The first time Han Li laid eyes on Shen Mu, the boy was hanging upside down from a tree, tied by his ankles, his noble robes stained with bird droppings.
"He tried to duel a Spirit Crane," a disciple explained sheepishly.
Han Li tilted his head. "Did he win?"
"No, Teacher."
Shen Mu grinned despite the humiliation. "I almost cut its wing."
Han Li's broom tapped the ground. "I like him."
Shen Mu was the son of the legendary Sword Prince Shen Tian—once hailed as a peerless cultivator before being falsely accused of treason and executed. Since then, the Shen Clan had been stripped of their titles and called "traitor blood."
Shen Mu had applied to every elite class in Twilight Academy—and was rejected by all.
Now he sat in Class D, cross-legged, eyes closed, surrounded by the faint hum of sword intent. The other students gave him space. Even among outcasts, he radiated danger.
Han Li observed quietly. "He's cultivated the Nine Heavens Sword Mind. It's incomplete, but still..."
"Why is someone like him here?" a student whispered.
"Because we accept those the world throws away," Han Li said.
Later, in the faculty chambers, Instructor Zhou sneered. "You took in the traitor's brat? Aren't you worried about your reputation?"
Han Li smiled politely. "I was just a janitor yesterday. Reputation isn't something I carry."
Zhou snorted. "Don't come crying when he stabs you in your sleep."
Han Li's gaze turned icy. "If he stabs me, I'll thank him. It means he learned something."
Outside, Shen Mu stared at the moon.
In the shadows, an old sword spirit murmured, "Your father's killer is closer than you think."
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