I looked at Su Yu, meeting her kind gaze steadily amid the warm waves of jasmine-scented heat still radiating from her Flame Butterfly, its wings fluttering softly with a low, crackling whisper that sent faint sparks dancing through the air like fireflies at dusk.
"His eyes aren't good," I said calmly, my voice low but firm, resting a reassuring hand on Luan's warm, scarred neck—feeling the subtle vibration of his quiet breathing and the faint electric tingle prickling my palm like static before rain. "It's better to keep him by my side."
"That's fine," Su Yu nodded immediately, her raven hair shifting silkily as she tilted her head in understanding, a gentle smile softening her elegant features. The proctor beside her—tolerant as always toward true geniuses—offered no objection, his rounded face creasing with quiet approval as the golden sigils on his deep green robes caught the mana-lights in subtle glimmers.
Guided by the officials, I stepped through the heavy arched doors into the academy's elite reception chamber—a grand, circular hall of polished white marble veined with glowing azure runes that pulsed softly underfoot, releasing a low, resonant hum and the crisp, invigorating scent of ancient mana crystals embedded in the walls. Crystal chandeliers floated overhead, casting warm golden light that mingled with cool blue highlights, while the air carried the refined aromas of rare spirit tea brewing in porcelain cups and the faint, expensive fragrance of high-grade beast incense burning in bronze censers.
As soon as I entered with little Luan at my side—his scaled talons clicking hesitantly against the flawless marble, ragged wings folded tight against his thin frame, the dry rustle of sparse feathers barely audible—many pairs of sharp, curious eyes glanced toward us from across the room. The gazes lingered first on me, then dropped inevitably to Luan: the silk-wrapped blindness of his eyes, the patchy scars where magnificent plumage should have been, the subdued yet unmistakable electric aura that raised faint static in the air and carried the sharp tang of ozone even here.
A ripple of confusion passed over every face—brows furrowing subtly, lips parting in silent questions, the soft clink of teacups pausing mid-air as delicate fingers tightened around porcelain handles. Then, one by one, they withdrew their gazes with practiced indifference, returning to low conversations and refined laughter that echoed softly off the vaulted ceiling.
Everyone in this room was a recognized genius—young masters and ladies from the most influential beast-taming clans of Tianfeng City, their families holding sway over commerce, military outposts, and ancient bloodline secrets that shaped the region's power structure. Their robes were woven from rare spirit silk that shimmered with subtle enchantments, their contracted beasts resting in ornate summoning seals that occasionally released faint pulses of restrained might.
Yet none of them had expected to see a Thunderbird with such sparse, brittle feathers—once the pride of legendary bloodlines—standing quietly in their midst, blind and battered, the faint warmth of his body brushing my leg as if seeking reassurance in this gathering of flawless prodigies and perfect beasts
A cocky young man lounging against a jade-inlaid pillar—clad in ostentatious gold-trimmed robes that shimmered like molten spirit crystals under the chandelier's golden glow—took a deliberate, lingering look at me. His gaze swept from my face down to little Luan perched quietly at my side, lingering on the silk-wrapped eyes and the sparse, brittle feathers that barely covered scarred skin. A sneer curled his thin lips, the sound of his soft, mocking chuckle cutting through the refined murmur of the chamber like a discordant note.
"That can take first place?" he drawled loudly enough for nearby geniuses to hear, his voice dripping with condescension as he flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. The faint scent of expensive dragon-spice cologne wafted from him, cloying and overpowering amid the delicate aroma of spirit tea. "It seems this group really lacks quality this year. The great chairman position of the Crimson Lotus Academy will undoubtedly be mine."
His declaration hung in the air, drawing a few forced smirks from his small circle of sycophants and awkward averting of eyes from others, the soft clink of porcelain teacups pausing mid-sip.
In front of the assembled crowd, seated casually yet commandingly on an ornate high-backed chair carved from ancient thunder-oak—its surface still faintly humming with trapped storm energy—a handsome man dressed in flowing black robes embroidered with subtle silver lightning motifs scanned the room. His sharp features were framed by shoulder-length dark hair streaked with premature silver, giving him a roguish, timeless allure. The floating crystal chandeliers cast dramatic shadows across his face as he nodded slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a warm, dangerously charming smile that revealed perfect white teeth and crinkled the skin around his storm-gray eyes.
"I am your director," he announced, voice rich and resonant, carrying effortlessly over the chamber without needing amplification, "and also vice principal of Tianfeng Beast Tamer Academy." A dramatic pause, during which he leaned back, the thunder-oak chair creaking softly like distant thunder. "Being here to see me means you possess both luck and strength—congratulations, you've already surpassed ninety-nine percent of the trash outside these walls."
He chuckled low, the sound warm yet edged with mischief, as several students straightened with visible pride.
"When you become famous later," he continued, idly twirling a silver ring on his finger that sparked faintly with contained lightning, "don't forget the academy that nurtured you. Send some spirit crystals back, build a statue or two—preferably one of me looking heroic. But…" His grin widened into something positively devilish. "If you cause trouble out there—and you will, because geniuses are magnets for chaos—try not to mention the academy name. And for the love of the heavens, at least don't mention mine. I have a reputation to maintain as the 'mysterious, untouchable, devastatingly handsome vice principal,' not 'that guy whose students keep blowing up mountains and starting wars with sect elders.'"
A ripple of genuine laughter swept the room—nervous at first, then warm and unrestrained—the tension easing as teacups clinked in amused salute and the rich scent of spirit tea mingled with relieved exhales.
"Alright," he said at last, clapping his hands once with a sharp crack that sent a harmless fork of silver lightning arcing between his palms before vanishing into sparkling motes. "Report your beast types. I'll personally procure the most suitable exclusive evolution methods for each of you within a week—straight from the academy's forbidden vaults, no expense spared. Impress me, and I might even throw in a bonus technique or two." His storm-gray eyes gleamed with anticipation as he leaned forward, the faint electric hum of his aura raising the fine hairs on every arm in the chamber.