On a frigid night, Sharkai Bai stepped alone through the academy gates.
For a fleeting moment, the image of Cecilia Xuelian’s tear-streaked face as she left flashed through his mind.
*(She even sent me that... Apologies mean nothing now.)*
Sharkai Bai sighed numbly inwardly.
But just as quickly, he buried Cecilia Xuelian’s face deep once more.
First things first—head to the Northern Kingdom.
Thud!
Distracted, Bai collided with someone’s shoulder.
A petite girl with chestnut-brown hair stood before him.
“Oh-ho? Where to at this hour, Sharkai Bai?”
Trouble.
Shinji Sanmi—the New Wing Divine Church’s bishop, infamous as the “Magic Tyrant.”
*(Tch. Of all times...)*
Sharkai Bai instinctively stepped back.
“None of your concern.”
He sidestepped her, refusing to waste time on pointless entanglements.
Surprisingly, Shinji Sanmi didn’t block his path.
A stroke of luck for Bai.
Watching the white-haired boy vanish into the night, Shinji Sanmi rubbed his temples with a sigh, then smirked.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Thinking silence hides your secrets? Underestimating the Church’s intel network again? Should I tell that young lady from the Cecilia Family~~?”
Having just finished digging up intel on Sharkai Bai for the Church, Shinji Sanmi was heading back to enjoy the luxury suite reserved for Kami Miraishi at the academy when he stumbled upon the boy slipping out alone.
Every move Sharkai Bai made—his plans, his motives—Shinji Sanmi could deduce flawlessly from Church reports and his own analysis.
“The Ghost Dragon Martial Consortium holds the Northern Kingdom’s deepest coffers... Far too dangerous for a hothead like him.”
Stretching lazily, Shinji Sanmi ambled back into the academy.
“Well, tomorrow’s soon enough to inform that young lady. Tonight, I’ll savor that suite’s bath~”
Dawn broke as Sharkai Bai’s unmarked car rolled onto Northern Kingdom soil.
Just as he stepped out to stretch—
“You. Here of all places, Sharkai Bai.”
A voice called his name from nearby.
*(An enemy?)*
Few in the Northern Kingdom knew him.
Wary, he turned toward the sound. A familiar face.
“Oh? Emperor Feng?”
The speaker was one of the Five Dragon Kings—Emperor Feng, the “Hourglass of Time.”
But his complexion looked far worse than before.
The Five Dragon Kings served the Northern Kingdom’s royal court. Led by Situ Sheng—a prodigy fire mage—their ranks were elite. While loyal to the crown, they took odd jobs across the continent in their spare time, chasing thrills.
After the continent’s great war, however, Situ Sheng vanished without a trace.
Emperor Feng and the others scoured the land. No body. No clues.
Yet hope lingered.
Sharkai Bai and Emperor Feng settled into a corner booth at a newly opened diner.
“Hmph. Long time. What brings you to the Northern Kingdom?”
“The Ghost Dragon Martial Consortium.”
Bai stated his purpose bluntly.
“Ha! You never learn, do you? Always making enemies.”
Emperor Feng cracked open a can of beer, clearly amused by Bai’s recklessness.
Watching him gulp it down, Bai sensed a new maturity beneath the old restlessness.
*Naturally. With Situ Sheng gone, someone had to step up.*
Emperor Feng now filled Situ Sheng’s role—negotiating with cunning lords and scheming factions across the continent.
“You look worn out.”
“Hah! Just refuse to fall short of Situ’s legacy. That’s all.”
They ordered steaks and snacks.
“Heard your academy’s holding its festival. So urgent, this Ghost Dragon Martial business?”
“Urgent? Absolutely. Though... other matters weigh heavier.”
Propping his cheek on his left hand, Bai skewered a chunk of chicken with a bamboo stick and popped it into his mouth.
Emperor Feng slammed his third empty beer can onto the table.
“Since you’re here, a warning.”
Bai’s skewer froze halfway to his lips.
“The Ghost Dragon Martial Consortium dominates the Northern Kingdom’s wealth. Even the royal treasury can’t match them. Don’t stir trouble on their turf.”
His gaze sharpened, locking onto the white-haired boy.
“Understood.”
Bai’s reply was crisp.
Whether he truly heeded the warning remained another matter.
***
Ochinissa City, Northern Kingdom. Inside a castle-like mansion.
The third-floor hall held simple furnishings—each piece worth a fortune.
A middle-aged man sat in a rosewood chair, swirling wine in a glass.
The door opened. A butler-like youth entered.
“Latest report: Sharkai Bai has entered the Northern Kingdom.”
“Oh? That meddling brat dares show his face? Sharksea Clan or not, I won’t let him off lightly.”
The glass shattered in his grip.
The butler hurriedly offered a handkerchief for the wine-stained hand.
Suddenly, three figures materialized before the window.
“Even allies don’t barge into my hall uninvited, Xia Yuan.”
Handing back the soiled cloth, the man glared at the disheveled Xia Yuan and his two cloaked escorts.
“My apologies. I overheard... something intriguing.”
Xia Yuan’s eyes gleamed. He snapped his fingers at the hooded figures.
“As for that Sharkai Bai brat—he’s yours...”
One cloaked figure slowly lowered his hood.
The man jolted to his feet, shock etching his face.
Satisfied by the reaction, Xia Yuan clapped the revealed man on the shoulder.
“Show us your worth, Situ Sheng.”
