Juben was utterly frustrated. He’d been stressing over how to successfully become Yan Yi’s disciple, but Interle’s single remark shattered Yan Yi’s lofty image completely.

“Cheer up, kid. Yan Yi’s really strong,” Interle said, patting the stunned Juben’s shoulder. She understood now—no matter what Luris had done, as long as she meant no harm, Juben would forgive her. No, more accurately, he’d never even hate Luris.

What a troublesome pair. *Just get married already,* Interle sighed inwardly. She had no choice but to trust them; there was nothing she could do here.

She’d even considered drugging him and locking him in a dark room, but after careful analysis, the outcome might backfire. Plus, the prep was too tedious and a waste of breath, so she dropped the idea.

“Well, I’m off to find Luris. Oh, and a friendly heads-up: Yan Yi isn’t in his room. He left ages ago. No need to bow here like a fool.”

Interle figured there was no point making Juben bow meaninglessly anymore. *Brat, remember this—if you weren’t so pitiful, I’d stoke the fire and make you suffer longer.*

Juben froze again. *Gone?* He slowly opened the door. The room was spotless and tidy, but utterly empty.

His eyes swept the space and landed on one spot. The open window said it all.

Juben’s lips twitched. *This isn’t just the wrong way to open it—you swapped the damn thing entirely! At least use a door!*

After Interle left, Yan Yi knew Juben would show up soon. Even if Interle was ruthless, she wouldn’t sabotage him now. She’d probably tell Juben how to force Yan Yi to accept him as a disciple.

Yan Yi actually admired Juben and had considered training him. But every time he thought of “master,” he pictured that old drunkard. Every time he thought of “teacher,” Liette’s “manic” face flashed in his mind. He shuddered, losing all interest in taking disciples.

“Damn it. What nasty trick will Interle cook up to make me say yes?” Yan Yi pondered, steeling himself. *Even if she offers me a maid, I won’t budge.*

Sure enough, Juben soon tracked down Yan Yi through inquiries. Watching the approaching boy, Yan Yi doubled his guard.

But Juben walked over expressionless. When he stood before Yan Yi, his face twisted strangely. He wavered wildly between kowtowing and not. Kowtowing felt like falling into an obvious trap. Not kowtowing felt like missing a golden opportunity.

So frustrating! But to defeat this man, it was the fastest path. Juben gritted his teeth and thrust his hand into his pocket.

Yan Yi’s eyes widened. *Here it comes.* He repeated to himself: *I’m strong-willed. I won’t become like those two!*

Juben pulled out a golden card, intricately decorated. It glinted, momentarily blinding Yan Yi. Juben bowed deeply again, offering the card with both hands.

“P-please take me as your disciple!” The words sounded grudging, teeth clenched. Yan Yi ignored that. He stared at the familiar-sized card. Though he’d guessed what it was, he asked anyway.

“How much?”

Yes—he didn’t ask what it was. He cut straight to the point! Nothing mattered more than this!

Juben froze. His last shred of admiration for Yan Yi’s lofty image vanished. He steadied his hand, fighting the urge to pull back. He was all in now.

“A thousand gold coins.”

Instantly, the card vanished from his grip. So fast he felt nothing else. Yan Yi’s speed alone stunned him.

“Good. You’re my disciple now.” Yan Yi, shameless as ever, pocketed the card and lifted Juben up, already currying favor with this rich kid.

Juben saw his cheap master’s eyes gleaming like gold coins. A chill ran down his spine. Something bad was coming.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you level up to ‘Eleven Books’,” Yan Yi said lightly, patting Juben’s shoulder. Before Juben could speak, Yan Yi vanished. A gust of wind swept the ground clean ahead of him.

Yan Yi reappeared, clapping his hands. He shouted toward Mr. Bai’s direction.

“Mr. Bai! Urgent business—I’m out after finishing the task!”

He grabbed Juben by the collar and vanished again in a blink.

Juben hadn’t processed anything when he found himself at Luris’s front gate. Yan Yi appeared a moment later, holding a whip from who-knows-where.

Juben finally understood. If Yan Yi wanted, he could’ve ended their match instantly. Even his father, who’d entered the Realm of Magic, couldn’t match this speed.

The Realm of Magic had three stages: Demon Summoning, Demon, and Demon Ascension. Only his grandfather, at the Demon stage, might approach this speed. Yan Yi was likely at Demon Ascension!

Such beings could be counted on two hands in the human world.

Juben took a deep breath. *This is who I must surpass.* Bitterness flickered in his heart, but stronger still was… excitement!

No wonder I couldn’t sense his mana. We’re worlds apart. With this strength, at his age—even that Eastern prodigy pales in comparison.

Juben clenched his fists. This might be someone on par with the Five Academy Heads. He hadn’t chosen wrong. His initial plan to just learn techniques flew out the window.

Yan Yi gazed at Juben calmly. His eyes seemed to pierce through everything. Slowly, he spoke.

“Do you know why a master takes disciples?”

*He’s broke?* That was Juben’s first thought. But he stayed smart and silent, shaking his head.

Yan Yi recalled his drunken master. Once, young Yan Yi had asked why he took disciples.

The answer wasn’t about legacy. It was simpler.

“It’s so someone can surpass you. Climb heights you never could. See vistas you’ll never witness.”

Juben’s eyes widened. Yan Yi’s words struck his soul. The pride of a true master ignited a burning desire to grow stronger within him.

“Yes!” His reply was sharp, resolute. Yan Yi smiled faintly. He saw his younger self. Memories flashed. He tilted his head innocently, the whip tapping his left palm.

“Good. Now run with all your might.”

“Huh?” Juben was confused. *This is training?* It didn’t match his expectations at all. But Yan Yi gave no time to hesitate. He appeared behind Juben instantly, whip raised, still smiling.

*Crack—*

Fire seared Juben’s back. He yelped and sprinted instinctively. But it wasn’t over.

Yan Yi calculated Juben’s initial speed after the first strike. Every time Juben slowed below it, the whip cracked again!

“Ah! Ah! I’m running! Ah!”

“Too slow! Faster! Slowing down again!”

The cries echoed. Juben’s earlier excitement vanished. He wept inwardly, cursing Yan Yi. He’d finally realized—he’d gotten a fake master. This guy kept that harmless smile while whipping him effortlessly.

Worst of all, Yan Yi’s strikes caused no real injury but inflicted unbearable pain.

It was a technique Yan Yi invented out of boredom. He could make someone suffer excruciating pain without passing out—perfect for venting frustration.

Yan Yi felt great, whipping at will. He remembered his master’s follow-up words after young Yan Yi showed admiration:

“Of course, tormenting disciples is pure joy! Haha!”

Yan Yi added another smile-filled lash. He agreed—the old man had a point. No, he was absolutely right! He sighed contentedly.

“Taking a disciple really is wonderful…”