“Alright, next up is Yuyi. Step forward for the test,” Stellar Rosa’s voice rang like a clear bell across the training field.

Once Di Yue’er drifted away like a waning moon, Stellar Rosa turned to Yuyi Mengliu, her red kimono blooming like a maple fire.

“Understood,” Yuyi said, her tone calm as still water.

She dipped in a small bow like a fluttering petal, then carried her tachi forward like a streak of dawn steel.

“Yuyi, begin,” Stellar Rosa said, her gaze steady as a mountain ridge.

“Alright.” Her answer landed like a pebble in a quiet pond.

Yuyi’s eyes slid to the hardest boulder present, a dark lump like a sleeping mountain; rumor said it held a thread of starfall iron within.

“I hope my strike reaches Sacred Realm,” she murmured, her breath rising like a warm mist.

With a swift whoosh, she drew her Flame Blade from the scabbard like a flare leaping from tinder, and lifted it high like a torch to the sky.

“Yuyi Style—Foxfire Form, Secret Art: Blazing Sword!” Her shout cut the air like a hawk’s cry.

Above her, a sword tens of meters long unfurled like a comet’s tail, all of it fire, the heat rolling out like noon sun over desert sand.

Sweat beaded and ran from the students like sudden rain, and in moments their uniforms clung like wet leaves after a storm.

“So hot—Cold Gale!” A spell rang out like wind through pines.

“Piercing Frost!” Another voice snapped like ice forming on a stream.

“Yuyi does this every time—Frozen Veil!” A third incantation fell like a curtain of hoarfrost.

They layered ice magic one after another, the air dropping like winter settling over a lake.

“Descend,” Yuyi breathed, her focus sharp as a blade’s edge, sending the fire-forged giant sword down toward the boulder like a falling sun.

Boom!!! The moment fire met stone, light flared like lightning ripping a cloud, and the blast roared like thunder pounding a cliff; I clapped my hands to my ears like a traveler in a squall.

The flaming giant sword broke into sparks like fireflies and vanished into the air like embers snuffed by night.

Minutes slid by, and as the smoke thinned like fog lifting from a valley, the boulder’s scarred face came into view like a cracked shield.

The once solid rock now showed a web of fissures like spider silk on glass; it didn’t split, but the mark of her power was clear as sunrise.

“Not bad, not bad—barely reached Sacred Realm, first tier, in attack and destruction,” Stellar Rosa said, her praise falling like gentle rain.

The rest of the assessment needed no more words; with Yuyi’s strength, her final score was Excellent, shining like a polished medal.

“Mm. That leaves just Amemiya and Hill,” Stellar Rosa said, eyes settling on us like stars finding their place. “Which of you goes first?”

“Hill, you go,” I said after a heartbeat that stretched like a bowstring, because she wore impatience like a sparrow ready to spring; her bright eyes danced toward the stones like lanterns toward festival stalls.

“Okay!” Hill let go of my hand like a released kite, then ran to Stellar Rosa with a skip like a deer on dew.

“Teacher Stellar Rosa, can I smash all the stones?” she chirped, her grin glowing like a crescent sun. “One isn’t enough!”

Her words almost made Stellar Rosa’s clipboard tumble like a leaf in a gust.

Whispers rippled through the students like reeds in a wind.

“Is Hill that strong? Why aim for every stone?” one voice drifted like a puzzled cloud.

“No idea. With that confidence, maybe she’s a Sacred Realm powerhouse,” another murmured like rumor over tea.

“No way! Hill’s such a cute loli—how could she have such power? It doesn’t match the image,” a third fretted like a sparrow startled by thunder.

“Ahem!” Stellar Rosa snapped back to herself like frost cracking underfoot. “Quiet! It’s still class—if you have comments, leave the training ground and talk elsewhere.”

Silence fell like snow, and faces flushed pink like dawn—most here were noble and imperial young ladies, too polished to gossip long.

“Alright. If Hill wants all the stones, then fine—teacher awaits your performance,” Stellar Rosa said, her smile like a lantern lighting the path.

“Of course! That’s just natural,” Hill answered, her certainty bright as a blade’s sheen.

She stepped to the center like a dancer finding the stage, her cute face set with a seriousness like ink on a decree.

“Hah!” Hill drew a deep breath like filling a sail, bent her small legs like coiled springs, and sprang skyward like a lark breaking free.

She did nothing in the air but tighten her two pink fists like peaches clenched by storm, then hammered down with all she had like hail striking a quiet lake.

!!! Her fists met space like knuckles to a calm mirror, and beneath her, fractures spread like spiderwebs racing across ice, faster and faster like wildfire in dry grass.

A pressure rolled out like a tide pulling at the shore; the students buckled under it like reeds, and even I felt breath snag like fish in a net.

“Mm. Hill’s strength is hefty,” Xinuo said, voice smooth as moonlight on water.

“Strength… can Hill, in this small-loli form, break space with brute force?” I blurted, shock widening my eyes like lanterns in a storm; it felt too much, like thunder trying to shake the sky.

The training ground’s space seemed on the verge of shattering like glass under a hammer; if not for the alchemical array, a net of runes woven like constellations, the place would’ve collapsed like a shed in a gale.

“What’s so shocking?” Xinuo turned to me, her head shake light as falling petals. “The Dragon Kin have the greatest strength in this world, like mountains bound in flesh. Hill carries Emperor blood among the Dragon Kin, a crown within crowns. And she herself stands at the Holy Peak.”

“That makes sense.” I nodded, the motion small as a pebble nudged by streamflow, realizing I’d let ranks and realms blur like ink in rain because Xinuo was near.

In my heart, as long as Xinuo was there, storms felt like summer showers; my eyes kept returning to her like swallows to a eave, and I rarely looked elsewhere.

“This can’t go on,” the thought rose like smoke from a spark. “I can’t spend my whole life hiding behind Xiao Nuo.”

On the Eastern Moon Continent, trouble found us like crows find carrion; big and small storms rolled through like seasons.

The big ones fell to Xinuo or Hill like lightning caught by dragons; even Sacred Realm mages were swept aside like leaves in a torrent.

I only handled the small stuff, trading blows with minor figures like Fangolde or Intela, sparring with shadows in alley light.

Even then, against those small fish, I had to pour out everything like a dry well giving its last water, winning by a hair like thread over blade.

If I faced a Sacred Realm mage, I’d be finished in a heartbeat like a candle in a gust; at best I’d last a few moves like foam on a wave.

I finally understood why I never got a chance to fight one—it wasn’t chance, it was that I lacked the right to step onto that stage, like a passerby barred from a palace gate.

That makes me not so different from those idle noble sons—swagger against the weak like roosters in a yard, and when power looms, let the bodyguards handle it while I watch like a guest.

No wonder my strength stagnated like a pond in summer; no wonder Sword Intent never formed like a blade’s spirit in fog.

Without tasting the edge of life and death like walking a cliff in midnight wind, how could strength surge like river in flood? How could will temper to a Sword Intent like steel drawn white-hot?

My talent isn’t bad, but if I keep hiding behind Xinuo, a so-called genius will dull to mediocrity like a bright blade left to rust.

That thought opened my view like clouds torn to show the sky; I saw more, wider, like a hawk circling a new height.

“Servant, looks like you’ve figured it out,” Xinuo said, her smile soft as spring sun, with a hint of relief like dew on morning grass.

“Yeah. I have to grind my strength from now on,” I said, lifting my chin like a sapling reaching light. “I can’t hide behind you forever, Xiao Nuo.”

I looked up to the blue sky like a deep lake, and a quiet laugh spilled out like a ripple in clear water.

“That goes without saying,” she answered, her certainty steady as a mountain line.