"Go, go! Scatter around in groups of twenty! If you find a beast you can't handle, retreat immediately and return here!"
Xiang Xi's voice echoed sharply across the snow-covered valley, carrying through the biting mountain air. His tone was firm, leaving no room for hesitation.
The disciples straightened to attention. There were eighty of them in total, their robes fluttering in the wind as snowflakes danced through the air like drifting ash. Twenty of the weaker disciples stayed behind to dig around the sealed cave.
Those who stayed were either too weak to fight or had ranked last in the tournament.
The rest—sixty disciples—formed three groups, spreading out like hunting wolves across the white wilderness.
Cin Yan led the first group. Shi Tian, Sha Tian, and Mo Rian walked at her sides, their steps light and proud.
Le Wei followed soon after, leading another cluster of disciples. His expression was calm, but his eyes constantly drifted toward Cin Yan, unable to hide the admiration burning within.
Fu Yang, however, was different. He was an inner disciple—but he kept to the very end of the line, walking silently, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze indifferent. Snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he followed the group, not a word leaving his lips.
The others chattered among themselves, peering curiously at the frost-covered trees and rocky slopes as they advanced deeper into the forest. Every few steps, someone would poke at the snow or inspect the frozen ground, hoping to uncover something unusual.
Fu Yang watched them quietly, noting how serious they appeared—how diligently they left no spot unchecked. Yet to his eyes, their search seemed naïve—children trying to play heroes in a world that wouldn't even notice their struggles.
They moved deeper into the forest, but not a single beast appeared. Only the whispering wind and the crunch of their boots disturbed the silence.
Fu Yang's lips curved slightly.
What truly amused him was not the quiet of the forest, but the noisy hearts of his fellow disciples.
He could almost hear their thoughts.
Why aren't there any beasts yet? If I kill one, I'll surely be noticed by everyone here… mostly her!
Oh, Princess Cin Yan, don't worry—I'll protect you from danger!
The corners of Fu Yang's mouth lifted into a faint smirk. Daydreamers, he thought. Romantic fools playing at being heroes.
With three hundred years of life experience behind him, he didn't even need to guess—he knew exactly what they were all thinking. The male disciples puffed out their chests, glancing toward Cin Yan like peacocks fanning their feathers. Meanwhile, the female disciples whispered among themselves, voices dripping with jealousy.
"What a leech," one of them muttered bitterly. "Wasn't I the beauty he wanted to protect last time? Hmph."
Another, a small round-faced girl—Chen Hua—pouted as she crossed her arms. "That Le Wei bastard… look at him wagging his tail for her like a dog."
The girls around her giggled, though their laughter carried a sting of shared resentment. Chen Hua's delicate features—her slightly smaller stature and innocent face—made her look even more adorable when angry, but she clearly didn't find it amusing.
Cin Yan led her entourage with grace. Her crimson robes contrasted beautifully against the snow, her long hair tied with a ribbon that fluttered behind her. All the male disciples clustered near her, trying their best to stay within her line of sight. The female disciples, burning with envy, followed behind, whispering their frustrations. And behind them all trailed Fu Yang—alone, detached, watching everything with quiet amusement.
Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, Cin Yan raised a hand, signaling everyone to stop.
"Alright, my fellow disciples," she announced brightly, her tone calm yet commanding. "This area looks promising. We'll begin our search here."
"Yes!" voices echoed in unison as the disciples spread out, kicking aside snow and poking at the ground with their tools.
Fu Yang, however, did not move. He simply sat down on a nearby boulder, brushing away the snow with one hand. His gaze lifted toward the horizon—the endless sea of white snow and towering pine trees piercing the sky. The scene was serene, almost sacred.
"It's really beautiful, isn't it?"
A voice broke the silence from behind him.
Fu Yang turned slightly. Standing there was Chen Hua, her cheeks flushed red from the cold, her expression twisted into an angry pout.
"Mmm," Fu Yang murmured after a pause. "No, it isn't."
Chen Hua blinked. "Whaaat?! How can you say that? You're really hopeless, aren't you?" She stomped her foot lightly on the snow. "Whatever—just tell me why you're sitting here doing nothing. We're supposed to find the missing spirit frogs, remember?"
Fu Yang didn't answer. His gaze wandered past her, toward the front where Cin Yan and Mo Rian were also… doing absolutely nothing. Both women were seated comfortably on rocks, chatting idly, as if this was a casual picnic rather than a search mission.
Fu Yang chuckled faintly, then turned back to Chen Hua.
"Mm, why don't you tell them what you just told me?"
Chen Hua's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. She gave him a forced smile. "You—! Are you even a man? Hmph! How can you talk like that? They're resting because they're girls. I understand that. But you—" she pointed accusingly at him, "—you're just being lazy. A coward, not a real man."
Fu Yang tilted his head slightly, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "Are you jealous of her, Chen Hua?"
Chen Hua froze. "What? No! Wait—how could you say something like that to me, a girl?" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the truth her pride wouldn't let her admit.
Fu Yang smiled faintly. "Oh look," he said casually, nodding toward the front. "Le Wei is back. And look at him—wagging his tail again."
Chen Hua turned, frowning.
Le Wei was indeed approaching Cin Yan, bowing slightly as he reported his findings—though from the gleam in his eyes, it was clear he'd found nothing. Cin Yan listened with a gracious smile, her posture elegant and her voice sweet as she thanked him. Le Wei's face brightened instantly, his grin stretching wide as he looked up at her like a loyal hound awaiting praise.
Chen Hua's expression darkened. Her lips trembled, and her fingers clenched around the edge of her sleeves. The light in her eyes dulled as she looked down, her breath hitching faintly. For a moment, she tried to hold herself together, but the disappointment was too raw, too familiar.
Fu Yang sighed softly and stood. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he walked closer, bending slightly so his eyes met hers.
Tears had already gathered at the corners of Chen Hua's eyes, shimmering like frozen pearls ready to fall.
He studied her quietly, saying nothing for a long moment. He already knew everything—her heart, her pain, her foolish attachment. In his past life, he had seen countless such stories. Unrequited affection—so painfully human, so tragically repetitive.
Chen Hua liked Le Wei. She always had. But Le Wei's heart was hopelessly chained to Cin Yan—ever since they entered the academy. No matter what Chen Hua did, he never once turned his eyes toward her. And because of that, she carried a quiet grudge—against Le Wei, against Cin Yan, even against herself.
Fu Yang spoke softly. "You knew it already, didn't you?"
She looked up, startled. "Knew what?"
"That he would never look at you the way you want him to."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. The truth hit harder when spoken aloud. She wanted to protest, to deny it—but the tears betrayed her.
Fu Yang straightened, gazing toward the front again where Cin Yan laughed at something Le Wei said. "People chase after what shines brightest," he said quietly. "They forget that sometimes, the light burns when you reach for it."
Chen Hua sniffed softly, wiping her eyes. "You talk like some old man."
Fu Yang smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
"Then what about you?" she muttered after a pause. "Why don't you like her too? Everyone does."
Fu Yang's eyes drifted to the falling snow. "Because what glitters most isn't always gold," he said simply. "And some lights… are rotten at their core."
Chen Hua frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Fu Yang didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, cold and distant, as if seeing something far beyond the mountains.
Before she could question further, a sudden cry rang out from the distance.
"Senior Sister! We found something!"
All heads turned toward the source. One of the disciples was waving his arm frantically from between the trees.
Cin Yan immediately stood, her composure turning sharp. "Everyone, regroup!" she commanded. Snow scattered as disciples hurried toward the voice.
Fu Yang glanced at Chen Hua, smiling faintly. "Let's go."
Chen Hua, who had been watching Le Wei run ahead beside Cin Yan, followed silently.
As they approached the spot, the wind howled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of blood.
The snow here was darker—tainted. Something had been dragged across the ground.
Le Wei's face paled. "T-This… this looks fresh."
Cin Yan frowned. "Be on guard. Whatever it was—it's nearby."
Fu Yang stopped beside a tree, looking down at the faint crimson trail disappearing deeper into the woods.
Just a beast hunting, he thought—but then, an idea came to mind.
He knew that everyone would try to impress Cin Yan, and many would rush ahead toward whatever it was. But if a disciple were to get hurt—especially an important one—what would the academy do?
"Cin Yan…" Fu Yang murmured under his breath.
He didn't want revenge or anything so petty. He only wanted to delay this search—long enough to move the spirit frogs to a safer, more hidden place.
But the problem was how.
As the cries of the disciples echoed through the forest, and the scent of blood thickened in the air, Fu Yang's eyes narrowed.
He had just found the answer.