Chapter Thirty-Six: Yixin vs. Lin Aosoul

Closing the book, she cradled it in her hands as if she had found a priceless treasure. The ancient volumes on the surrounding shelves awakened an insatiable desire to read within her.

“This study, I seldom have time to tend to it. If you could come here occasionally to help me tidy up, I would be greatly indebted.”

“Really?” Ling Xiaolei’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Did this mean she could visit often to read?

Ling Xi nodded in silent agreement. As Ling Xiaolei eagerly immersed herself in the world of books, he quietly rose and slipped away.

On one of the shelves, Ling Xiaolei pulled out a book at random. With gratitude and reverence, she opened it and began to read with care. It happened she turned to a passage—a legend about the “King of the Dark Elves.”

This record, dating back three thousand years, seemed to be the spoken account of a dark elf ancestor:

Since time immemorial, our people have held a deep, inherent faith in the towering sacred tree and the white-winged angel. In the ancient texts of the dark elves, it is written: Within that hallowed forest stands a tree that reaches the heavens. There, a white-winged angel once guided the dark elves…

Each time we gazed toward the divine realm’s sky and saw the tree whose crown pierced the clouds, we would wonder: Is this the same tree spoken of in the old chronicles? Could it truly grow so tall, rising beyond the sky itself, forever out of reach?

Our divine protector was gone. The thunderous overlords began their cruel slaughter. Though many of our kin fled the divine realm, scattering across the continent, our group refused to abandon this place. For in our hearts was a faith unshaken; each time we lifted our eyes to the great tree, we knew—this was our home.

During a sudden massacre, our enemies drove us deep into a vast marshland swathed in mist and lurking with dangers. Soon, we lost our way. Many companions vanished after entering the mire—some swallowed by the bog, others devoured by beasts, and some lost forever in the fog.

To escape our pursuers, we pressed ever onward toward the heart of the marsh. We walked for days and nights, until finally the mist lifted, and before us soared lush, verdant crowns of trees, their heights vanishing into the clouds. Ecstatic, we ran toward them, believing we had found the legendary land, the place our ancestors shared with the gods.

Beneath the tree, we finally saw it clearly—a solitary giant rising stark in the marsh’s center. Beneath its shade stood a boy with eyes as deep and lonely as a lake, skin white as paper, who greeted us kindly in the tongue of our people.

Then, before our eyes, wherever his fingers swept through the air, weeds, withered branches, fallen trunks, and hollow stumps all began to sprout tender shoots. Green life spread across the land, every plant flourishing at his command… It was a miracle—a vision of the home we had always dreamed of.

We fell to our knees, hailing him as the King of the Dark Elves.

Ling Xiaolei turned the page. In the center was solemnly recorded a single sentence once spoken by the King of the Dark Elves himself. This noble and exalted king, in graceful dark elven speech, said to them:

“Our faith in the gods will endure forever, but the god who inspired that faith is no longer with us.”

From that day forward, the words passed through the generations of the dark elves.

Reading this, Ling Xiaolei felt a pang in her chest. She lingered in contemplation, quietly absorbing the meaning.

Ling Xi descended the stairs, heading for an inconspicuous corner behind the bar. On the wall hung three wanted posters, thick with dust and yellowed with age, their contents nearly illegible. He reached out and tore them down.

Heiyu’s wounds healed quickly after drinking the potion prepared by Baishengye. By the next day, he was full of energy. In the morning, after rising, he brushed his teeth and washed his face in the bathroom, pausing to admire his handsome reflection in the mirror. Outside, commotion erupted on the field in front of the dormitory—loud crashes and bangs as if someone were tearing down a house. He paid it little mind.

“What’s all the racket so early in the morning…”

A hurried knock came at the door. Ling Xiaolei burst in, face tense:

“Hurry downstairs! Lin Aosoul is here to arrest you—Yixin’s fighting him now!”

Heiyu jolted upright.

“Yixin? He’d fight for me?”

He donned his black mage’s robe, fastened the ornate silver badge at his chest, and hurried downstairs with Ling Xiaolei.

Students on their way to class and others just finished with breakfast were drawn by the commotion, crowding three deep around the hundred-meter-wide circle in front of the dormitory.

Ling Xiaolei, camera in hand, squeezed into the throng, snapping pictures ceaselessly. Heiyu stood on tiptoe to peer over the crowd and saw Yixin and Lin Aosoul standing opposite each other at the edges of the field.

“We’re here to take someone into custody! Move aside, move aside, hand them over!” The voice of the Holy City Guard rang out from the noisy crowd.

Heads craned and people gossiped:

“Isn’t that Yixin? He’s the son of the Lord of Scarlet Flame City—people call him ‘Young Lord.’ He’s butting heads with Lin Aosoul. This is big!”

“Yixin was top of our Magic Academy’s entrance exam. Both are powerful figures in the Holy City. Who will come out on top? This battle will be incredible!”

The crowd thickened, some girls even cheering wildly for Yixin.

Lin Aosoul, his massive hammer slung over his shoulder, spat on the ground, his head held high.

“Kid, don’t block the way! Didn’t your teacher ever tell you not to interfere with the business of the Holy City Guard?”

His voice boomed, but Yixin was undaunted.

“Commander Lin, surely you know the Lord’s Hall, the Guard, and the Magic Academy operate independently. If you want to take someone from the Academy, you’ll have to get past me first!”

As Yixin spoke, flames burst forth from the tip of his staff. The air grew thick with tension, and battle was inevitable.

Behind Lin Aosoul, a few guards whispered nervously:

“Commander, that’s… that’s the son of the Lord of Scarlet Flame City…”

“Hmph!” Lin Aosoul paid them no heed. He slammed his hammer to the ground with a resounding thud, cracked his neck with a sharp pop, and shot a glare more menacing than any gang leader’s, causing nearby students to shrink back.

“These pampered young masters are long overdue for a lesson!”

A flash of killing intent shone in Yixin’s eyes. “Come, then!”