Deep Night Stubborn Figure

The night was as black as ink, and all was silent. The courtyard rented by Blazing Fire Academy had long since gone dark. The daytime clamor and the crushing weight of defeat lay over everyone's hearts like invisible boulders, turning into heavy sleepiness or restless tossing and turning.

In Huo Wu's room, the window stood wide open. The Night Wind swept in with a chill, yet it could not dispel the heat and cold in her heart. She lay on her bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the blurred patterns on the ceiling as two scenes from the day replayed over and over in her mind—the miserable sight of Brother Huo Wushuang coughing blood and being carried from the arena unconscious, and Zhang Bufan's teasing, controlling gaze at Drunken Immortal Tower.

A sharp, stabbing pain repeatedly pierced her pride.

"Not enough... I'm still not strong enough..." she muttered soundlessly, yet her voice seemed especially clear in the silent room. If she had been strong enough, she could have shared Brother Huo Wushuang's burden on the field and perhaps turned the battle around. If she had been strong enough, she would not have been so easily handled like a child before that bastard Zhang Bufan, unable to mount even the slightest effective resistance.

The sensation of him casually grasping her wrist at the Training Ground during the day still seemed branded onto her skin. It carried an undeniable sense of strength that made her heart race—and made her... furious at her own helplessness.

"Whew—"

She abruptly sat up, her chest heaving violently. She could not keep lying there. Every second of silence seemed to be mocking her weakness. She quietly got out of bed without disturbing Brother Huo Wushuang next door, who might also have been unable to sleep. Like a red phantom in the night, she slipped silently out of the courtyard and headed straight for the small forest outside the Barracks used for daily training.

The moonlight was cold, filtering through sparse branches and leaves to cast mottled spots across the clearing. This was the place she had chosen to vent her frustration.

"Ha!"

Without any further preparation, Huo Wu let out a low cry as Soul Power surged through her body. Two yellow and one purple Soul Rings rose from beneath her feet, slowly moving around her. The Third Soul Ring, a deep violet, suddenly lit up!

"Third Soul Skill, Flame Storm!"

She thrust both hands forward. Violent flame Soul Power burst forth like wild horses breaking free, condensing into a scorching fire tornado that roared toward a huge boulder in the distance. With a thunderous boom, the boulder's surface was scorched black as stone chips flew everywhere.

After that attack, Huo Wu did not pause for a moment. Her figure flashed swiftly through the forest.

"First Soul Skill, Fire Dance Sun!"

A condensed fireball shot out and slammed into a tree trunk, exploding in a dazzling burst of flame.

"Second Soul Skill, Scorching Whip!"

A long whip formed from flame appeared out of thin air, cracking through the air and leaving behind twisted waves of heat.

Like a tireless machine, she madly repeated the motions of releasing Soul Skills. Flames illuminated her stubborn, pale face again and again. Sweat had already soaked her short red hair, trickling down her cheeks and neck before dripping onto the soil beneath her feet and instantly evaporating.

She was overdrawing herself, recklessly exhausting her Soul Power and physical strength. Every release of a Soul Skill was accompanied by an unwilling cry from the depths of her heart. In her mind, the terrifying pressure of the Hell White Tiger formed by Dai Weisi and Zhu Zhuyun, and Zhang Bufan's face with its playful smile, appeared in turns, tormenting her already taut nerves.

"Why... why can't I be stronger!"

"Boom!" Another Flame Storm erupted, this time aimed at a row of trees as thick as bowls. They were instantly set ablaze, flames raging fiercely.

"If I were stronger... Brother wouldn't have..."

"Crack!" Scorching Whip lashed the ground, carving out a charred trench.

"That bastard... what gives him the right to be so strong? What gives him the right to treat me like that!"

The flames in her hands constantly changed shape, yet they could never drive away the chill and frustration in her heart.

No one knew how long passed. When she tried to gather Soul Power once more, a sharp emptiness and stabbing pain rose from her Dantian. Her Soul Power had finally been completely depleted.

Her charging body staggered. Unable to support herself any longer, she dropped to one knee with a thud. Both hands braced against the scorching ground as she gasped for breath, her lungs pumping violently like bellows while the taste of blood filled her throat.

Sweat streamed from her forehead and temples like rivulets, mixing with tears that had slipped down without her noticing. They dripped onto the blackened ground with faint sizzling sounds.

Silence once more engulfed the forest. Only her heavy breathing and the distant crackling of burning trees remained.

Helplessness, like an icy tide, completely swallowed her. She did not even have the strength to wipe the sweat and tears from her face. She simply stared at the ground, fists clenched tightly, her knuckles white and trembling from the force.

"Not enough... still not strong enough..." she choked out, her voice hoarse and despairing as she repeated the nightmare buried deepest in her heart. Her fist suddenly rose, and with the last shred of strength she possessed, she slammed it viciously into the ground!

"Bang!"

Dust rose into the air. Pain shot through the back of her hand, but she seemed unable to feel it. Only the resentment buried to her bones and her desire to become stronger burned madly in her chest, nearly reducing even herself to ashes.

She remained kneeling there, like a young beast licking its wounds alone after being injured—stubborn, yet fragile. Moonlight stretched her shadow long, long across the ground, filling it with endless loneliness.

She did not know—or rather, in her current condition, she could not possibly notice—that at the edge of the forest, beneath the shadow of a great tree, a figure had been standing there for an unknown length of time.

Zhang Bufan stood with his arms folded, leaning against the trunk as he quietly watched the red figure kneeling in the middle of the clearing. The usual amusement and laziness had vanished from his face, replaced by a complicated emotion—admiration, pity, and a trace of... understanding.

He had long guessed that she would do something like this. How could a girl as proud and fierce as fire accept defeat so easily? Especially after she had watched someone close to her get hurt because he was not strong enough, and after she herself had been provoked by the identity of being "weak."

Watching her train with such self-destructive madness until she collapsed from exhaustion, her profile streaked with sweat and tears looking so pale yet so stubborn beneath the moonlight, Zhang Bufan's heart stirred slightly.

"What... a foolish girl." He sighed soundlessly, though a faintly gentle curve touched his lips, one so slight that even he did not notice it.

He did not reveal himself immediately. He waited for her to expend her last bit of strength, waited for the moment when despair and exhaustion completely enveloped her. He knew that only in such a state would she truly be able to listen to certain words.

Now, the time had come.

He straightened up and slowly stepped out from the shadows. His footsteps rang clearly through the silent forest.