Flames extinguished. Light faded.
A delicate figure leaned into An Zhen's arms as he steadied the unsteady Wu Feng.
One strike decided victory.
Not because Wu Feng was weak—she'd gambled everything on her strongest attack. Victory or mutual destruction; defeat meant bearing both backlash and her opponent's full force.
"Liar."
Her head against An Zhen's chest, the girl's voice was muffled by blood. "Your Martial Soul is supposed to be World!"
This was clearly a True Dragon—superior to her own. Wu Feng felt deceived.
"I never said it was the Radiant Holy Dragon."
How could you assume its form?
He removed his coat and draped it over the reluctant Wu Feng.
"Liar. I don't want it."
Her arms pushed weakly against his chest—exhausted beyond resistance.
"I'm not lying. Be good. I'll explain later."
His voice carried magical persuasion—amplified by lingering holy energy, his natural charisma became irresistible.
No living thing could resist the World's embrace.
This close, his draconic aura overwhelmed the Red Dragon Maiden's senses.
Wu Feng fell silent, allowing him to cloak her shoulders.
"Feng!"
Ning Tian descended from the stands.
A figure with emerald hair and glasses materialized beside them. Gentle-faced, she summoned six textbook-perfect soul rings (Yellow-Yellow-Purple-Purple-Black-Black). A blue lotus bloomed in her hand; two rings flashed as azure light bathed Wu Feng. She fed her a luminous seed.
Color returned to the girl's pallid cheeks instantly.
An Zhen passed the weakened Wu Feng to Ning Tian. The golden-haired girl produced a trench coat from her storage soul tool, concealing Wu Feng's curves.
"Teacher Mu, you've found a treasure," a colleague remarked.
"Just luck!" The curly-haired woman beamed.
"Student An Zhen!"
A bespectacled man rushed forward, eyes blazing with excitement. "Was that Radiant Holy Dragon your first soul skill? Can you replicate any Martial Soul?"
Teachers had noticed—a yellow soul ring had flashed before the dragon's manifestation.
"An Zhen," Mu Jin stepped in. "This is Wang Yan, our theory expert. His knowledge could greatly aid your growth."
Wang Yan?
An Zhen recalled the name.
"I can replicate. Beyond that, I cannot disclose."
"Ah." Wang Yan's shoulders slumped. The "World" Martial Soul and Radiant Holy Dragon—one unknown, the other scarcely documented—were irresistible temptations to a scholar.
"Teacher Wang's expertise is invaluable," Mu Jin urged.
"Thank you, but no one understands my Martial Soul better than I."
Truth.
Conventional theories didn't apply.
Youthful arrogance, Mu Jin thought. Talent justifies pride… for now.
⋯
"An Zhen, you're amazing!"
"Class monitor, free for lunch?"
"Monitor—"
Handsome. Charismatic. Powerful.
Suddenly, An Zhen was surrounded. Students pressed close, eager for his attention.
"Silence."
Mu Jin's voice cut through the chatter. "Return to your seats. Observe the matches—learn your classmates! Next group, to the arena!"
Memories of Class One's expelled students spurred instant compliance.
Corner of the Dueling Arena.
Treated by healers and Ning Tian's premium medicine, Wu Feng sat recovered, needing only rest.
"Well?" An Zhen approached, smiling.
"Liar." She turned away, tossing his coat back.
Ning Tian watched curiously. Was An Zhen interested in Wu Feng?
"I never lied."
Martial Soul, Manifest!
Two yellow rings rose. Both flashed.
Falling embers. A wave of heat. Crimson scales like burning embers appeared at An Zhen's temples—no full transformation, but unmistakable.
"Red Dragon Martial Soul!"
"You—"
Wu Feng's cherry lips parted in shock.
"Replication includes soul skills?" Ning Tian deduced. Twin Martial Souls of Radiant Holy Dragon and Red Dragon? Unlikely—they'd be equally matched. Yet An Zhen had overpowered Wu Feng… No diminished potency?
"Mn." An Zhen nodded.
Both girls stared, stunned.
"Now, about that wager…" An Zhen's gaze lingered on Wu Feng. From his standing angle, the trench coat hid her form, but the hint of black form-fitting suit beneath held its own allure.
"Fine! I'll honor it."
The usually brash girl blushed—perhaps yielding to the World's embrace, or her dragon submitting to a superior bloodline.
"I recall the girls' uniform includes a skirt?"
"What do you want?!" Wu Feng raised a fist. I'll bite him if he dares—
An Zhen knelt, whispering in her ear.
"...That's it?"
Tension drained from Wu Feng. Not what I feared.
Her slender legs—sheathed in glossy black—swung lightly. Sunlight glinted off the material.
"Deal."
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(End of Chapter)