Schemes in the Sky, Roots in the Earth
The cold moonlight did nothing to settle the turmoil in Gu Yue's heart. As Yao Xuan's figure disappeared into the dormitory, the weight of her realization pressed down on her, a solitary burden under the vast, star-dusted sky.
'First, I must be certain,' she thought, the razor-sharp logic of the Silver Dragon King carving a path through the chaos of emotion. 'Speculation is not proof. If he carries the Dragon God's essence, the ancestral relic in my family's possession will react. It is the only way to know.'
The plan formed with chilling, rational clarity. The winter break was the obvious window. It provided time, privacy, and a plausible reason to travel.
A thorn immediately presented itself: Aolai City. Lin Ximeng. The kind older sister figure who had offered her, as Na'er, unconditional shelter. The human woman Yao Xuan clearly held in deep, familial affection. Gu Yue's mind, capable of calculating celestial trajectories, instantly ran the permutations.
'The simplest solution is removal.' The thought emerged, cold and clean as a surgeon's scalpel. It was not born of malice, but of pure, draconic efficiency—eliminate the variable. A flicker of revulsion, human and profound, followed instantly. She saw Na'er's memory of Lin Ximeng's gentle smile, felt the ghost of a hand smoothing her hair. 'No. That is not a path that can be walked back. And he would never forgive such a betrayal. It would shatter everything.' The very idea caused a foreign, aching tightness in her chest. That outcome was not acceptable.
A more elegant solution presented itself. 'If Lin Ximeng's heart and attention were… otherwise occupied. If she formed a bond of her own, her need for Yao Xuan's company during the holidays would diminish.' It was manipulation, yes, but a gentle one. A redirection of affection, not its destruction. It preserved Lin Ximeng's happiness and cleared the logistical path. The conscience of the girl who had been Na'er could abide this.
'But how to convince Yao Xuan himself to come with me?' This was the final lock. He was not a pawn to be led blindly. He was strategic, purposeful. The key, she realized, lay in his greatest mystery—his martial soul. 'A family of Soul Masters,' she reasoned, her eyes gleaming with intellectual triumph. 'We possess ancient knowledge, a chance to help him understand the unique… properties of his Ancestral Dragon martial soul.' It was the perfect bait, tailored to his deepest curiosity. It was also not entirely a lie.
Decision made, the last vestige of Na'er's softness vanished from her expression. She retrieved a compact, advanced soul guidance communicator, its casing etched with subtle, non-human patterns. Dialing a secure channel, she spoke, her voice dropping into a register of pure, commanding frost, devoid of any warmth. "A task concerning Aolai City. Subject: Lin Ximeng. Objective: Facilitate the introduction of a suitable, positive male companionship into her life. Parameters: Non-coercive, organic development. Ensure her safety and genuine happiness. Report progress through standard channels." The order given, she severed the connection. The Silver Dragon King had set a scheme in motion. The girl who cared for Yao Xuan hoped it would work.
The abrasive light of the afternoon sun replaced the contemplative moonlight, striking the hard surfaces of the promotion tournament arena. The air buzzed with a different kind of tension—competitive, electric, public.
Wu Zhangkong stood like a blue-clad sentinel at the head of Class 5, his impassivity a wall against the crowd's noise. Approaching him, Teacher Ye Yingrong of Class 3 offered a stark contrast. She moved with a youthful bounce, her light green ponytail swaying. Her smile was bright, her eyes holding a frank admiration as she looked at the legendary graduate before her.
"Hello, Teacher Wu," she said, her voice cheerful.
"Hello, Teacher Ye," Wu Zhangkong replied. His tone was neutral, acknowledging her presence as one might acknowledge the weather. He did not meet her eyes, his gaze already scanning the arena ahead.
Yet, the mere fact he had used her name sent a ridiculous, fluttering thrill through Ye Yingrong's chest. 'He remembered!' The thrill was quickly followed by a familiar, wistful frustration. 'Why must he be a statue carved from ice?' Her admiration was for the legend, the strength, the unwavering principle he represented—a professional respect tinged with the natural attraction one might feel for a formidable peak. It began and ended there.
Long Hengxu's voice boomed across the field. "The second match of the promotion tournament! Class 5 of the first year, will you field three participants again?"
"Yes." Wu Zhangkong's answer was a blade of sound. He turned. "Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, Xie Xie. Step forward."
Yao Xuan met his teacher's gaze and gave a slight nod. This was the calibrated team. Tang Wulin, watching from the sidelines, clenched his fists not in jealousy, but in fierce support. He understood his role was to grow stronger, to earn his next chance.
Across the way, Ye Yingrong smiled encouragingly at her trio. "Gu Tianri, Gu Tianyue, Gu Tianming. You're up. Remember, friendship first, competition second. Good luck!"
"Yes, Teacher Ye!" Three voices answered as one. The Gu brothers were not just siblings; they were a single entity split three ways. They moved with a seamless, eerie synchronicity, their slender frames and sharp eyes giving them the look of raptors assessing prey.
A flicker of interest finally touched Wu Zhangkong's icy eyes as he observed them. Synchrony like that was a weapon in itself.
The two teams took their positions. Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, and Xie Xie assumed their now-familiar "品" formation, a triangle of grounded strength. The Gu brothers formed a straight line—a long snake poised to strike from above.
"Ready! Three… two… one… BEGIN!"
The reaction from Class 3 was instantaneous. With a unified surge of soul power, gray, feathered wings—the Gale Sparrow martial soul—burst from the backs of all three brothers. With powerful downstrokes that kicked up dust, they ascended, gaining altitude rapidly. They hovered in a loose triangular formation, masters of the new, vertical battlefield.
Xie Xie's face fell. "A flying martial soul? Are you kidding me? How are we supposed to fight this?" His agility was useless against opponents who could simply veto the ground. The fundamental disadvantage of low-rank Soul Masters against fliers was a tactical cliff.
Yao Xuan, however, didn't look up. He looked at Gu Yue. A silent communication passed between them in a millisecond—a question and an answer. He then glanced back at Xie Xie, a calm, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. "It's alright. Watch."
High above, the Gu brothers stabilized. Their first spirit rings, white and fluttering with energy, glowed in unison. They swept their hands down. The air rippled, and a dozen crescent-shaped Wind Blades, semi-transparent and humming with a dangerous keen, sliced through the air towards the stationary trio below.
Gu Yue did not flinch. She took a single, graceful step forward, as if presenting herself to the sky. Her first yellow spirit ring gleamed. Before her, the earth itself answered. With a deep, grinding rumble, a wall of solid clay and stone erupted from the arena floor, rising eight feet high and three feet thick. The wind blades struck it with a series of sharp thwacks, digging shallow grooves but failing utterly to penetrate. Dust plumed from the impacts. The disparity in power was clear; their flight granted advantage, but Gu Yue's elemental control held a qualitative supremacy.
"Gu Yue," Yao Xuan said, his voice low and conversational amid the fading echoes of the blocked attack. "Some ice spheres, please. Medium density."
A subtle, genuine smile touched Gu Yue's lips—the smile of an artist given an interesting challenge. "Okay." Her second spirit ring, also yellow, shimmered. The air around her grew chill and damp. From the moisture summoned by her Elemental Tide, dozens of perfect, fist-sized spheres of solid ice condensed and fell gently to the ground at her feet, clinking together like crystalline marbles.
"Thanks," Yao Xuan said. He bent, his movement fluid, and picked up one sphere. It was cold and smooth in his palm. He hefted it slightly, his eyes calculating windage, drop, and the hovering pattern of the three brothers.
On the platform, Gu Tianming, confident behind his aerial shield, began to gather spirit power for another volley.
Yao Xuan's body coiled. It wasn't a grand, soul-powered technique. It was pure, refined biomechanics—the torque of his hips, the whip of his torso, the final, explosive snap of his shoulder and arm. The ice sphere became a blur, a comet of condensed frost streaking upward with a sound that ripped the air—a sharp, piercing WHIZZ.
It wasn't aimed where Gu Tianming was. It was aimed where he would be.
The sphere crossed the distance between earth and sky in a heartbeat, a startling, physical answer to a spiritual advantage. The battle for promotion had truly begun, and Class 5's strategy was breathtakingly simple: if the enemy owns the sky, you must learn to shoot the stars down.