The Accusation at the Gates
The smug grin on Xie Xie's face lasted only until Wu Zhangkong's retreating back disappeared into the academy corridors. "He praised us!" he exclaimed, puffing out his chest slightly, the sting of his earlier failure momentarily forgotten in the glow of collective victory.
Gu Yue, walking beside Yao Xuan with her usual ethereal composure, didn't even turn her head. Her voice was cool, a gentle rain on his parade. "He assessed our tactical adaptation. The praise, such as it was, was for the solution. A solution," she added with devastating clarity, "that was conceived and executed by Yao Xuan. Your contribution was providing a cautionary tale on the limitations of agility types against aerial opponents without a contingency plan. Do not conflate the two."
Xie Xie's face fell, then flushed. "Do you have to be like that? A guy takes a beating, works hard, and finally wins! Can't you just… I don't know, not poke at him for five minutes?"
Gu Yue finally glanced at him, her silver-purple eyes impassive. "My answer remains: no. False comfort breeds complacency. You are alive. That is comfort enough."
With a frustrated huff, Xie Xie turned away, crossing his arms. The dynamic was a familiar one—the effortless, cutting precision of Gu Yue clashing with Xie Xie's more brash and emotional nature.
Yao Xuan stepped into the space between them, a patient mediator. "Enough. Xie Xie, your awareness and reflexes have improved. Gu Yue, while your point is valid, the delivery could use less tactical bluntness outside the arena." He offered a small, conciliatory smile to both. "It's lunch. Let's celebrate the win. Tang Wulin!" he called, waving over their friend who was beaming with unabashed pride from the class group.
Tang Wulin jogged over, his eyes shining. "Brother Xuan, that was incredible! I'd never have thought of using ice like a projectile! You didn't just beat them; you out-thought the entire battlefield!"
"It was just utilizing available resources," Yao Xuan said modestly, clapping a hand on Tang Wulin's solid shoulder. "And a win for one is a win for the team. Come on, a Class A meal is on me today. We've earned it."
The promise of the academy's best伙食 temporarily smoothed over the minor friction. Over lunch, Xie Xie, ever the social catalyst, suggested extending the celebration outside the academy walls. "There's a new spirit-beast themed dessert place in the Eastern District! My treat!"
Yao Xuan shook his head, his expression regretful but firm. "I need to cultivate. The tournament is moving quickly, and we can't afford to slacken." His reason was truthful, but it also concealed a deeper calculation. The timeline in his memory suggested that repercussions from the Guanglong incident were due. Venturing out now would be walking blindly into a potential ambush. Better to stay within the relative sanctuary of the academy and let trouble come to him, on ground he could control.
The afternoon passed in the quiet rhythm of cultivation and recovery. The shared dormitory was a haven of concentrated energy as Yao Xuan activated the Creation Soul Forging Technique, the three boys bathing in the dense soul power. The normalcy was shattered just as evening began to paint the sky in hues of orange and purple.
The dormitory door burst open without warning. Yun Xiao, a classmate known for his calm demeanor, stood panting in the doorway, his face pale. "Yao Xuan! Xie Xie! Tang Wulin! You have to come! It's bad… the academy gate is blockaded!"
He gulped air, his eyes wide. "There are… hundreds of them. Tough-looking, armed. And they're holding up huge photos. Of you three, and Gu Yue! They're shouting… they're calling you murderers! What in the world did you do?"
A cold stillness settled over Yao Xuan. He exchanged a look with Tang Wulin and Xie Xie. No words were needed.
"It's about yesterday," Tang Wulin said, his voice low and sure.
"Has to be," Xie Xie nodded, his earlier cockiness gone, replaced by grim understanding. "Teacher Wu warned us. He said there'd be backing. Brother Xuan, what's the plan?"
Yao Xuan was already on his feet, his movements calm and deliberate. "The plan is exactly what Teacher Wu outlined. We bring the problem to him. He said his shoulders were broader. Let's test that." His calm was not indifference; it was the focused readiness of a commander deploying his assets.
As they stepped into the hallway, a flash of white and a whisper of motion approached. Gu Yue arrived, her long dark hair flowing behind her like a banner. Her beautiful face was serene, but her eyes held a sharp, alert focus.
"You've heard," Yao Xuan stated.
"The commotion is… unsubtle," she replied, her gaze steady on his. "It is the logical consequence."
"Agreed. Gu Yue, come with me to the gate to assess the situation directly. Wulin, Xie Xie—find Teacher Wu. Immediately. His office, the training grounds, check everywhere. Be quick."
Tang Wulin and Xie Xie nodded, a serious maturity settling over them, and took off at a run. Yao Xuan and Gu Yue moved in the other direction, their pace swift. As they walked, Yao Xuan felt a subtle shift in the air around them. Gu Yue didn't make a sound, didn't chant a spell, but a gentle, persistent breeze wrapped around their legs, lightening their steps and carrying them forward with preternatural speed. It was a minor, effortless display of her elemental mastery, a silent offer of support.
In under a minute, they reached the main plaza facing the academy's grand gates. The scene was one of controlled chaos.
The majestic wrought-iron gates were completely obscured by a wall of humanity—hard-faced men in nondescript but tactical gear, their eyes scanning the crowd with predatory intent. They held an array of weapons, but most chilling were the several large, tripod-mounted barrels of military-grade soul compression rifles. The implicit threat was clear: these were tools that could punch through the defenses of a Soul Elder or even a low-rank Soul Ancestor. This was no ordinary street gang; this was a small, heavily armed private militia.
At their forefront stood a man who dominated the space not just by size, but by aura. He was encased in sleek, purple mecha armor that covered his torso and limbs, humming with a low-grade spirit energy field. Even without it, his physique was formidable—a mountain of corded muscle. This was Guang Biao. Beside him, on a crude stretcher, lay the heavily bandaged, groaning form of Guanglong, a living testament to the accusation.
Behind them, like macabre banners, four enormous photographs were held aloft—crisp, clear images of Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, Xie Xie, and Tang Wulin, likely snatched from academy records or taken surreptitiously. A massive, crudely painted scroll unfurled beside them, screaming in bold characters: "A LIFE FOR A LIFE! DONGHAI ACADEMY, HAND OVER THE MURDERERS!"
The accusatory chant, "Hand over the murderer!", rose from the throats of the men in a rhythmic, intimidating wave.
Just as Yao Xuan and Gu Yue arrived from inside, Vice Dean Long Hengxu stormed out from the administrative building, a dozen teachers and senior campus security personnel at his back. His face was a thundercloud of institutional fury.
"What is the meaning of this!" Long Hengxu's voice, amplified by a sliver of soul power, boomed across the plaza, cutting through the chant. "You dare to lay siege to a Federation-sanctioned Soul Master Academy? Identify yourselves!"
The man in the mecha armor took a step forward, the servos in his legs whirring softly. His voice, projected through an external amplifier, was cold and flat, devoid of posturing. It was the voice of someone who believed his power granted him the right to this confrontation.
"I am Guang Biao. Captain of the Donghai City Third Mech Response Squadron. This," he gestured to the stretcher, "is my brother, Guanglong. Last night, four of your students launched an unprovoked, cowardly attack on him, leaving him with injuries that may cripple him for life. I am here to collect them. This is not a siege, Vice Dean Long. This is a citizen's arrest. Hand them over, and we leave peacefully."
Long Hengxu's eyes narrowed. A mech captain. That explained the weapons, the audacity. This was a man with official standing and a personal grievance—a dangerous combination. "Any allegations against our students will be investigated through proper legal and academic channels, Captain Guang. You will disband this mob and remove your weapons from academy property immediately, or I will have no choice but to summon the City Defense Army and file a formal complaint with your superior officer and the Federation Soul Master Administration."
Guang Biao's response was not verbal. He raised his armored right leg and brought it down.
CRRRUUNNCH.
It wasn't just a stomp. It was a localized earthquake. The reinforced concrete of the plaza buckled and cratered under the mecha-enhanced blow of a Soul Emperor. A visible shockwave of force and dust radiated outwards, causing students and even some teachers to stagger. The very ground seemed to cry out in protest. The message was visceral: due process was a paper shield against his raw power and grief.
The armed men behind him, emboldened, took up the chant again, louder, more aggressive, their weapons held at a ready angle. "HAND OVER THE MURDERERS!"
The situation teetered on a knife's edge. Long Hengxu's face was set in grim lines, calculating the potential for bloodshed. Yao Xuan watched from the shadows of a pillar, Gu Yue a silent, observant statue beside him. He felt no fear, only a cold analysis of the threat vectors. His hand didn't clench; his breathing remained even. He was waiting. Waiting for the broader shoulders to arrive.