Suddenly, seven or eight male students blocked Yan Lingxuan’s path ahead, while several more emerged behind him—trapped from both sides.

Squinting slightly, Yan Lingxuan adopted a stern expression as he swiftly scanned his encirclers. Truth was, he’d noticed their surveillance since the cafeteria but hadn’t intervened, unsure of their target or motives.

*So I’m their target.*

Sixteen male students in total. Some were the same watchers from the cafeteria. All wore identical uniforms, differentiated only by tie colors—blue, green, and yellow—each shade marking their magical proficiency tier. At Valhalla Academy, academic courses mirrored ordinary schools, but magic training followed seven ranked tiers, color-coded like the rainbow: red (lowest) to violet (highest).

“This spot’s too exposed. Follow us,” ordered the blue-tied leader—the highest-ranked among them. He strode toward a tree-shaded area beyond the classroom building.

Yan Lingxuan followed boldly, unfazed. The other fifteen pressed close around him, front and back, as if fearing his escape.

They halted at a secluded spot far from campus buildings. The blue-tied leader turned.

“Why bring me here?” Yan Lingxuan drawled, scratching his head with bored, sleepy eyes.

“Confident, aren’t you? Not scared being surrounded?”

*Classic trash-talk*, Yan Lingxuan thought. *Talkers rarely fight—but push too hard, and they snap.*

Sixteen against one. He wasn’t one to seek trouble. His tone shifted, meek now:

“I’m scared now. What do you want? I just transferred today—I haven’t offended anyone.” (*He’d already forgotten offending that short guy.*)

“Do you know who we are?” The leader dodged the question.

“Who? No idea.”

A pimply-faced boy blurted: “We’re from the Witch Support Club!”

“The Witch Support Club?”

“Bai Lingyue’s fan club.”

*“Huh?”*

The answer surprised him—but considering his sister’s peerless, otherworldly beauty, fans in Zhonghua Region or Valhalla Academy made sense.

“So what’s your relationship with Bai Lingyue? How dare you share lunch with our sacred Witch? We’re so jealous we could gut you! Confess!”

“Report, President! Intel says he walked to school with Bai Lingyue this morning!”

Sensing lethal intent in their stares, Yan Lingxuan rushed to clarify:

“She’s my sister.”

“Spit it out—what’s your relation to Bai Lingyue? Wait… *sister*?”

Seeing their stunned faces, he elaborated patiently.

“Hah! So you’re her brother! My apologies—total misunderstanding! Please don’t take it to heart!”

Carol Gandolf—blue-tied, Russian, hairy with a musky scent—embraced Yan Lingxuan warmly. (*Probably jerks off nightly.*)

“Who’s your brother? Get off! I hate being touched by men.”

Being called “brother” by someone older-looking was nauseating. Carol, an early-maturing foreigner, seemed like a twenty-something.

Their suddenly friendly gazes gave Yan Lingxuan the feeling of a lamb surrounded by wolves. *Somehow more dangerous than before?*

“No wonder I sensed such noble aura when I first met Brother Yan—he’s Lingyue-sama’s twin!”

“Yeah! Now I see it—they look damn identical!”

“Handsome brother, gorgeous sister… I’d love to meet your parents!”

Their sycophantic grins, desperate to cozy up to Lingyue’s brother, looked ghostly unsettling.

“Call me ‘brother’ again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Heard that? *Brother* said he’ll kill anyone who says ‘brother’!”

A vein throbbed on Yan Lingxuan’s temple. *This bastard’s mocking me.* He snapped his fingers toward a nearby elm tree.

*Pop.*

A harmless sound—but a 60cm-wide trunk now had a gaping hole. With a rustle, the ten-meter-tall tree toppled.

The magic wasn’t strong, but its unpredictability stunned even Carol, a Tier-5 mage. *Definitely high-tier magic.*

Seeing their shocked faces, Yan Lingxuan smirked inwardly.

“How many members in your club? Who’s president?” He sat coldly on the fallen trunk.

“I am. 1,569 official members.” Carol puffed his chest.

*Valhalla’s high school had 4,950 students total. One-third were in this club?*

*Holy shit—could a riot even be contained?*

“You’re wasting time and youth. So many rivals chasing one girl? Brothers, turn back! Look at all the beautiful girls at Valhalla—why fixate on one flower? Step back, and the sea and sky open wide. Wake up!” Yan Lingxuan preached mournfully.

*So many perverts eyeing Lingyue… gotta dismantle this club.* But his words backfired. Sixteen pairs of eyes stared at him like he was an idiot.

“Are you stupid? Idols are meant to be admired, not defiled!”

“We know Bai Lingyue’s an unattainable flower—that’s why she won’t betray us!”

“Exactly! Our creed is silently watching our goddess from afar!”

Yan Lingxuan was defeated. *Such lofty ideals…* But he couldn’t let them ogle Lingyue. If disbanding failed, he’d absorb them.

“Fine. I respect your noble ideals…”

Carol and the others were deeply moved by the goddess’s brother’s understanding.

“…So I’ll be your new president.”

“Impossible! Even as Bai Lingyue’s brother, you can’t have my position—maybe an honorary seat.”

*Expected that.* Yan Lingxuan pulled a pair of blue-and-white ankle socks from his pocket.

“These are Lingyue’s worn socks.”

*Boom!*

Their brains short-circuited. *Lingyue’s worn socks? A treasure!*

“Make me president, and they’re yours.” He waved the socks like tempting a puppy.

“Deal!”

“Transaction complete.”

Carol examined the socks reverently—*yes, Bai Lingyue’s blue-and-white pair from last Wednesday.* He missed Yan Lingxuan’s sly smirk.

“As new president, I appoint Carol as vice-president.”

Demoted but sock-rich, Carol nodded contentedly.

“What about the current vice-president?”

“Demoted to deputy vice-president.”

The other fifteen watched Carol with burning envy.

*Would I really give away my sister’s socks?* Of course not. The socks *were* Bai Lingyue’s—but after Yan Lingxuan slept in them last night, their “ownership” had… changed.

Watching Carol sniff the socks, Yan Lingxuan mentally chuckled.

“As vice-president, I must warn you: Valhalla’s surveillance system is flawless. Destroy campus property with magic, and the Student Council arrives within ten minutes. We’re leaving.”

“So *you* felled the elm with magic?”

A blonde girl materialized before Yan Lingxuan the moment the sixteen departed. Her cold gaze held disdain.

True—he alone sat calmly on the fallen trunk.

Her uniform matched others’, but a unique armband adorned her left shoulder: a decagram and crescent moon. Yet Yan Lingxuan’s eyes lingered lower—on her slender legs clad in ankle socks.

*Black thigh-highs would suit her better.* (Stop obsessing over your fetishes!)