“Senior Gao, Luo Qingchuan is also in the Pathseeker Class. How could you forget?”
A soft, melodic voice carried icy resolve.
Su Yingsnow—breathtakingly beautiful, her figure delicate—sat quietly behind her desk.
Like a celestial being descended to dust, her beauty felt ethereal, untouched by mortal cares.
Yet her refined face was taut; a chill lingered in her ink-painted brows and eyes.
As if phantom sword qi silently sliced the air around her.
Tension thickened for no clear reason.
Outside, autumn wind pressed against the high windowpane. Inside the cozy literature club, a cold draft seemed to stir.
Gao Rongrong had always disliked only two kinds of girls:
those prettier than her, and those smarter.
Su Yingsnow seemed to embody both.
Gao Rongrong listlessly twirled her trendy wavy hair, lashes fluttering. Her lightly made-up face stayed composed—she fought to keep her emotions steady.
“No need to be angry, Su,” Gao Rongrong said, lips curving confidently. “I just slipped up. No big deal, really.”
She waved a hand. “I’ll add him to the group later. He’s in Class 5, right? Barely shows up to school anyway.”
Fair-skinned, with long slender legs, Su Yingsnow rose slowly and walked to the window—as if waiting for someone.
Poised yet distant, she murmured, “Am I angry?”
“You look… like a little bitch whose food’s about to be stolen,” Gao Rongrong giggled behind her hand. “So fierce.”
Su Yingsnow froze.
She pressed her lips tight and fell silent.
Seeing this, Gao Rongrong’s smirk widened. *She’s cracked.*
“Seriously? You think I’d scheme over Luo Qingchuan?”
“Or… scared your little boyfriend isn’t loyal? That he’d crawl to me with one wink?”
She stretched lazily, snow-white arms arching upward. “Sweetie, use your head.”
“Hm?”
“Luo Qingchuan? A playboy. Underclassman, if you give yourself away so easily, he’ll use you up and toss you. Or invite his buddies to take turns with you in bed.”
Merciless words spilled out. Gao Rongrong crossed her legs, smiling sweetly:
“A playboy and a good-for-nothing childhood friend? Su, your taste in men needs work. Let me introduce some vetted guys—pick any. Guaranteed solid.”
Su Yingsnow glanced at her, expression flat.
“Done talking? Then leave. Don’t forget to add Luo Qingchuan.”
Everyone in that group would become the first cultivators of the new era after the Spiritual Energy Revival.
Being left out meant isolation.
Su Yingsnow’s heart ached imagining her child standing alone, pitiful in a strange kindergarten corner.
No one to discuss cultivation with. Stumbling upon a sealed Mystic Realm. Facing a perilous treasure site—alone.
Gao Rongrong paused.
Silent, she lifted her leg and strode toward the door.
Then halted.
She glanced back at the black-haired girl by the window, head bowed, gaze fixed below.
“Heard you’re from a sword cultivator family?”
Su Yingsnow didn’t turn. “What family? My parents are ordinary folks who can’t cultivate. They work dawn to dusk. Only during the Revival did an old booklet at home begin to glow.”
Gao Rongrong narrowed her eyes. “My ex taught me his family’s inheritance.”
Su Yingsnow said nothing.
Gao Rongrong smiled. “Let’s test it? They say I’m gifted—Qi Refining second layer in eight months.”
Her right hand flicked. Pale spiritual energy surged forward like a pouncing tiger toward Su Yingsnow.
*It’s only the second floor. She’ll be fine. She must’ve drawn energy already.*
Gao Rongrong told herself: *Just teaching that aloof act a lesson.*
Thud—
A phantom sword wind flashed—shattering the palm strike mid-air.
The air turned razor-sharp around Gao Rongrong. Strands of her wavy hair drifted down, cleanly severed.
Ice-cold sting grazed her neck—as if a shard of iron from deep snow pressed against her throat.
She touched it. Nothing there.
Never having faced a true cultivator, Gao Rongrong instantly grasped Su Yingsnow’s power.
*One thought. That’s all it would take to end me.*
Su Yingsnow remained still, as if lost in reflection—the sword wind utterly unrelated to her.
She was waiting.
Just the thought of *him* arriving soon made the corner of her rosy lips lift—a faint, pure smile.
Moments ago, that same sword aura could’ve killed with a hair’s deviation. Yet she seemed utterly indifferent.
As if the senior before her no longer existed.
Gao Rongrong fled, legs trembling, terror hidden deep in her eyes.
Outside, in the corridor, she pulled out her phone.
Jaw tight, she smirked coldly and opened a class group chat.
... ... ...
Luo Qingchuan crossed Silver City No.1 High’s playground, heading for Su Yingsnow, when his phone buzzed.
Invited to Silver City High’s Pathseeker Class main group.
Of 2,000+ students, only 37 possessed spiritual roots.
Now—the chat exploded.
Immortal Li: “LOOK! Goddess Su posted on socials!”
Replies flooded in. Mostly guys.
Life’s Only Love: KFC: “Real? Selfie?!”
Luo Shui Tianyi: “Fake. How’d he see her feed?”
Ge Heluosi: “Saw it too—circulating in school group. Screenshot?”
I’m an Artist: “*crying* *crying* *crying* Goddess is taken waaah…”
Let’s Roll: “Tsk. Back to swords. I use left hand—y’all?”
Luo Shui Tianyi: “Here’s some cultivation sword manuals!”
NSFW pic.
NSFW pic.
NSFW pic.
Luo Qingchuan: …
Luo Qingchuan: Saved.
He chuckled. Almost believed those were real manuals.
*Group members are saints. Sharing treasures freely—way better than manuals!*
Luo Qingchuan: “New here. Dropping a red packet. Please look after me.”
He tapped an amount.
Luo Shui Tianyi: “Ooh, newbie!”
Let’s Roll: “HOLY—so much?!”
Life’s Only Love: KFC: “Big bro! I’m yours! Like chubby guys?”
Ge Heluosi: “Boss generous! Boss awesome! Single?!”
Immortal Li: “Accepting red packets—pure joy.”
... ... ...
“Zuo Tian, check this.”
In Class 2, Grade 9’s corner, a black-haired youth napping at his desk was shaken awake.
Tall, strikingly handsome.
Elegant bearing, yet eyes half-lidded, drowsy, radiating lazy ease.
Slightly messy bangs framed his face as he murmured:
“What’s up? So worked up—what happened?”
He smiled faintly at his friend.
Yang Jin—burly, also Pathseeker Class—leaned in.
“Campus goddess Su’s taken! Tell me—it’s you, right?”
“Hm?”
Zuo Tian—the Son of Fortune, the Heaven-ordained Protagonist.
The handsome youth kept smiling faintly.
“Might be… possibly… perhaps…”
