on qi.

Huan's heart dropped as he watched Adi collapse to the floor, struggling to breathe. Without thinking, Huan scrambled to help him, his mind racing with the need to do something-anything. Marcus was right there beside him, but neither of them could do anything without escalating the situation further.

Huan glared at Zixin, his eyes burning with hate and desperation. He knew what he had to do-he had to use his qi to save Adi. But that would mean exposing himself, revealing his identity not just to Zixin and Xian, but to everyone around him.

He screamed, "Somebody help! Please!" But the other cultivators, who could have easily intervened, backed away, unwilling to stand against Zixin.

Huan felt utterly helpless. He was caught between the fear of exposure and the desperate need to save his friend. Was he supposed to risk everything to protect Adi? Or should he let his friend suffer, knowing that revealing himself would bring the wrath of the Chen Clan down on him?

But just as Huan's desperation reached its peak, Jimin appeared from the crowd. Without hesitation, he knelt beside Adi, pressing his palm firmly against Adi's back. A soft, golden light emanated from Jimin's hand, warm and gentle. Within seconds, Adi gasped for breath, the color returning to his face as the choking sensation dissipated. Relief washed over Huan, but the moment was far from over.

"You nearly killed him!" Jimin's voice rang out, filled with anger as he turned his gaze on Zixin. The words had barely left his mouth before he realized the danger in his outburst. His eyes widened, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut, his bravado vanishing as Zixin's cold gaze locked onto him.

Zixin tilted his head slightly, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Oh... of course, it's a Zhao Clan disciple who would dare to oppose me. And you're not even high rank." His voice dripped with contempt as he stepped closer, towering over the smaller boy. "Where did you get your courage from? Your precious young master, Zhao Zhan?"

Jimin visibly flinched, his earlier confidence evaporating. The air around them felt thick with tension, and the onlookers held their breath, fearing what might happen next.

Just then, a strong hand shoved Zixin away from Jimin, breaking the oppressive atmosphere. The new arrival wore a fox mask, obscuring his face, but his chestnut hair was visible, cut to ear length. He wore the Fujisawa clan uniform. "He did nothing wrong! You were the one who tried to choke my partner!" The masked disciple's voice was firm, carrying an authority that demanded attention.

Zixin wrinkled his nose in distaste, his eyes narrowing. "Oh please, they're normal humans. They don't belong with us," he sneered, his voice filled with disdain. A chuckle escaped his lips as he continued, "Some might also say Kanji-users like you are pathetic. Your powers don't grant you immortality; they break you instead!"

The crowd around them bristled at Zixin's words, but no one dared to speak up. The tension was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog.

"That doesn't matter!" the Fujisawa disciple snapped back, his voice firm. "What matters is that you hurt an innocent!"

Zixin's expression darkened. He despised being challenged, especially in front of an audience. The sword strapped to his back began to unsheathe itself, a soft blue glow emanating from the blade as it slid free. Zixin stood with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the masked disciple. "So, are you going to prove me wrong?" he taunted, his voice cold.

The sword fully unsheathed, hovering menacingly in the air before shooting towards the Fujisawa disciple with deadly intent. The disciple flinched but managed to leap back just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike. Unfortunately, Jimin wasn't as quick. Frozen in fear, he stood paralyzed as the sword changed its course, aiming directly at him.

There was a bright spark as another flying sword, this one with a vivid green glow, intercepted Zixin's weapon. The two blades clashed in mid-air with a sharp metallic ring, Zixin's sword being violently knocked off course. It flew back to its owner, landing neatly in Zixin's hand as he hissed through gritted teeth, "Zhao Zhan..."

The green-glowing sword returned to its master's side, and Zhao Zhan stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the corridor. He moved with grace and authority that made it clear he was no ordinary cultivator. His green yishang hanfu, intricately embroidered with golden threads, shimmered as he walked, as if he had descended from the heavens themselves. His long black hair flowed over his shoulders like a dark river. "Chen Zixin..." Zhan's voice was calm but carried a weight that made it clear he wasn't to be trifled with.

Huan watched mortified, feeling like he had stepped into the middle of a Xianxia drama. This was the kind of confrontation that belonged in ancient tales, not the modern halls of the SSE. He didn't like it one bit.

Zhan continued, "Whatever business you have with our disciples, you have it with us. Not to mention, you hurt a student here in this very hall. Do you have no shame? Showcasing the Chen Clan like this-hurting the innocent your ancestors swore to protect." He shook his head in disappointment, "Our ancestors."

Zixin's rage was palpable. His face contorted with anger as he let go of his sword, expecting it to fly straight at Zhan. But instead, it clattered to the ground with a heavy thud. Shock flashed across Zixin's face as he looked down, confused. Then it hit him-his qi was being blocked.

Standing behind him was Akira, he looked dark and ominous. He wore a mask that seemed hollow, its empty eyesockets made it look as though he had no face behind that mask. His long, black hair swayed slightly, carried by an unseen wind. Dark petals, carried by the same mysterious force, floated around him, their movement slow and eerie. If Zhan looked like a celestial being descended from the heavens, Akira appeared like a demon summoned from the depths of the underworld.

Well I didn't expect that...

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