As reserve candidates for high clergy of the Church, students of St. Teno Divine College came pre-wrapped in a halo in the eyes of ordinary people.

  Luo Wei looked around. The adoration washing over the St. Teno squad bordered on fanatic. For once, noble and commoner students shared the same thing—devout reverence. Maybe there was even a hint of idol-chasing. In her past life’s terms, these students lined up with top scorers from elite universities and heirs of world?dominant conglomerates. In an old-school romance novel, they’d at least be nationally adored campus heartthrobs or celebrities.

  Under such one?sided cheers, the pressure on Snake Academy was imaginable.

  No one believed they would win—including Snake Academy themselves.

  Before the match even began, the Snake junior squad had mentally nailed themselves to the pillar of shame as the losers.

  The two teams entered the arena under ten thousand stares and began a battle whose ending everyone thought they already knew.

  Luo Wei felt mildly relieved. When she’d seen the Snake squad whispering at the gate she feared they’d forfeit. Luckily they still had enough blood in them not to flee without a fight.

  She focused on the field. They were still probing—no real escalation yet.

  St. Teno’s students were “dual-path,” yet in combat they obviously preferred the wand over the longsword—perhaps a cleanliness quirk.

  Snake Academy surprised her. Knowing this was a match they could not and “should not” win, not one of them eased off. They threw themselves fully into suppressing their opponents.

  Judging strictly by raw mana, the Snake squad wasn’t far behind—in fact, nearly even.

  As the foremost of the Ten Academies, Snake’s strength was unquestionable. If St. Teno hadn’t suddenly joined the circuit, Snake should have been the team others admired.

  But St. Teno’s radiance was too fierce—plus the unconventional Siria—so Snake’s light was buried.

  Now, both sides trading evenly in open view, the crowd finally woke up: Snake Academy was not inferior.

  People say St. Teno’s students are dual mages. Not precise. They’re trained to Holy Knight standards—Spellchant as primary, swordsmanship auxiliary—so they’re really dual-path apprentices.

  At the junior apprentice stage, a dual-path apprentice isn’t much different from any other magic apprentice. The basic sword drills they know, other students also know.

  Siria’s juniors each study six magic courses; are they “six-path mages,” then?

  So at close quarters St. Teno isn’t as overwhelming as rumor paints them.

  But their composite power is frightening. Beyond defense and strength that tower over Snake Academy, they possess an almost cheating skill—Light Healing.

  No matter the wound or the stamina they burn, one Light Healing and—under a second—they’re fresh again.

  Snake’s squad, by contrast, grew steadily more exhausted. Stamina and mana drained; the tide turned against them.

  They couldn’t outlast St. Teno; they knew it. Their style shifted abruptly—throwing themselves forward with a reckless, death?not?feared charge, longswords drawn.

  A fearless courage clung to them: kill a thousand at the cost of eight hundred of their own; a thread of tragic valor.

  The match lasted twenty minutes. Snake Academy ran dry, badly injured, and collapsed—carried off the field.

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  St. Teno’s team still looked invigorated; twenty minutes had been a warm?up.

  Luo Wei lowered her head, thinking. The ferocity they saw had largely been Snake Academy’s contribution.

  St. Teno held back—whether to spare Snake face or to hide trump cards, they disclosed little.

  She distilled only two useful points:

  First, their endurance and recovery are exceptional. A war of attrition is unrealistic; a swift decision is the only proper approach—yet she still didn’t know their burst capability.

  Second, they’re obsessed with maintaining a spotless image. In the vocabulary of her past life, they carry “idol baggage.” Hol is very good at exploiting exactly that.

  The fifth-round final would be tomorrow morning. The five from St. Teno left the arena directly.

  Below the stands, Prince Alfried, flanked by two knights, stepped into his carriage and rolled away at an unhurried pace.

  Luo Wei withdrew her gaze and stood. “Let’s go too.”

  The five left the grounds; at a fork they split for their respective dorms.

  It was only four in the afternoon. Remembering the letter she’d sent via her raven, Luo Wei changed clothes and used the teleportation array back to Star Luo Residence.

  “Luke?”

  “Caw!”

  Hearing her voice, the raven kicked up, flipped out of its nest, snatched a copper tube, and winged down.

  Luo Wei extended her hand. The raven dropped the tube on her palm, flapped down by her feet, and nuzzled her.

  “You’re not hurt?”

  She crouched, stroking its sleek, glossy black feathers.

  “Caw-caw!” The raven puffed its chest, giving its wings a demonstrative flap: perfectly strong.

  “Good.”

  She rose, uncapped the tube, slid out a roll of parchment, and as her eyes moved down the lines her brows drew together.

  Troy’s reply showed Goru City’s situation was far more tangled than she’d assumed.

  She had thought the Serbanli Principality’s expedition only wanted concessions—not Count Wesley’s life. She was wrong.

  Without Troy’s timely arrival, the count’s head might have been severed and hung on the wall already.

  Now the entire outer city had fallen. The invaders seized large numbers of civilians too slow to flee. Any who dared resist were executed. The Serbanli army raged like blood?mad lions—burning, killing, looting. They weren’t trying to hold the city; they meant to wreck it.

  Refugees who knew they couldn’t escape crowded outside the lord’s castle crying for help. Count Wesley ordered the gates opened to take them in.

  But hidden among them were seven or eight enemy soldiers disguised as refugees. They climbed the wall to assassinate the count and nearly succeeded.

  Count Wesley’s fate was not yet sealed—Troy happened to arrive overhead, saw the scene, and leapt straight down to save him.

  Having saved his life, Troy quickly won the count’s trust.

  Under interrogation the assassins confessed: they were mercenaries hired by Count Mansfield—ordered to pose as refugees, infiltrate, and kill Count Wesley and his family.

  Even Count Wesley struggled to believe it.

  There was a feud, yes, but to that extent?

  Another strange twist: reinforcements marching to Goru City were recalled mid?route by royal order.

  The king of the Borlon Principality decreed the conflict a private grievance between the Wesley and Mansfield families—no other nobles were to interfere—cutting off every external lifeline.

  Goru City had become an isolated island, encircled by Serbanli forces. Without outside aid, reversal would be hard.

  The lord’s castle had absorbed too many refugees; the granary would not last. If the siege continued, in under half a month the gate might fall without a single battering.

  The more she thought, the stranger it felt. Luo Wei went back indoors, set the letter on a round table, lowered her eyes, and sank into thought.

  Setting aside Serbanli’s assault: why would Borlon’s king abandon his own territory?

  The Wesley family had flourished over a millennium. Their domain wasn’t vast, but the soil was rich—grain yields far above average. Would the king really hand over such fertile land?

  Had Count Wesley done something so heinous heaven and men alike would condemn it—enough that the king preferred losing land to sending troops?

  And Count Mansfield—he didn’t only want the count dead. He wanted the entire family gone. Those were the mercenaries’ exact words, copied verbatim by Troy.

  Luo Wei’s temple throbbed. Exterminating a whole family: either pure hatred—or burying a secret.

  What secret does the Wesley family hold?

  If she couldn’t solve that riddle, she’d have no way to pull Count Wesley out of the dead end.

  She folded the letter, went upstairs, and teleported back to the academy.

  ...

  Knock, knock, knock—

  “Who is it?”

  Vina wiped her reddened eyes, climbed from bed, and opened the door.

  “It’s me.” Luo Wei lifted her gaze; dark eyes took in the haggard face. She lowered her voice. “I need to ask you something. Inside.”

  “What is it?” Vina stepped back to let her in.

  “Close the door,” Luo Wei said, glancing over. “It’s about your father.”

  At “father,” Vina grew anxious. “What happened? Is he all right? Did you already save him?”

  Luo Wei nodded. “He’s safe. Troy saved him.”

  “Thank the gods—wonderful!” Relief poured out as Vina clasped her hands, a trace of joy finally surfacing.

  “Don’t celebrate yet,” Luo Wei said. “He isn’t safe.”

  “Why?” Vina pressed. “You just said your knight rescued him.”

  Luo Wei handed her the letter Troy had written. “See for yourself.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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