A pale golden radiance quietly spread, soundlessly enveloping the entire field. Though it carried no overwhelming pressure, it held a strange power that struck directly at the soul.
The next second, just as Zhao Wuji was about to make his move, his body abruptly stiffened in place. His eyes instantly turned vacant and bewildered as he plunged completely into the mental illusion Qin Chuan had created.
The fierce battlefield before him faded away, replaced by the youthful scenes of years past.
At that moment, Zhao Wuji was no more than a sixteen-year-old boy. His frame was still immature, yet he had the reckless impulsiveness of a mischievous youth.
He was crouched on the blue-brick wall around an open-air bath, tiptoeing and holding his breath as he secretly peered at the alluring springtime scenery within.
The pool water shimmered, mist swirled through the air, and the view was captivating. Young Zhao Wuji stared without blinking, his heart stirred.
But this illicit glimpse of beauty did not last long. The mansion's master caught him red-handed.
After a stern scolding, he was brutally beaten, left in a sorry state and stripped of all dignity.
This shameful, frustrating episode was the darkest chapter in Zhao Wuji's past, buried deep in his heart for years. It had haunted him all this time, filling him with guilt and regret whenever he thought of it.
On the real battlefield, the burly, imposing Zhao Wuji had lost all his earlier ferocity and swagger. His legs gave way, and he slowly crouched on the ground, his massive head bowed. Desolation and remorse filled his face, and the violent Soul Power around him fell completely silent.
This was the true power of Sinful Haze. It did not attack the body, only the mind. It forcibly dragged out the darkest memories people least wanted to speak of, trapping them in the shackles of their emotions until they could no longer break free.
A few breaths later, Zhao Wuji, whose willpower far exceeded that of ordinary people, suddenly shuddered. The bewilderment in his eyes vanished in an instant. Drawing on years of blood-soaked experience and his formidable spiritual foundation, he forcibly broke free of the illusion's restraints and snapped back to his senses.
The moment he returned to reality, a bone-chilling sense of danger swept over him.
Countless strands of Blue Silver Grass had already coiled around him, tightly binding his limbs and pinning him firmly in place so that he could not move at all.
At his side, Zhu Zhuqing moved like a ghostly afterimage. She had already closed in, and her kick, trailing a fierce gust of wind, was inches away, headed straight for his chest.
Bang!
A dull impact rang out, and powerful Soul Power surged outward.
Even though he was bound and restricted, Zhao Wuji's physique was still formidable. He took the blow head-on, then retreated several steps with the force of the impact. The ground beneath his feet trembled faintly.
He steadied himself, his face dark with anger. Gritting his teeth, he growled, "Hmph! You little brats!"
In his fury, Zhao Wuji's Soul Power surged in an instant, blazing with dazzling light as the terrifying pressure of his beast spirit swept across the field.
"Seventh Soul Skill..."
His deep, domineering shout had barely left his throat when Dai Mubai, who had been watching from the sidelines the whole time, suddenly called out to interrupt him. "Teacher Zhao, the incense has burned for one stick!"
The moment the words fell, the battlefield fell silent.
Zhao Wuji's raised fist abruptly froze in midair. The Seventh Soul Skill, poised to unleash, caught in his throat, while the Soul Power surging around him instantly grew chaotic and subsided.
He turned to look at the timekeeping incense. Seeing that it had burned down to ash, his face darkened like ink. Frustration overwhelmed him, and his fury had nowhere to go.
"What? That fast? Damn it, you brats got lucky!"
He gritted his teeth, seething with resentment, but the rules of the test left him no choice but to force down his urge to attack.
Watching his teacher suffer a loss and have no choice but to swallow it, Dai Mubai struggled to hold back a laugh, nearly bursting out on the spot.
Zhao Wuji gave a heavy snort and glared at everyone. In the end, he turned and swept away, leaving the field with a bellyful of frustration.
Only after Zhao Wuji had gone far away did everyone finally breathe a sigh of relief. Their tense bodies relaxed at once.
Even Tang San, usually so steady, could no longer bear the exhaustion. Forgetting all semblance of composure, he collapsed onto the ground, then simply lay flat on his back, gasping for breath. Most of his Soul Power was spent.
Ning Rongrong's delicate body trembled slightly. Fine beads of sweat covered her brow, and damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks. She was drenched in perspiration, plainly exhausted.
Oscar, who had been waiting nearby and watching for a long time, immediately hurried over when he saw this. With a fawning smile, he sidled up to her and said, "Miss Ning, you must be exhausted, right? I've got some Big Sausages that are specially made to restore Soul Power. They work wonders! I'll give you a special discount—no charge, they're free!"
Ning Rongrong breathed lightly and gave the obsequious, greasy-looking boy before her a casual glance. Her eyes remained calm, with not the slightest ripple—only a trace of barely perceptible distance.
Faced with Oscar's deliberate flattery, she did not linger. She turned and walked away briskly without looking back, heading straight toward Qin Chuan.
She went straight to Qin Chuan's side and sat down. Her small head tilted slightly as her clear eyes gazed steadily at the boy beside her.
Qin Chuan was still absorbed in the clash of Soul Skills and the battle of mental illusions. He murmured to himself as he reviewed the details of the fight, completely unaware of the beauty watching him.
Just then, a wisp of delicate fragrance quietly slipped into his nostrils. It was neither as heady as flowers nor as cool as morning dew, but the sweet, natural scent unique to a young girl—gentle and pure.
Startled awake by the fragrance, Qin Chuan came to his senses at once. His body stiffened slightly, and he turned his head, looking a little awkward as he said, "Sorry, Miss Ning. I was lost in thought. Did I disturb you?"
Ning Rongrong put on a composed front, but the tips of her ears quietly flushed red. Her thoughts had already dissolved into a complete muddle, and her heart raced like a startled deer.
Compared to Oscar, who had just been so oily and obsequious, Qin Chuan—composed, handsome, and a little shy—was a thousand times more pleasing to the eye.
As she thought about it, she couldn't help letting out a soft giggle. She found the boy before her especially cute.
Realizing that she had been staring at him too intently and that it was rude, she quickly looked away and waved her hands in a flustered attempt to cover it up. "It's fine, it's fine. You didn't disturb me. By the way, the martial soul you used just now was a Mutated Martial Soul, right? What's it called?"
Qin Chuan replied calmly and softly, "It's called the Heavenly Dao Illusion Bell."
The two sat side by side, talking quietly. The atmosphere was relaxed and warm.
Not far away, Xiao Wu sat quietly beside Tang San, in the same spot as before. Yet her heart had long since been turned upside down.
She looked at Tang San beside her. There was none of the dependence or radiant affection she had once shown him. The fluttering tenderness that had filled her heart had completely vanished, replaced by a faint sense of distance and dislike.
Turning to look at Qin Chuan and Ning Rongrong chatting and laughing nearby, she watched them getting along so well, and an inexplicable bitterness rose in Xiao Wu's heart. She couldn't put it into words; she only felt a dull ache in her chest.
Tang San lay exhausted on the ground beside her, completely unaware.
He would never have imagined that Xiao Wu, who had clung to him since childhood and had once had eyes only for him, had already, without realizing it, completely let go of her attachment to him and become Qin Chuan's.