"Our auxiliary spirit master is in danger, the first thing we must…"
"Gulp… gulp… gulp…"
Qin Ming's voice grew weaker as the lecture went on. Nobody in the advanced class was listening anymore.
Their gazes kept straying toward the back corner of the classroom.
The boys looked on with a mix of awe and fear. The girls' eyes, on the other hand, gleamed with admiration.
Because of one person.
Lucien.
He sat there with a wine jar in hand, black hair slightly tousled, narrow eyes half-lidded from drink. The flush on his cheeks made him look even more intoxicating. He might be young, but his features were sharp, flawless—so much that the girls struggled to look away.
Aside from his tiny problems—drinking constantly, beating fellow students—Lucien was undeniably a super-genius.
"Ding, ding…"
The class bell rang, and Qin Ming let out a huge sigh of relief. Survived another lesson!
"Class dismissed!" he declared, barely getting the words out before hurrying away.
The students scattered instantly, fleeing the room as though a beast had been unleashed. No one wanted to be caught when Lucien drank too much.
Yu Tianheng, especially, bolted for the door. The once-proud heir of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan couldn't even withstand a single round from Lucien. Shame had eaten him alive. He had no desire to stay anywhere near his tormentor.
"Gulp… gulp… ahh!" Lucien wiped his mouth and grinned. "Now happy hour begins!"
"Lucien, you've had enough again!"
Dugu Yan walked over, tidying the empty jars scattered across his desk. Beside her, Ye Lingling sighed softly, watching over him.
"Come on, we'll take you back."
"Heh… Yanyan, Lingling—why don't you have a drink with me?" Lucien staggered to his feet, swaying slightly. The corners of his lips curled mischievously as he hooked an arm around each girl's shoulders.
And so he walked out: wine jar in one arm, long sword on his back, two beautiful girls clinging at his sides.
It was his trademark image.
Students who saw them walking through the academy gave them wide berth, none daring within ten meters. Nobody wanted trouble with Lucien when he was drunk.
"Lucien Big Brother, your sword looks so unique…"
Ye Lingling reached out, curious.
Lucien instantly caught her delicate hand, his drunken haze flickering away for a brief moment. His tone grew unusually sharp.
"Lingling. Remember this. Never touch this sword."
Ye Lingling froze. She had never seen him so serious before, not even during fights.
After a second, his grin returned. "Heh… come on, let's drink!"
"Gulp, gulp…"
…
…
Later that evening, Tiandou City.
Lucien staggered into a residential house far away from the noble dorms. His constant drinking and brawling had long since convinced the Academic Council to assign him his own residence.
"Careful!"
Dugu Yan and Ye Lingling supported him up the steps. Their voices lowered as he drifted into a drunken stupor.
"Yanyan-jie… what's the deal with Lucien's sword?" Lingling whispered.
Dugu Yan shook her head. "I don't know. I've been with him four years now, and he's never let me or anyone else touch it."
That night, the house fell quiet.
Lucien stirred awake near midnight, his lips parched, head buzzing. On the bedside table sat a glass of clear water and a neat handwritten note.
Lucien Big Brother, Sister Yanyan and I went back. Remember to drink water when you wake up!
"Glug, glug…"
The cool liquid slid down his throat, clearing his mind instantly.
"Hah…"
Lucien turned to glance at the sword leaning against the wall. Slowly, he drew it.
The blade was more than three feet long, three fingers wide. A golden line ran from the hilt to the tip, faintly gleaming under the moonlight.
This wasn't just a sword. It was his Martial Soul.
He remembered the day of his awakening at Qibaoshan. The moment his Martial Soul emerged, its sheer power split the mountain's surface, nearly causing a landslide. Unlike other souls that could be retracted into the body at will, Lucien's sword could never return once summoned. He had tried countless times. It was impossible.
From then on, he carried it everywhere.
Yet he rarely used it. Every time his soul power fueled the blade, he felt as if a hundred thousand voices screamed inside his head, scratching at his heart. The sensation left him violently irritable.
Staring at the moon, Lucien's eyes grew distant. It had been four years since he came to Tiandou City. How were Chen Xin and Gu Rong now?
He shook his head. No use thinking such thoughts.
"Wine never betrays me."
He lifted a jar again.
"Gulp, gulp…"
Belch.
[Ding! Excessive alcohol detected in host's body. Converting alcohol into Sword Intent.]
The long sword in his hands pulsed faintly, flickering with light. A wisp of dark energy flashed across his pupils.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
Someone knocked loudly on the door.
"Which bastard dares interrupt my drinking?!" Lucien roared.
"Brother Lucien, it's me—Xue Beng!"
The door creaked open. A wave of thick alcohol scent rolled out. Xue Beng wrinkled his nose like he'd swallowed bitter gourd.
He had planned carefully. Lucien was always drunk during the day, so coming at night seemed smarter. He was wrong. Lucien was still drunk at night.
"Brother Lucien, I brought two jars of royal tribute wine!"
Lucien snorted. "Hmph. Out with it. What do you want?"
He might be drunk, but he wasn't an idiot. No way was Xue Beng delivering high-class wine out of kindness.
"Someone's trying to kill me," the prince admitted, pale with worry. "I want you to be my bodyguard. As long as you agree, the royal family's tribute wine will be yours—all you can drink!"
Lucien's heart stirred. Tribute wine was leagues better than the garbage he'd been downing lately. And a regular supply? Tempting. Very tempting.
He smirked. "Your life isn't worth just a few jars. If you want me to protect you—you'll hand over a soul bone. At least fifty thousand years!"
Xue Beng's lips twitched. Fifty thousand years? He was only a disgraced prince. Where would he find such a thing?
But after a long hesitation, he gritted his teeth. From his golden Soul Guidance Device, he slowly took out a single brown-colored soul bone.
Lucien reached out to catch it. Too drunk, he fumbled twice until he snatched it properly. He squinted. "What's this? Less than twenty thousand years? Hah! You call this sincerity?"
Xue Beng nearly cried. He had gotten this soul bone from his uncle not long ago, but his talent was so poor it wouldn't do much for him anyway. Better to sacrifice it than risk his life.
"Brother Lucien, keep it. Just… please watch over me!"
Lucien waved his hand loosely. "Fine. From today on, don't stray more than ten meters from me. If you do, don't blame me when you get beaten to death."
Xue Beng stumbled out, expression twisted. Are you my bodyguard… or am I your chained dog?
Still, he forced out a grin. "Brother Lucien, don't joke. Protecting me can't be so cheap. That piece I gave you… is less than twenty thousand years. Surely that's enough…"
"Gulp, gulp…"
As Lucien ignored him, tilting the jar back once more, Xue Beng clenched his fists in regret. Losing a soul bone to drunken madness—this was a blood loss!
But there was nothing he could do. Against Lucien, there was never anything he could do.