Now? Them?

The ice soul begins to congeal on the twelfth floor, a trace of clear shadow carving the autumn sky. Traces remain by the clouds where stars struggle to linger, and no sound falls from the eaves where the dew has yet to be gathered.

Half a lifetime of drifting returns to the bottom of the inkstone, the flickering light at the third watch caught on the curtain hook. Even if the Moon Palace were to grant the elixir of immortality, it would not compare to the two of us growing old together in the human world.

It was the same Training Room as always, and the same Iron Puppet that kept being replaced.

The Soul Guidance Core in the puppet's chest continued to emit a glow, but the nagging of certain people was already missing from his ears.

Situ Xuan's fist stopped three inches from the Iron Puppet's chest. He slowly retracted his arm, his fingertips trembling uncontrollably.

Sweat dripped down his chin, adding another dark stain to the collar of his already soaked training uniform.

He took two steps back, turned around, and pressed his spine against the cold metal body of the Iron Puppet.

The cold light from the ceiling lamps hit the puppet's shell, the shadows of the uneven fist marks interlacing like a distorted face.

He raised his hand to look at his palm, where two fresh abrasions had bled and already dried.

The injury on his left rib was throbbing again; he subconsciously reached out to press it, his fingertips touching the rough texture of the bandage.

The Soul Guidance Core in the Iron Puppet's chest flickered, the hum of mechanical operation exceptionally clear in the empty room.

Situ Xuan stared at that point of blue light for a while, then reached out to turn off the power switch.

The whirring stopped abruptly, and the Training Room plunged into an even more thorough silence.

The ticking of the second hand on the wall clock suddenly became prominent.

It was already 4:16 PM; at this time in the past, someone should have pushed open the door to the Training Room, carrying the smell of smoke and a lazy smile.

Situ Xuan bent down to pick up his water bottle and took a drink.

The water had already gone cold, bringing a hint of discomfort as it slid down his throat. He tightened the cap and tossed the bottle into his backpack.

The Iron Puppet stood there at a slant, its right arm joint loosened from continuous heavy strikes, hanging at an unnatural angle.

Situ Xuan walked over to straighten it, the residual heat on the metal surface transferring through his palm.

The door to the Training Room was suddenly blown ajar by the wind, and the sound of footsteps in the hallway could be heard faintly.

Situ Xuan turned his head toward the door, but no one entered.

The wind soon pushed the door shut again.

He walked back to the center of the room, bending down to pick up the scattered bandages and protective gear.

The bandages were stained with yesterday's blood, which had already turned brown.

He balled them up and threw them into the trash can, the metal bin emitting a dull thud.

The door to the Training Room let out a "creak."

Situ Xuan didn't even look up, continuing to organize the gear on the floor.

"Do you want to go and see their progress for yourself?"

Situ Xuan's fingers paused. He slowly straightened his back and turned to look at the door.

Wu Zhangkong stood there, his white teacher's uniform spotless, his long blue hair hanging to his waist. His expression remained cold, his right hand holding a thermos, his left hand hanging at his side.

Situ Xuan suddenly chuckled, "Now? Them?"

The two mocking questions did not cause the slightest change in the expression on Wu Zhangkong's face.

It wasn't just Long Xiuyuan who understood this student before him.

How could Wu Zhangkong not have felt the will conveyed by that violence during their intermittent bouts?

"Them."

Wu Zhangkong replied affirmatively, "Now."

Situ Xuan nodded and said listlessly, "Then I'll trouble Teacher Wu to lead the way."

The sunset dyed the long corridor into a flowing scroll of gilded gold; the tips of Situ Xuan's hair were lifted and dropped by the warm breeze, like a cluster of restless black flames.

The glass window frames of the Training Room cut the sunset clouds into irregular geometric shapes. The edges of those clouds glowed with a strange halo, as if kneaded by some invisible force, presenting the contradictory textures of blade-like sharpness and cotton-candy softness.

The ventilation duct at the end of the corridor sent over a warm current from time to time, carrying the peculiar scent of metal scorched by the sun.

Situ Xuan's hem fluttered in the breeze, revealing a bruise on his waist that had not yet fully healed—the result of the last elbow strike Long Xiuyuan had landed yesterday.

He reached out to press down on the hem of his shirt, his palm touching the dried bloodstains on the fabric, which felt as hard as coarse sandpaper.

"Why not try trusting your companions?"

Wu Zhangkong stopped in front of the ajar door of the training hall and suddenly turned around: "Perhaps it would be a pleasant feeling."

Situ Xuan was stunned by Wu Zhangkong's sudden question, then he grinned, "Those who cannot keep up with me, what right do they have to stand by my side?"

"Is that so?"

A smile suddenly appeared on Wu Zhangkong's face, a bizarre sight that made Situ Xuan instinctively wary.

"We shall wait and see."

Wu Zhangkong did not actually do anything strange, his face returning to its usual cold, indifferent appearance.

Seeing this, Situ Xuan actually breathed a sigh of relief.

In a place where Situ Xuan could not see, Wu Zhangkong could not help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

Was his... image really that rigid?

When the heavy metal door of the C7 Training Room was pushed open by Wu Zhangkong, it emitted a dull creaking sound.

The five members of the Zero Class looked up simultaneously, their gazes passing over Wu Zhangkong's signature white robes to land on the unfamiliar figure behind him.

The dagger spinning in Xie Xie's hand suddenly stopped, the metal blade reflecting a cold glint. He narrowed his eyes to size up Situ Xuan at the door, his gaze sweeping from the opponent's tattered combat suit to his bandage-wrapped hands, finally settling on the faint bloodstain seeping through his left rib area.

"And this is...?"

Xie Xie tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curling into a playful smile. His voice was not loud, yet it was exceptionally clear in the spacious training room.

Tang Wulin stood up from his cross-legged position and brushed the dust off his pants. When he looked at Situ Xuan again, his eyes held a hint of complexity.

Gu Yue, on the other hand, was indifferent, her cold eyes merely glancing at Situ Xuan out of curiosity.

Zhang Yangzi and Wang Jinxi looked at Situ Xuan with wariness; although it had been less than a few days since the end of the Class Promotion Tournament, the feeling of facing a formidable enemy still lingered in their hearts.

As one of the six members of the first-year Zero Class, Situ Xuan remained in the Zero Class, yet he continued to stay in that C7 Training Room. Aside from attending theoretical classes together, he never even had the intention of greeting the other five.

He was a complete training fanatic.

But precisely because of this, Xie Xie had a very poor impression of Situ Xuan.

Even Tang Wulin, who was a fellow townsman from Aolai City like Situ Xuan, did not quite know how to face him.

He was clearly happy to be able to train together with him, but Situ Xuan did not seem to recognize him as a companion.

Wu Zhangkong clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Since the formation of the Zero Class, we haven't officially let you all truly get to know one another. Since that's the case, let's have a practical combat training session."

"Combat is the best way to help you understand others."

As he spoke, Wu Zhangkong pointed at the five of Tang Wulin, then pointed at Situ Xuan. "The five of you will join forces to conduct a practical combat training session against Situ Xuan."