The light of the gate throbbed like a living heart, ripples spilling across the clearing with every pulse.
Principal Renshu stood at its edge, cane planted firmly, his eagle gaze sweeping over Fan Yumei and the fourteen others beside her.
Fifteen cultivators, armored and waiting, the hum of the gate vibrating in their bones.
The Guild Commander stood flanking him, arms folded, silent as iron.
No ceremony.
No grand speech.
Only Renshu's calm voice cutting through the hum.
"Before you step through, know who you face." His words were measured, deliberate.
"You've trained among yourselves, but outside these walls? Competition is sharper. Names and faces matter—remember them."
He gestured toward the rows of rivals gathered in the violet glow.
"Su Han of Redwind Conservatory" she stood like a blade drawn too long, tall and lean, her ice-white braid gleaming under the haze.
Fan Yumei looked over at her as Su Han looked up meeting her stare head on.
The Crimson runes pulsed faintly across the black trim of her jacket.
Fan Yumei ignored her challenging stare and looked away.
The aura around her was all restraint, all precision, like a trap waiting to spring. Renshu's gaze lingered on her.
"Her domains ensnare squads whole. Watch the cages she weaves."
Min Zhao muttered under her breath, eyes rolling. Fan Yumei caught the edge of it and leaned closer.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"My second cousin," Min Zhao said flatly, lips twisting. "Sociopath. Trust me."
Fan Yumei let the name settle in her chest, hum quiet, attention snapping back to Renshu.
Yan Lihua of Sunflare Academy stood next—bronze skin glowing under the light, hair a flare of copper fire. Her sunburst vest blazed bright against the plain slacks, every inch of her vibrating with impulsive energy. The ground near her boots still shimmered faintly with heat.
Then Jin Cheng of Ironroot Vanguard, broad-shouldered, steel-gray vest accented in green, hair cropped neat.
There was nothing theatrical about him—just the tight, clinical aura of someone who struck and stitched with the same precision.
Bai Lin of White Fang Academy waited at the edge, platinum hair spilling over a white parka lined with fur.
Her eyes were unreadable, cold, and when her gaze flicked across Fan Yumei's squad, a pressure pressed faintly at the mind.
And then, the four royal heirs.
They stood apart, each wrapped in the weight of expectation, guards shadowing them like extensions of their will.
Princess Xia Ying—poised, raven hair tied low, navy blazer shimmering with silver thread.
Every inch of her screamed calculated control, her scroll-etched sleeve glowing faintly as though it might unfurl runes at any moment.
Qin Lei—straight-backed in officer's white, gold epaulets glinting.
His confidence didn't come from posture alone but the invisible tide of qi rolling off him, a current designed to carry allies forward and crush resistance.
Hu Ailing, "Little Tiger," couldn't have looked more different—feral grin under an undercut, camo jacket loose over wiry muscle.
Her small frame didn't matter; even standing still, her energy prowled restless, wild.
And finally, Lian Sao, serene in lotus-pink and charcoal.
Her hair was bound by a single jade bead, her hands calm at her sides.
The air around her seemed to slow, light bending softer where she stood, a subtle aura that invited trust even as it unsettled.
One by one, Renshu's voice sketched the warnings, but the air between the words was heavier than the names themselves.
When his eyes locked last on Fan Yumei, her chest tightened.
"These are the ones who will turn the tide if you falter," he said. "Stay vigilant."
The Guild Commander gave the smallest nod, steel in the gesture, and Renshu stepped back.
Fan Yumei's pulse wouldn't calm. She swallowed, but before she could speak, Kai Shi leaned close, voice low.
"Keep an eye on Ma Li. Vanguard. Pact Forger. Slips through defenses like smoke."
Zhou Qian cut in from the other side, his voice threaded with tension.
"Duan Rui. Aurora Crest. Blade qi cuts barriers like paper. And Zhang Amei—Moonshard—she adapts to everything you throw at her."
Liang Chenwu's voice was quieter still, a thread of warning. "Nakamura Aiko. Stormridge. Hybrid Trigger—switches range and melee like it's nothing. And He Yara. Vanguard. Dual Tamer-Healer. If you hesitate, your own beasts will turn against you."
Fan Yumei drew in a long breath, scanning the classmates beside her. Some pale with nerves, some braced with grim fire, others hiding behind unreadable masks.
The gate's haze thickened, violet seam rippling into form.
The ancient pylons hummed. Beasts padded forward, forming a protective arc.
Mystic drifted above, vast body moving with slow assurance.
Fan Yumei's hand went to her bow. Her ring shimmered, silver folding into emerald armor that caught the haze-light.
She felt her voice sharpen, barked it out before hesitation could creep in.
"Survive. Stay sharp."
The group lifted together, tense silence pressing them into formation.
Fan Yumei settled cross-legged on Mystic's cloud cushion, syncing her breathing, aligning with Maxius and Lufei.
Mystic hovered overhead in smaller form, mane of storm-clouds shifting.
The moment she passed through the gate's seam, the world buckled.
Her body didn't fall—it folded. Space twisted around her.
Mystic's scream tore through their bond, not sound but a surge of raw pain in her mind.
Pressure lit up her skull like lightning, and then silence fell too hard, too fast.
The bond interference hit like a freight train.
Threads between her and her beasts didn't snap, they were blocked—dragged into something cold, slick, suffocating.
Oil poured through her soul.
Fan Yumei's mouth opened in a soundless gasp.
She wasn't flying anymore.
She wasn't anywhere.
Mystic and lufei vanished beneath her.
Or she vanished from them.
She couldn't tell.
Another wrench tore her sideways, a pulse of static and color, her body flickering between states.
Her bracelet flared hot, then dulled, something inside it clawing to get out before being forced back down. Her ring chilled against her skin.
Her qi guttered like a flame starved of air.
Her soul screamed, Don't split. Hold.
She reached for her beasts—and found only smoke.
Mystic was gone.
Lufei, gone.
Everyone else gone.
Then—impact.