The moon hung like a heavy silver coin outside the balcony, casting the intricate carvings of the Royal Guest Palace into sharp relief.
Inside, the fragrance of the rare spirit tea mixed with the faint, expensive scent of Ning Xueli's perfume.
Shen Haoran set his cup down with a delicate click, his golden eyes fixing on Xueli with an intensity that made her feel as though the very air in the room had thickened.
"Tell me, Miss Ning," he began, his voice a low, melodic hum. "What do you truly think about this region? Not the politics or the borders, but the world you live in."
Xueli blinked, caught off guard by the philosophical turn of the conversation.
She smoothed the silk of her blue dress, her mind racing. "What do I think? It is... home. It is a land of ancient traditions and the Spirit Possession system. But compared to what I saw today—to you—I suppose it is just a small corner of the world. There is nothing particularly special about it."
"Indeed," Haoran said, his lips curling into a thin, enigmatic smile. "It is a barren wasteland, a shallow pond where the water has turned stagnant. The geniuses here are like frogs at the bottom of a well, admiring a circle of sky and calling it the universe."
He leaned forward, the light from the spirit-lamps dancing in his golden pupils. "So, what do you think about following me?"
The air in the room seemed to vanish. Xueli's heart hammered against her ribs, the sheer weight of the proposition making her lightheaded. "F-Follow you? To the Central Region?"
"Mn." Haoran nodded, his gaze never wavering. "The Central Region is where the heartbeat of the world resides. There, the mountains touch the stars, the rivers flow with liquid spirit-qi, and the 'geniuses' of this kingdom wouldn't even be qualified to sweep the courtyards. It is far more interesting than this dusty wasteland. I find your spirit... intriguing, Xueli. It would be a waste to see it wither away in a place like this."
Xueli's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
The ambition that every cultivator possessed screamed at her to say yes—to grasp the golden thigh of a prince from the Central Region and ascend to the heavens.
But then, images of her father, the Ning Clan, and her broken friends at the Ogre Academy flashed through her mind.
"I... I am honored, Young Master Shen," she hesitated, her voice trembling. "But my roots are here. My friends are still recovering, and my clan expects me to lead them one day. I don't know if I can simply turn my back on everything I've ever known."
Haoran didn't look disappointed; if anything, her hesitation seemed to please him. "A flower with no roots is easily tossed by the wind. I didn't expect an answer tonight. You have until the very end of the Regional Tournament to think about it. Once the final victor is crowned and I have finished my 'business' here, I shall return to the Central Region. That is your deadline."
Xueli let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I... I understand. Thank you for your patience."
"Let us change the subject," Haoran said, gesturing toward the spread of delicacies on the table. "How are your friends? Did my 'tokens of apology' serve their purpose?"
Xueli thought of the golden pills she had already used earlier to her friends. "They are recovering. The internal damage was severe, but the medicinal efficacy of those pills is... miraculous. Even Grandmaster Yu has regained consciousness, though his pride seems more wounded than his legs."
"Pride is a luxury the weak cannot afford," Haoran remarked dryly as he took another sip of tea, his expression turning thoughtful, almost clinical. "By the way, I wanted to ask you something else. In your time at the academy or within the capital, have you ever met anyone... peculiar? Perhaps a boy who was notoriously lazy, untalented, and bullied, only to suddenly change his entire personality overnight? Or anyone who seems to possess an uncanny, almost impossible streak of luck?"
Xueli furrowed her brow, searching her memories. The request was strange, but she took it seriously. "A sudden change in attitude? Well... there is a boy in our junior class. He was always lazy, completely untalented, and the others would bully him relentlessly. I felt sorry for him and would step in occasionally to help, but he hasn't changed. He's still the same quiet, lackluster boy. Aside from him, I don't really know anyone I would call... weird."
Haoran's fingers drummed rhythmically against the arm of his chair. A false lead, or perhaps the 'clutch' hasn't triggered yet, he thought.
"Is that so?" Haoran murmured. "Keep your eyes open, Miss Ning. If you find anyone acting out of character—someone who was a 'trash' yesterday but acts like a 'sovereign' today—inform me immediately. I have a particular... professional interest in people like them."
Xueli nodded, though she found the interest bizarre. "I will do as you ask, Young Master."
She looked at him, silhouetted by the moon, and felt a strange realization.
Beneath the arrogance and the terrifying power, there was a profound, calculating loneliness to him, as if he wasn't just here for 'fun', but he was here to hunt something.
"I should go," Xueli said softly, standing up. "My father will be looking for me, and I need to check on the others."
Haoran didn't stop her. He simply watched her walk toward the door, her blue dress shimmering like the surface of a lake.
"Until the end of the tournament, Xueli. Don't let the 'frogs' in the well convince you that the sky is small."
As the door closed behind her, Qing'er stepped out of the shadows. "Young Master, do you truly want to bring that girl along? Although she is indeed beautiful, but her talent is..."
Haoran stood up and walked back to the balcony, looking out over the Cao Yin Kingdom. "No need to say more, Qinq'er. Her talent doesn't matter, what I wanted was her status as a 'heroine', a complete magnet for Anomalies."
He smirked, his golden eyes reflecting the cold light of the moon. "With her by my side, I'll be just here to catch them when they jump."
*
*
*
In the dim, suffocating silence of the Ogre Academy's male dormitory, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and the rhythmic snoring of exhausted teenagers.
On a cramped upper bunk, a plain-looking young man with unruly black hair suddenly bolted upright.
His gasp was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade, as he clutched his chest, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
"W-Where am I?" Chu Fang stammered, his voice a hoarse whisper. "This...was I injured and sent to the medics?"
He couldn't remember what happened.
His last memory was a kaleidoscope of horror: the sky above the Eastern Region turning a bruised, necrotic purple; the ground slick with the blood of thousands; and the overwhelming, divine pressure of the Spirit Hall's Pope as she descended like a vengeful goddess.
He had been on the front lines, a mere foot soldier in the Allied Army, bracing for a blow that should have erased his soul from existence.
He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he reached out, his trembling fingers brushing against a rough, splintered wooden post.
"Wait, this room..." he murmured, his breath hitching. "This isn't a field hospital. It's... it's the dorms of Ogre Academy?"
Memories flooded back—not of the war, but of the mundane misery that had defined his youth.
The leaky ceiling, the smell of cheap laundry soap, and the constant, dull ache of being the "trash" of the junior class.
It was a painful and humiliating memory for him, but also something he couldn't forget no matter what, so he knew that ths was the Ogre Academy.
But, how? The Ogre Academy had been reduced to ash nine years ago during the Spirit Hall's first Great Purge.
"Wait, could it be...did I travel back in time, ten years in the past!?"
"Chu Fang! Shut up! It's the middle of the night!" a voice growled from the bunk below as a foot kicked the underside of Chu Fang's mattress with enough force to make him jolt. "Some of us actually intend to pass the trials tomorrow, you lazy pig!"
Chu Fang froze. He knew that voice. Zhao Hu—his old dorm mate who had died a year from now, when the war first started, with his body never found.
"Zhao Hu?" Chu Fang whispered, leaning over the edge of the bed. "Buddy... what is the date? What year is it?"
Zhao Hu groaned, rolling over and squinting up at him with pure annoyance. "Did you hit your head? It's the 30th of Jenu, Year 26,000 of the Grand Emperor Epoch. Now go back to sleep before I drag you down here and use you as a footstool!"
Chu Fang slumped back against the wall, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat.
Haha, hahaha! He actually really travelled back in time!
Whether through a freak accident of the Dao or some hidden treasure he hadn't known he possessed, he had regressed.
He was back ten years in the past, before the Regional Youth Combat Tournament even started!
'I have a year to prepare before the war starts,' he thought, his eyes burning with a sudden, predatory fire. 'a year to change everything.'
In his previous life, the Eastern Region had been a slaughterhouse.
Sick and tired of the "oppression" of the Spirit Hall, every forces from the Eastern Region united to fight against that behemoth.
They thought the Spirit Hall was just another sect, but they didn't realize it was a monster with its roots in the very foundation of the world.
When the war broke out a year into the future, the Allied Forces were almost constantly getting suppressed, and nine years later, they were already on the verge of destruction, with only a third of the forces remaining.
Thankfully, the Leader of the Ogre Seven, Tang Shan had found the Inheritance of the Bright Silver Supreme Emperor, and had broke through to the Nirvana Rebirth Realm in a display of power that had momentarily turned the tide.
But even that wasn't enough.
The Pope of the Spirit Hall and her daughter had also revealed their own trump cards: the legacies of Heavenly Saints.
They had ascended to Nirvana alongside Tang Shan, and the war had turned into a stalemate of gods that ground the common folk into dust.
Tang Shan... the 'Hero,' Chu Fang thought, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.
He took the glory, but he couldn't stop the suffering of the people. This time, why should it be him?
I know the location of the Bright Silver Emperor's tomb. I know the weaknesses of the Spirit Hall's formations. I know which 'trash' artifacts are actually Divine Tools in disguise.
He looked down at his calloused hands. In this timeline, he was still the bullied, "lazy" junior, he was the boy who sat in the back of the class, invisible to everyone.
Including her.
"Ning Xueli," he sighed, the name tasting like bittersweet wine on his tongue.
In his past life, Xueli had been the star of the Ogre Seven, a moon among stars.
But after the tournament, something strange had happened.
She hadn't stayed to fight for the kingdom, and even the Ning Family had chosen to not participate in the war.
Rumors said she had left for the Central Region with a mysterious benefactor, and by the time the war began, she was a legend that had vanished into the mist.
He had spent his entire life looking for her shadow on the battlefield, hoping for a glimpse of the girl who had once offered him a kind word when no one else would.
This time, I won't let you disappear, he vowed. I will become the dragon that guards you. I will take the Emperor's power, I will crush the Spirit Hall, and I will stand by your side.
But as he sat there, planning his path to godhood, a cold thought struck him.
The date—the 30th of Jenu.
"Wait," he whispered, his eyes widening. "If the date is correct... then that rumored young master should have arrived today. The man from the Central Region. The one who changed the fate of the Ning Family."
In the original timeline, a young master from the Central Region had appeared briefly, causing a stir before vanishing.
Many believed it was his arrival that had prompted Ning Xueli to leave.
Chu Fang realized that if he wanted to claim his destiny, he couldn't just fight the Spirit Hall.
He had to navigate the arrival of that young master, a man whose power was an unknown variable even in his past life's memories.
'But, it's alright. I'm no longer that trash,' Chu Fang thought, lying back down but keeping his eyes wide open. 'The world thinks the Ogre Seven are the geniuses? They think Tang Shan is the protagonist? Heh, let them. While they play at being heroes, I will be the one holding the blade that cuts through time!'