After sensing what was happening inside his body, Fu HongJun didn’t know what to do. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and the only thing he could think of was to refine his body with some exercise just like before.

But the unfamiliar sensation spreading through his chest made him panic again.

He called out in his mind, voice trembling:

“Master, my wounds… they’re healing on their own. What am I? Am I still human? Did I… become powerful?”

Emperor Ye snorted.

“Powerful, my ass. You think coughing blood makes you a god? Just sit your butt down. Don’t move. Don’t ask stupid questions. And definitely don’t try to do anything stupid until you finish the first level of body refinement. Got it, smelly brat?”

Fu HongJun shut up instantly.

His mouth opened, then closed again. He swallowed hard and nodded to himself.

“…Yes, Master.”

He didn’t speak another word and simply focused on adapting to the strange yet comforting energy flowing through his body. Even as his knees continued to press into the stone tiles, he began to find a strange rhythm in his breath. His heartbeat was steady. His pain dulled.

And deep inside, a mysterious warmth continued to churn, soft but firm, like the stirring of a beast slowly waking up.

From the academy entrance, Dean Xue Tianhai had been silently watching the entire time.

He let out a long sigh and scratched his bare chin with a complicated expression.

“That little brat’s healing like some beast… and he still doesn’t know what he is.”

He turned back toward the hall, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Looks like LuLi just met her nemesis. Hah…”
“…Forget it. I’ll just enjoy the show.”

With that, the dean strolled back inside, hands behind his back, leaving the two kneeling kids to face the simmering heat of the sun and the tension that hadn’t yet cooled between them.

The day ended with punishment, but the night brought no comfort.

Under the dim light of the courtyard lanterns, Fu HongJun was still kneeling. His knees trembled violently now, sore and raw from hours of pressure against the stone tiles. But he didn’t care.

His mind was elsewhere burning with silent frustration.

“How do I beat that girl…?” he thought, clenching his jaw. “She’s fast, brutal, and clearly trained. But there has to be a way…”

Just as he began forming his revenge plan, a sudden realization hit him like a slap to the face.

“Wait… she called Auntie Yang ‘Mom’?!”

He stiffened.

“…So she’s her daughter?!”

For a moment, he felt like the heavens themselves were mocking him. He sighed and quietly buried his anger, pressing down the revenge plan into the cold corner of his heart.

He slowly turned his head to glance at Xue LuLi.

There she was, sitting elegantly under the moonlight, legs crossed like a young empress, enjoying dried plums and roasted seeds brought by her personal servant. She looked more like someone on vacation than someone being punished.

Fu HongJun shook his head.

“What kind of punishment is this…” he muttered internally.

Just then, the bell of the food hall rang in the distance, a sharp, clear chime that echoed through the academy grounds.

Xue LuLi stood up gracefully, brushing the dust from her robes like she’d just finished a royal meditation rather than a public punishment. She glanced at Fu HongJun with a sneer.

“You. Smelly country bumpkin.”
Her voice was sweet but venomous.
“If you dare step into the food hall again, I’ll teach you how to write the word death with your own blood.”

Fu HongJun didn’t even blink. He stayed kneeling, motionless.

She waited for a reply, but silence stretched on.

Her smile twitched. Irritated by the lack of reaction, she scanned the ground, spotted a small stone, and picked it up.

Thunk!

She threw it at him. The stone struck his forehead cleanly, and a thin line of blood began trickling down his face.

Fu HongJun slowly lifted his head.

His eyes locked onto hers calm, cold, and sharp like a blade still sheathed.

He didn’t say a word.

Xue LuLi held his gaze for a moment, but something in those eyes made her snort and turn away.

She spun on her heel and walked toward the inner gate, her servant trailing behind like a shadow.

Without looking back, she strode straight to the food hall head high, pride intact.

Just as Xue LuLi disappeared into the distance, the night air shifted.

A gust of wind rustled the trees. Leaves swirled like startled birds.

Then

Tap.

A single sound, like a footstep on stone.

Fu HongJun blinked.

An old man suddenly stood in front of the gate, as if he had always been there. No one saw him arrive. One moment the space was empty. The next, he stood there, arms crossed, long white beard dancing in the breeze, sharp eyes gleaming like cold stars.

His presence felt ancient. Heavy. Dangerous.

He didn’t speak immediately. He simply stared at Fu HongJun, like a craftsman inspecting a strange stone to see whether it was trash… or treasure.

Then, with a slight scoff, the old man broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked, his voice hoarse like dry wood rubbing together.
“Are you even a boy? Sitting there like a coward. You looked like a little girl.”

Fu HongJun raised his head slowly, blood still dried on his forehead.

His gaze didn’t falter.

“Fight?” he said softly. “I want to fight her. I want to beat her to death. But how? She’s Auntie Yang’s daughter… and I don’t even know how to fight.”

The night grew quiet.

A dry breeze passed through.

The old man’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered. His hands remained behind his back, unmoving.

The two of them stared at each other: an old monster, and a small, bloodied boy.

Then, the old man narrowed his eyes and asked again:

“If you did know how to fight,would you dare to fight her again?”

Fu HongJun didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

The old man’s lip twitched, like he was tempted to kick the kid in the head—but after a second, he relaxed.

A strange grin crept onto his face.

“Tch. Reckless brat.”
He exhaled and cracked his neck.
“Fine. I hate talking nonsense, so I’ll say this once,do you want to train under me?”

Fu HongJun blinked.

The old man continued, voice sharp and direct.

“More effective training methods. You’ll become powerful one day. It’s more dangerous, but the gains are greater.”

Fu HongJun’s fingers curled into fists. His heart pounded in his chest.

The old man’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light.
“Well? What’s your answer, brat?”

But Fu HongJun didn’t respond right away. He squinted up at the old man and asked cautiously,
“Are you from this academy?”

The old man blinked.

He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t introduced himself. And honestly, he didn’t feel like doing so now.
So he simply waved his hand dismissively and replied,
“Yes. I am indeed from this academy.”

Fu HongJun frowned slightly, then pressed further:
“Compared to Auntie Yang… are you stronger?”

His tone wasn’t defiant, just full of raw, honest frustration.

“I want to fight that stupid girl so badly… but if I touch her, I’ll have to fight Auntie Yang too. I can’t win against her.”

For a moment, the old man said nothing.

Auntie Yang… huh.

He scratched his beard slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

He wasn’t sure how to answer. He didn’t feel like explaining the ancient grudges, academy politics, or the terrifying fact that Auntie Yang could probably beat him into soup if she got serious.

So, he simply gave the boy what he wanted.

“…Yes.”

Then he said

“Brat, come with me. Your punishment ends here.”
The old man’s voice was firm, and his eyes glinted with a strange mix of amusement and mischief.

“Oh…” Fu HongJun replied faintly, still a little dazed.

Without another word, the old man turned and led him straight into the food hall.