Class Meeting: A Handsome Face Followed by an Even More Authoritative Handsome Face

Tang Wulin did not sleep well at all that night.

In the blink of an eye, it was time for the class meeting.

The door to the classroom of Class Five, Grade One was pushed open.

A figure as upright as a pine tree walked in, clad in white as snow with hair like a cascading blue waterfall. His expression was cold and his temperament aloof; it was none other than the new homeroom teacher for Class Five, Wu Changkong.

The clamor in the classroom froze instantly.

Every student, regardless of gender, had their gaze drawn to him as if by a magnet, their eyes firmly pinned to him as gasps of amazement rose one after another.

"Wow! So handsome!"

"Good heavens, this teacher is just too good-looking!"

"He's so cold and icy, he has such an aura!"

The girls had hearts in their eyes, trembling with excitement to the point of fainting.

The boys, meanwhile, wore complex expressions—a mix of envy, inferiority, and defiance.

Just as everyone was immersed in the impact of that peerless, handsome face.

Another person walked in behind Wu Changkong.

The newcomer's pace was leisurely, his posture relaxed.

He was also dressed in white, yet it carried a completely different charm when worn by him.

With black hair and black eyes, his face was so handsome it was almost demonic. A faint, elusive smile played at the corners of his lips, and his eyes were deep, as if hiding endless starlight.

If Wu Changkong was the eternal, unmelting ice atop a snow-capped mountain, biting and piercing.

Then this youth was like the lazy sunshine of a spring afternoon, yet possessed a mysterious gravity that made one's heart race.

When this face appeared at the doorway.

The entire classroom seemed to have been hit with a pause button, even the previous gasps choked off in their throats.

Immediately following was a scream ten times more intense and a hundred times more frantic than before!

"Ahhh!"

"Oh my god! What am I seeing?!"

"Yao Chuan! It's Yao Chuan! That genius writer Yao Chuan! He's in our class too?"

"Am I dreaming? Yao Chuan is ten thousand times better-looking in person than in photos! Damn it, why am I in Class One? No, I have to get into Class Five!"

The girls had completely lost their minds.

Clutching their chests, faces flushed red, they were incoherent with excitement, wishing they could pounce on him immediately.

The boys collectively gasped, looking at that face and then back at Wu Changkong, realizing for the first time what it meant to say, "there is always someone better."

The scene was momentarily out of control.

Dean Long Hengxu, following behind, felt his eyelids twitch violently.

He coughed hard twice, attempting to restore order: "Quiet! Quiet! Everyone sit down! What kind of behavior is this!"

However, the effect was minimal.

The girls' gazes remained glued to Yao Chuan, impossible to peel away.

Even Wu Changkong's eternal iceberg face flickered with a trace of the most subtle fluctuation.

Although he had always treated the adoration of the outside world as nothing.

Especially that of a bunch of brats.

But as someone who also possessed top-tier looks, to suddenly discover that he had been outshone by a nine-year-old child...

The feeling was somewhat subtle.

He turned his head, his ice-blue eyes carrying a hint of scrutiny as he took a deep look at Yao Chuan beside him.

His gaze was meaningful.

This "problem student" assigned to Class Five had certainly left him with a deep impression.

Yao Chuan, however, seemed completely oblivious to Wu Changkong's gaze.

He didn't even spare a glance for the fanatical stares of those around him, who looked as if they wanted to swallow him whole.

His gaze, filled with contemplation, landed precisely on a seat in the back row of the classroom.

Wei Xiaofeng was sitting there.

Yao Chuan frowned slightly.

In many of the Douluo fanfictions he had read in his previous life, there were plot points about this guy eventually falling into the path of an Evil Soul Master. He was feeling a bit dazed now, struggling to understand whether that was truly the original plot setting or purely a fan-made creation?

He calculated silently in his heart.

Being stared at by Yao Chuan with such focused intensity.

Wei Xiaofeng only felt a chill run down his back, his entire body feeling uneasy.

He forced himself to keep up appearances, stiffening his neck as he shouted at Yao Chuan, "Hey! Su Wenjun! What are you looking at?!"

Yao Chuan pulled back his thoughts and raised an eyebrow.

He strolled over at a leisurely pace and stopped beside Wei Xiaofeng's desk.

Then, under Wei Xiaofeng's wary and somewhat annoyed gaze, he raised his hand and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Nothing."

Yao Chuan's tone was flat, devoid of any discernible emotion.

"I was just thinking that you don't look much like a good student."

He paused.

Those obsidian-like eyes stared straight at Wei Xiaofeng, his tone suddenly carrying a deep, cautionary weight.

"Kid, remember my words."

"In this day and age..."

"A person must never take the wrong path. One wrong step, and you are doomed beyond redemption. Do you understand?"

Wei Xiaofeng was stunned by the pat, and even more dazed by the weight of those words.

What was that supposed to mean?

Warning me?

By what right does he get to warn me?

Just because he's a genius writer and handsome?

A nameless fire flared up instantly.

Wei Xiaofeng glared fiercely at Yao Chuan, opening his mouth to retort at this pretentious, old-fashioned guy.

However, before he could speak.

Wu Changkong, standing at the podium, had already tapped the desk.

His cold voice was not loud, yet it seemed to carry shards of ice, instantly suppressing all the whispering in the classroom.

"Quiet."

"Begin your self-introductions."

Wu Changkong's gaze swept across the room with an unquestionable command.

"Name, Martial Soul, Soul Power Level. Begin."

One student after another went up to the stage.

Soon, it was Tang Wulin's turn.

He walked to the front of the podium and spoke with some nervousness: "Tang Wulin, Martial Soul Blue Silver Grass, Soul Power Level 11..."

After finishing his introduction, he hesitated for a moment and added: "Goal... I don't have a goal yet."

His voice was not loud, carrying a hint of imperceptible confusion.

Wei Xiaofeng, sitting below, was already brimming with pent-up frustration from his encounter with Yao Chuan.

Having just been warned by Yao Chuan with that "looking at a delinquent" gaze, he was feeling extremely displeased.

Hearing Tang Wulin, with his "trash Martial Soul," say he had "no goal," he felt as if he had found a punching bag.

He couldn't help but sneer from his seat, muttering under his breath.

The volume was just right for those around him to hear.

"Tch!"

"It's a trash Martial Soul, so of course he has no goals."

"Just waiting to rot away, I suppose."

His tone was laced with mockery.

However, the moment the words left his lips.

"Whoosh—"

A faint, almost imperceptible sound of something cutting through the air rang out!

A white piece of chalk, like a precision-guided micro-missile, shot down from the podium with lightning speed!

It hit perfectly!

It flew straight into Wei Xiaofeng's mouth, which was still half-open from his sneer!

"Ugh... pfft!"

Caught off guard, the chalk lodged right in Wei Xiaofeng's throat.

In an instant, he was choking, his face turning bright red, stars dancing in his vision as he clutched his neck and gagged uncontrollably, looking utterly wretched.

On the podium, Wu Changkong withdrew his hand, his gaze as cold and sharp as a blade. His voice was not loud, yet it echoed clearly through the silent classroom, carrying a bone-chilling frost.

"In this world..."

"There are no trash martial souls! Only trash people!"

"When you call others trash... go take a piss and look at yourself... to see what kind of pathetic creature you really are!"

"If you weren't trash... would you have ended up being assigned to Class Five?!"

The icy words landed.

Like a series of resounding slaps, they struck Wei Xiaofeng across the face and hammered heavily against the heart of every student present.

Wei Xiaofeng clutched his throat, his complexion shifting from red to green to white, staring at Wu Changkong on the podium with a mix of shock and fury.

Yet, he dared not utter a single word of rebuttal, forced to swallow his humiliation and rage back into his gut.

Subconsciously, he turned his resentful eyes once more to glare fiercely at the "culprit" who had caused him to be hit by the chalk—Yao Chuan.

Just at that moment.

It was Yao Chuan's turn to go on stage for his self-introduction.

Under the focused gaze of the entire class, especially the resentment-filled eyes of Wei Xiaofeng.

Amidst the even more fervent stares of all the girls, which seemed hot enough to melt a person.

Yao Chuan's expression remained unchanged.

He walked onto the podium with a relaxed posture.

His gaze swept across the room with casual indifference.

There was no superfluous nonsense.

His voice was calm, reaching everyone's ears with perfect clarity.

"Yao Chuan."

"Martial soul... Black Dragon."

"Soul power... level thirty-one."

As those few simple words fell.

The entire classroom instantly plunged into a deathly silence!