All the Talents Under Heaven, Drawn into the Net

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Zhuang Mochen stroked his beard and laughed long and loud, his voice like the vault of heaven. "Xiaojun, you truly are a rare talent—far-sighted, deeply calculating, and decisive enough to command the Cosmos!"

He stood with his hands behind his back, the mountain wind lifting the hem of his blue robe. "This move was truly wondrous beyond words."

The private box was in an excellent location, set atop the second-floor pavilion. From it, one could take in the scenery in all directions; inward, one could watch the Soul Duel Stage, while to the side and rear, and directly behind it, the Zhongnan Peaks came into view.

Zhuang Mochen's expression suddenly tightened, and an unnatural flush rose over his bronze face.

His broad palm pressed tightly against the pendant at his waist, and his voice trembled. "If one day, our Chang'an Academy could actually ascend to the throne of the Continent's Number One Academy..."

His words stopped abruptly. His Adam's apple bobbed, and a watery gleam seemed to flicker in his eyes. "When that time comes, even if this old man were to turn into spring mud at once, I would still smile in the netherworld, with no regrets!"

Chen Xiaojun lowered his eyes and smiled faintly, his dark lashes casting butterfly-wing shadows across his jade-like face, adding a touch more mystery and elegance to him.

He slowly opened a folding fan, imitating Chen Hua's affected air of cultured refinement, and tapped it lightly against his palm with a "snap."

Shattered flecks of gold foil on the fan shimmered like scattered stars. "Old Zhuang, you jest."

His brows suddenly lifted, his gaze piercing through layers of cloud sea and shooting into the distance. "When the day comes that all the heroes under heaven gather, this