Ye Chuqi crouched beside Cyril and poked the bruise on his face with a fair-skinned finger. "Ooh, got beaten up?"
Cyril hissed. The light in his eyes had barely begun to brighten at the sight of her before her words—and the pain in his face—snuffed it out. "Aren't you going to help?"
Herman hadn't joined the fight himself, but the classmates he had brought were no pushovers. Herman was a fourth-rank Martial Fighter, and the others were all third-rank. A rank or two made little difference at their level, but Herman's group had an overwhelming advantage in numbers and saw nothing wrong with using it. Two Archmages had drained the brothers' Magic Power, then Martial Fighters had stepped in to keep them pinned down.
"Do they need help?" Ye Chuqi tilted her head and asked in complete earnest.
Perhaps it was a habit she had picked up on Lush Mountain, but she didn't jump into a fight unless her companions asked for help. Of course, she also had to judge whether they were the sort to ask, or whether they were simply too stubborn or too proud to speak up.
Her companions on Lush Mountain often treated danger as a whetstone for their skills. They wouldn't ask for help until they had been beaten so badly they could barely look after themselves.
Ye Chuqi was used to it by now. And judging by the brothers, miserable as they looked, they seemed able to hold on.
Cyril fell silent.
Ye Chuqi's exchange with Cyril was heard not only by the brothers but by Herman's group as well. Yet they had never considered her their main target. Even if she had some skill, they outnumbered her and were stronger than her side. Once they dealt with the Archmage brothers, she couldn't turn