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“You lowly adventurers—how dare you speak like that?!”

A short distance behind the adventurers stood roughly ten soldiers alongside their client, Prince Zhu Bajie.

Reacting to the adventurers’ blatant disrespect toward royalty, the prince’s guards drew their swords with clear displeasure.

To these sycophants, anyone who insulted their master deserved immediate punishment.

After all, a true lapdog knows no bounds—if you don’t seize the perfect moment to prove loyalty, what even is the point?

“Huh?! What do you mean, ‘how we speak’?” The adventurers tsked dismissively at the soldiers’ bluster. “We’re just stating facts. His ‘Highness’ is literally the weakest, most powerless prince around. What do you want us to say? Go lick his boots?”

“Exactly~! Hahaha!”

Not a shred of reverence for royalty.

Even after being called out, they openly mocked the prince to his face.

Shielded by his guards, the aptly nicknamed Prince Zhu Bajie gritted his teeth, seething with helpless rage.

“These lowlifes… damn it…” he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue in frustration.

Just as the adventurers said—he held no real power, which was precisely why he was treated with such contempt.

The black sheep of the royal family, he’d schemed to capture a Dragonkin child and claim credit for slaying the Silverfrost Dragon Queen to climb the ranks. He’d committed every soldier under his command, even risked losing his royal title by signing a traitorous pact with a certain perennial rival who hated the Silverfrost Dragon Queen—trading imperial secrets for two Arcane Cannons.

Who could’ve guessed the outcome? Only these few fools remained; the rest were wiped out.

Poor Prince Zhu Bajie.

He’d sacrificed his entire force believing the deal was sealed—Silverfrost Dragon Queen dead, mission accomplished.

Then this morning, while rendezvousing with Lisdel’s troops, he learned the truth: the Silverfrost Dragon Queen still lived, deep within the ruins.

The news nearly choked him to death.

And so, after all that, here they were—forced to hire adventurers to clean up his mess.

“Enough. Sheathe your swords,” Prince Zhu Bajie ordered, swallowing his irritation as he waved off his remaining lapdogs.

“But, Your Highness, they—”

“I said sheathe your swords! Are you deaf?!”

“Y-yes… right away…”

Chastened by their master’s roar, the soldiers hastily retreated without a word.

He knew it well: these high-tier adventurers were all he had left. If he kept up the royal arrogance, they’d walk out in a heartbeat.

His own strength? Mid-tier at best—a hollow rank scraped together with potions. In raw skill or stamina, he wouldn’t even match a true low-tier fighter. Without these capable allies, facing the Dragon Sovereign—even weakened—would mean being ground into dust.

Thus, amid the adventurers’ relentless taunts, the group pressed onward into the ruins’ depths.

There, surrounded by monster corpses, they found Cang Xiaoxi resting on the ground.

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Let’s rewind slightly.

Raw power without skill is just hollow pretense.

That’s why so many bookworms thrive today—masters of theory, useless in practice.

Not so with our protagonist, Cang Xiaoxi. How else could he skip school constantly yet still rank at the top?

True mastery lies in understanding knowledge deeply and applying it wisely—grasping the essence, not just memorizing words.

Which was precisely why Jikuhir now wore a meme-worthy expression of utter shock: *“My friends and I are absolutely stunned.”*

“Well, that’s about it,” Cang Xiaoxi murmured, glancing at the charred remains of several monsters—mid-tier, high-tier, all reduced to ash.

He’d finally gauged this world’s power scale.

Turns out last night’s “Husky” monster was absurdly overleveled—a literal final boss on day one.

Now that he’d handled the big boss? These low-tier minions were barely worth noticing.

“Hah. Fire magic up to Transcendent Tier… pretty much mastered.” A faint smile touched his lips as flames danced effortlessly across his palm. “Time to rely on you again, Dragon Sovereign.”

He turned to the speechless Dragon Sovereign, already eager to tackle the next elements.

“Wait—just wait a sec!” Jikuhir raised a hand to stop him, the other pressed to her forehead. “Let me catch my breath! Just a moment… then we continue.”

She took two sharp, deep breaths. Then, cheeks slightly puffed, the little girl’s exaggerated shock-face returned.

“ARE YOU CHEATING?! Even with Boundless Realm power, this speed is insane! Two hours! From beginner to Transcendent Tier on one element?! Those incantations are wildly complex—how are you memorizing them this fast?!”

“Hah… hah… hah…” Panting heavily after her rant, Jikuhir slumped, utterly winded.

Cang Xiaoxi had never seen the little girl so drained.

“You okay?” he asked, scratching his tingling ear. “Need water?”

“Water—NO! EXPLAIN! NOW! Did you hear me? EXPLAIN!”

“Yeah, yeah, got it.” He shot her a sideways glance. “It’s not that I’m slow. Your memory’s just… not great.”

“WHO are you calling a kid with bad memory?! I’m an adult! A grown-up over two hundred years your senior!”

“Sure, sure—oh mighty, grown-up Dragon Sovereign~.”

Not wasting another second on her tantrum, Cang Xiaoxi stripped useful materials from the fallen monsters while explaining.

“It’s not about memory. It’s understanding the incantation’s meaning and visualizing the magic itself—like why fire burns. You wouldn’t get it. Back in my world, we have frameworks that accelerate learning.”

Magic required mana control, precise incantations, and vivid mental imagery. Anyone with basic science sense would grasp it. That was his edge.

“Ahhh! You mastered it faster than me—and better?! How am I supposed to keep face as your wife AND teacher?!”

Thanks to their shared memories, Jikuhir understood the gist. But so what? In under half a day, the student had nearly surpassed the teacher. Anyone would crumble. Defeated, she slumped aside, drawing circles in the dirt.

Cang Xiaoxi sighed, setting down scale-like materials. “Must you be this down? You still have so much to teach me.”

“So much? You mean…”

Jikuhir’s eyes widened, surprised he’d spoken up.

“Of course!” he added gently. “This world’s language, culture, history, geopolitics—mountains of knowledge. Didn’t we agree this morning? You’d stay and teach me while we travel.”

As an accidental outsider, Cang Xiaoxi needed far more than combat skills. And Jikuhir, a being of immense stature, was the perfect guide.

He’d originally planned fair compensation. But… well. Everyone knows Jikuhir’s mindset.

“Supporting one’s husband and raising the child—that’s a wife’s duty! Don’t worry—I’ll raise Xiao Xi into a capable ‘adult’!”

Hence: monster-slaying magic drills in the ruins.

“Right! Right! I still have so much to teach Xiao Xi!” Re-energized, Jikuhir sprang up. “Let’s continue our joyful learning journey, student Xiao Xi!”

“Sure~.”

What an easily placated little loli.

Cang Xiaoxi shook his head with quiet exasperation.

*Kind-hearted boy comforting a girl?* Please.

His reassurance was pure self-preservation. If he didn’t keep this self-proclaimed “wife” content, who knew what chaos would follow? Like this morning—walking in on her “cooking,” wrong ingredients, nearly sending him to the afterlife. If he didn’t know she was just an airheaded little girl, he’d suspect poisoning.

Three more hours of practice passed. Drawn by Jikuhir’s rising energy, monsters kept swarming. Finally, Cang Xiaoxi collapsed, utterly spent.

“You’ve worked hard.” Kneeling beside him, Jikuhir dabbed sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “We’ve practiced every tier—except above Transcendent. You truly gave it your all.”