Chapter Twenty-Four: Lord Yisheng

“Let’s not go!” Ling Xiaolei complained bitterly, “Tomorrow is the weekend—can’t you let me rest for one day? Look at my dark circles. I can fall asleep while walking right now!”

“But think about what we’ve gained. Look how much our cultivation has improved lately! I dare say, no one in our year is progressing faster than us. Can’t you push yourself a little more, just once, so your Dark Elf kind can hold their heads high?”

Ling Xiaolei protested loudly, “You’re in good health and can keep going until three in the morning, but I can’t take it anymore! If this continues, I’ll fall to pieces!”

The corridor fell silent, all their classmates staring wide-eyed at them.

Ling Xiaolei, utterly hopeless, shouted, “It’s not what you think!”

Shenzai Guo followed them, entering the grand hall of the cafeteria together.

Exhausted, Ling Xiaolei nodded off over her meal, nearly dunking her head into her plate several times. Across from her, Blackfeather was still full of energy, mocking her coldly.

“You can’t handle a bit of hardship, and you’re still talking about being the strongest support?”

Ling Xiaolei rolled her eyes. “Look, you can sleep through your morning classes, but I have to stay awake… Forget it, I don’t even have the energy to argue with you.”

“Have you heard? At the end of the second academic year, the Holy City is hosting an Intermediate Mage Tournament. Supposedly, only six people from the whole school qualify! Don’t you want to fight for a spot?”

“I… never said I didn’t want to.”

“If you want it, why not work harder at cultivation?”

At some point, Shenzai Guo had quietly poked her head out beside their table.

“Are you going to train? Can I join you…?”

Ling Xiaolei glanced at her new teammate—after all, she was a royal of the Dragonkin, a friend worth making. She was about to blurt out, “Of course!” when Blackfeather cut her off.

“No way, our training spot is too far, and it has to stay completely secret.”

“I’ll keep it secret…” Shenzai Guo blinked her big eyes earnestly. “I want to be a powerful mage like you, Blackfeather. Please take me with you.”

“No, no. It’s hard enough flying while carrying one person who weighs two hundred pounds—how could I handle two?”

“Who… are you… calling… two hundred pounds!” The spoon in Ling Xiaolei’s hand bent under her grip.

This was followed by the usual chaos of cups and chopsticks flying through the air. Shenzai Guo smiled awkwardly. Her toes lifted from the floor, her back bones crackling as two wing bones extended outside her body. A pair of dark red dragon wings unfurled, faint flames coiling around them, casting shadows across the entire cafeteria ceiling. Only then did the other two turn around and stare at her.

“I can fly,” Shenzai Guo announced cheerfully.

Outside the Holy City, by the quiet riverbank, Yisheng sat under a straw hat on a large rock, fishing as the sun set over the water. Yixin stood beside him, gazing silently at the river.

This river was all too familiar. As children, their father and mother would bring him and his brother here to fish. Those were carefree days—he could wade barefoot in the icy water, splashing toward the shore and cupping his little hands to catch bright minnows in the shallows.

At dusk, when their father had filled a basket with fish, his brother would call him back, scoop him up, and sit him on a riverside rock, gently wiping the mud and water from his feet before putting his shoes back on.

In the sunset, their mother would lean on their father’s arm, walking together, while Yixin and his brother held hands and followed. At home, their mother would use the catch to make her signature fish soup, and the four of them would gather joyfully around the dinner table.

He once thought such days would never end.

“The Pantheon hasn’t come to cause trouble again, have they?” Yixin asked coldly, hiding his feelings.

“Well… We’ve already sent out investigators where we could. What else can we do? The Pantheon sent people out searching, but with no result, just like us. Might as well fish in peace and let them play their games.” Yisheng narrowed his eyes and smiled.

He yanked the fishing line. “Hey, got one!”

Yixin recalled passing the City Lord’s Hall that day, where the Pantheon’s people were present. His father, Yisheng, wore silver armor with the brilliant robe of a Fire Archmage trailing behind. Yixin paused, slipping behind a column outside the door to eavesdrop, his expression grave.

The mages from the Pantheon, all at the Archmage level, wore pure white robes adorned with golden thundercloud crests. One, with a sharp chin, spoke in a mocking, insinuating tone:

“This time, the demon race appeared in the Holy City. We ask the City Lord to find clues and uncover the truth as soon as possible! If this drags on, we’ll have to suspect you of harboring them.”

The Lord of Redflame City, Yisheng, swept his sleeve with great flair:

“For generations, the Redflame clan has guarded the border wall. Who on this continent does not know our honor and reputation! Though we advocate equality among races, demons are the exception. Even if you insist we’re harboring demons, no one in this land would believe it!”

The Pantheon’s members frowned, powerless to argue, and forced out, “Very well, then…”

Yisheng reeled in the line, pulling a lively carp from the water.

“This appearance of demons is truly odd,” he said, putting away his rod and picking up the fish basket. “They say after the War of Man and Demon, only a few demon descendants barely survived on the human continent. If this demon’s origin is not that, then it must be connected to the dimensional rift in the Eastern Lands. Let’s hope it’s not an ill omen!”

Yixin supported Yisheng, and the two headed home.

Blackfeather had already returned and was drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for dish after dish to be served. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of food, and Yixin, wearing an apron, bustled back and forth, while Yisheng occasionally lifted the lid off a steaming pot of fish soup to savor the fragrance.

“Hmm! Nice, I think I got the seasoning right this time,” Yisheng remarked.

“Just don’t make trouble,” Yixin said as he stir-fried vegetables. “Don’t touch anything but the fish soup! You’ll ruin every other dish. Just watch the heat on your soup!”

Soon, Yisheng had arranged all the dishes, finally setting the fish soup carefully in the center of the table. Yixin sat opposite Blackfeather.

“Come on, try it! See if your old man’s cooking has improved?”

Blackfeather, his stomach growling, picked up his chopsticks and took a piece of fish.

“Well?” Yisheng looked at him expectantly, his brows and mustache bunching together in a hopeful grin.