The Emperor Auspicious Beast's Destiny? Gu Yue's Back Chilled

Soon, it was Lin An's turn again.

He walked toward the arena step by step.

Seven-colored radiance swirled around his body.

The crowd opposite him fell silent for a moment.

Then, a young girl stepped out.

She had a tall figure, half a head taller than girls her age, with long legs, a slender waist, and a neat high ponytail.

She had a heart-shaped face, fair skin, and delicate features.

She stepped onto the arena and raised her eyes to look at Lin An.

Then, her footsteps faltered for an instant.

A flash of astonishment crossed those cold, indifferent eyes.

"Li Chushui, level eleven, agility-attack system."

Lin An nodded.

Wu Zhangkong's gaze swept between the two of them, and he spoke coldly: "Begin."

The moment the words fell, Li Chushui vanished.

She didn't actually vanish.

She was just too fast.

Her figure left a lingering afterimage in place, while her true self had already streaked toward Lin An's side like an arrow released from a bow.

The soul ring beneath her feet lit up; First Soul Skill: Shadow Step, increasing her speed by thirty percent.

A short gasp erupted from beneath the stage.

So fast.

This strike was enough to tear through any defense of the same level.

And then—

Lin An tilted his head to the left.

The movement was light, very casual, as if he had just wanted to stretch his neck at that exact moment.

Li Chushui's fingertips brushed past his ear.

It missed by a hair's breadth.

She hadn't touched anything.

Li Chushui's pupils constricted.

Her footwork shifted, and her figure turned into an afterimage once more.

The second strike.

She slashed down diagonally from the right.

Lin An happened to crouch down.

It wasn't a dodge, nor was it a prediction.

He simply felt that there was a bit of dust on his shoe at that moment and bent down to brush it off.

Li Chushui's attack swept over the top of his head, missing again.

The murmurs from beneath the arena began to grow louder.

Li Chushui gritted her teeth.

Her speed grew faster and faster, her afterimages drawing blurred trails across the arena.

The students watching from below could no longer see her movements clearly; they could only see a gray blur shuttling frantically.

Yet Lin An stood in place, his movements consistently slow and unhurried.

But every time, he was perfectly on point.

Every strike missed by only a hair's breadth.

The area beneath the stage fell completely silent.

No one spoke anymore.

Li Chushui stopped, her chest heaving violently, fine beads of sweat seeping onto her forehead.

She stared at Lin An, who stood a few paces away.

The youth remained standing in the same spot, not even a speck of dust on him.

His expression was even a bit bewildered.

"You—"

Li Chushui had just begun to speak.

The sky darkened abruptly.

Clouds churned violently, black masses pressing down from the horizon, hanging so low they nearly grazed the rooftops of the teaching buildings.

Li Chushui's expression shifted, and she instinctively tried to retreat.

She had only taken a single step.

BOOM—

A bolt of lightning descended from the heavens.

Blinding white light illuminated the entire sports field.

For that instant, everyone's vision turned into a vast, featureless white.

When the light faded, Li Chushui was already lying on the ground.

Her fingers were still twitching slightly, but she had completely lost consciousness.

The entire scene fell into a deathly silence.

Dozens of pairs of eyes were wide open, mouths agape, yet no sound could be uttered.

Then, every gaze turned in unison toward Lin An.

The youth stood on the arena stage, the seven-colored radiance still flowing quietly around his body.

He looked up at the sky, his brow furrowing slightly.

A single raindrop landed on his forehead.

"It's going to rain."

He said, his voice soft and tinged with a hint of helplessness.

The crowd below finally erupted.

"What the hell—"

"Once is a coincidence, but twice?"

"Zhou Changxi slips and knocks himself out, and Li Chushui gets struck by lightning? Who the hell would believe this?"

"Could he have twin martial souls? Is his second martial soul the God of Plague? Or a jinx?"

The buzzing of discussions swelled into a roar.

Every face was etched with disbelief.

If the first incident could be explained away by "Zhou Changxi is just trash," then what about the second?

Everyone present had seen Li Chushui's speed clearly.

How could an assault of that caliber be dodged so casually by an auxiliary-system soul master?

And then, a bolt of heavenly lightning struck her head with pinpoint accuracy.

Not a hair's breadth off.

The youth on the stage hadn't moved a single finger from start to finish.

Wu Zhangkong stood at the edge of the field, his expression extremely grim.

He stared at Lin An, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

It wasn't a soul skill.

He had seen it clearly.

The soul power fluctuations on Lin An's body had remained steady throughout, without a single abnormal ripple.

Was this pure luck?

Wu Zhangkong's brows knitted into a tight knot.

"Carry her off," he said coldly.

Two students ran onto the stage, scrambling to lift Li Chushui onto a stretcher.

The rain began to fall.

Drops pelted the ground of the sports field, splashing into tiny droplets.

Gu Yue stood in the crowd, looking neither at Li Chushui on the stage nor at the thickening rain clouds overhead.

Her gaze remained fixed on Lin An.

Within those purple eyes, complex emotions churned.

At that moment just now, she had keenly sensed something.

A shift in destiny.

The instant Li Chushui launched her attack.

The fortune above her head had suddenly plummeted, as if dragged violently from a great height into an abyss by an invisible hand.

The elements of heaven and earth began to repel her, and even the circulation of her soul power had become sluggish and obstructed.

The way Lin An dodged the attacks—

It was not because of speed.

It was the favor of fate itself.

Every sidestep, every bend of the waist, every timing of his raised hand was precise to the millimeter.

It was not him actively dodging; it was the world helping him dodge.

Gu Yue's heart sank.

Was it something similar to the power of fate possessed by the Emperor Auspicious Beast?

A scene suddenly flashed through Gu Yue's mind.

Ten thousand years ago.

Star Dou Forest.

The Emperor Auspicious Beast, the Three-Eyed Golden Lion, had been manipulated by Tang San into a connection of fate with Huo Yuhao.

Tang San had separated a wisp of his daughter Tang Wutong's divine consciousness and placed it within the Emperor Auspicious Beast, binding the fates of the three together.

What was the final result?

The Emperor Auspicious Beast fell in love with Huo Yuhao and sacrificed its life for him.

The fortune of the soul beast clan was completely plundered, becoming the stepping stone for Huo Yuhao's ascension to godhood.

Gu Yue's fingers slowly tightened, her knuckles turning white.

She looked up at Tang Wulin lying on the stretcher.

Tang Wulin.

Tang Wutong.

These two names were far too similar.

It was not a coincidence.

This was absolutely not a coincidence.

Tang Wulin carried the surname Tang, possessed the Golden Dragon King bloodline, and had the Blue Silver Grass martial soul.

He just happened to appear in East Sea City, just happened to meet Lin An, and just happened to gain the favor of the Dragon Queen.

How similar all of this was to ten thousand years ago.

Gu Yue's breathing suddenly became rapid.

She felt as if she could see that ending—

The Dragon Queen being manipulated, her power of fate being stolen, and ultimately dying at the hands of Tang Wulin.

Just like the Emperor Auspicious Beast, becoming a stepping stone for someone else's ascension.

Her pupils contracted violently, and silver vertical slits uncontrollably emerged.

Killing intent.

Cold, bone-chilling killing intent surged from the deepest part of her heart.

It was different from before.

Previously, she had only viewed Tang Wulin as a romantic rival, an unpleasant competitor.

But now—

She truly wanted to kill him.

It was not an emotional impulse, but a cold, clear decision.