Just as the air between them thickened—Jiang Tao and Ma Wu trembling beneath Li Fengyuan's gaze like cornered animals—a stern voice rang out from the academy gates.
"Ahem!"
The sound cut through the tension like a blade.
A tall man in deep blue robes approached with an authoritative stride, long sleeves swaying as he walked.
His hair was tied back in a scholar's knot, and his eyes—sharp and hawk-like—swept over the gathered students.
It was Elder Meng, one of the instructors for Heavenly Path Academy.
The student immediately became quiet as others returned to their seats.
"What's all this noise?"
He barked, looking directly at Li Fengyuan and the two trembling boys beside him.
(This brat, is he causing another scene?)
Elder Meng couldn't help but think about it when he saw Li Fengyuan.
"Class is starting. Go to your seats. Now!"
Everyone knew Li Fengyuan was a troublemaker—but one with a backing.
Elder Meng wasn't about to argue and bring trouble upon himself.
He simply turned on his heel and strode back toward the lecture hall, his robes flaring behind him.
Jiang Tao and Ma Wu didn't need to be told twice.
They bowed hastily in Li Fengyuan's direction, mumbling something incoherent before scurrying off like frightened rats—exactly what they were.
The gathered students watched them go in silence. A few smirked. Others shook their heads in amusement.
Li Fengyuan looked at the two, thinking that Elder Meng had saved them but it didn't matter.
Two of them were merely pawns.
Li Fengyuan took a deep breath, straightened his robes, and walked toward his usual seat—third row, right side—just a few steps behind Shen Yuyan.
There was no need to guess why he always chose that spot. It had nothing to do with the teacher's board or proximity to the front.
It was to shamelessly stare at Shen Yuyan.
In his past life, he had spent every class watching her, not listening, not learning. Just staring.
He winced.
(What the hell was wrong with me back then?)
Now, the very thought made him feel ashamed.
It hadn't been love. It had been an obsession, born of arrogance and shallowness.
He hadn't understood her strength, her dignity, or her heart.
That wasn't affection. That was possession.
He quietly sat down, ignoring the few lingering whispers from earlier.
Just as he did, a heavy thunk sounded beside him—someone plopping down with zero grace.
"Oi, Li Fengyuan," came a familiar voice.
"You alright, man? You were about to murder Jiang Tao and Ma Wu back there. Did you finally snap?"
It was Zhao Dazhu.
Sturdy, broad-shouldered, with the air of someone who belonged more on a battlefield than in a classroom, Zhao Dazhu wore his usual half-tired, half-bored look.
His family held noble status too, but a tier below the Li Clan.
One should know that within the noble families, there existed a clear hierarchy.
At the top were the Five Great Clans, the supreme powers of Liangzhou—masters of politics, military, and cultivation.
Below them stood the Twelve Noble Lineages, powerful and ancient families with regional dominance—like the Li and Wei Clans.
Beneath them were the Lesser Noble Houses, numerous in number, variable in strength.
Families like Zhao Dazhu's.
In the past, Zhao Dazhu had always tried to be friendly—talking, joking, even trying to study together.
Li Fengyuan, however, full of pride and entitlement, had barely acknowledged his presence.
At most, he offered grunts or silence.
And yet in the later years, the two had escaped hell together.
They had become brothers.
Through fire and blood, Zhao Dazhu had proven himself again and again.
But in the end, even he couldn't escape death.
Only Li Fengyuan lived on—alone—for centuries.
"Yeah," Li Fengyuan said, his voice quiet but steady.
"I'm alright!"
Zhao Dazhu blinked.
"You sure? You slapped Jiang Tao. That's not like you. And when did Young Master Li become so polite?"
Li Fengyuan gave a wry smile.
"I probably deserved a slap myself for letting them act like that for so long."
Zhao Dazhu raised an eyebrow.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then leaned in with a suspicious squint.
He didn't know what had happened to this arrogant young master—once obsessed with love and nothing else.
But today, there was something different about him.
From the way he spoke to the way he looked at him—it wasn't the same Li Fengyuan he knew.
"Are you sick?"
"Nope!"
"Did you hit your head?"
"Not recently."
"Did some heavenly fairy descend and swap your soul with someone halfway decent?"
Li Fengyuan chuckled.
"Maybe!"
Zhao Dazhu froze.
Despite everything that was said, including the subtle insults, Li Fengyuan didn't get angry.
He simply smiled happily.
Zhao Dazhu rubbed his chin, glancing sideways at him again.
(What the hell happened to this guy?)
It was like someone had taken the arrogant, cold, lovestruck fool of a Young Master and replaced him with someone else.
"Oi," Zhao Dazhu said, lowering his voice, "don't tell me…"
He gave Li Fengyuan a sly look.
"Did Shen Yuyan finally crush your heart or something?"
Li Fengyuan blinked, then laughed—open and unrestrained.
Zhao Dazhu blinked at him in surprise. He'd expected an angry glare, maybe a bitter scoff.
Not… laughter.
But Li Fengyuan wasn't laughing in pain or self-mockery. He looked genuinely amused.
"I don't care about that girl."
Li Fengyuan said simply.
Then, his eyes softened.
"I'm just glad to see my brother again."
Zhao Dazhu coughed.
Once.
Then twice.
He turned away, scratching the back of his neck as if suddenly interested in the wooden pattern on his desk.
"W-what are you talking about?"
Zhao Dazhu didn't know what to say about Li Fengyuan suddenly addressing him as brother.
Of course, he didn't hate Li Fengyuan—he never had.
Though Li Fengyuan's reputation among the students was nothing short of disastrous—brash, arrogant, and love-struck beyond reason—Zhao Dazhu had never treated him with outright malice.
Because he knew.
Zhao Dazhu had always known that Li Fengyuan wasn't cruel, just lovestruck.
A foolish young master chasing after a girl he didn't truly understand, stirring trouble with nothing but pride in his chest and no one to steer him straight.
Now, with Li Fengyuan looking at him like a long-lost brother, speaking with warmth instead of contempt, he didn't know what to say.
Zhao Dazhu huffed and grumbled, "Acting all sentimental out of nowhere!"
Li Fengyuan just grinned.
He knew that Zhao Dazhu—or anyone else—couldn't possibly understand what he was feeling right now.
The weight of the people he had failed to protect—the regret and guilt he had carried for centuries—never left him.
He missed them, he regretted what he could not do.
And now, to be given a chance again… to see them, to speak with them, filled him with an indescribable joy.