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Chapter 11 — Invitation
“Stop!”
Murong Yue snapped his head around in shock. “Su Cheng, you can’t do this!”
Su Cheng stood off to the side with her arms folded. “I’m not the one doing anything.”
“You can control it!” Murong Yue said sharply. “Don’t think I don’t know how your kind of power works. If you don’t activate that kind of—”
“Aaaahhhhhhh!”
The junior student let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Her flesh began to peel away in trembling sheets, falling off her body like rain. In moments, she was reduced to a horrifying, blood-soaked figure—limbs already exposing pale, splintered bone.
“I’ll pay! I’ll compensate you!” she cried desperately. “Name your price—I’ll give you anything!”
“Stop it!” Murong Yue barked again. “I haven’t explained everything clearly yet—”
Su Cheng paused.
If her suspicion was already confirmed, then killing this person brought her no benefit. Taking money and letting her live would’ve been far more reasonable.
And yet—
She tried to halt it.
But nothing stopped.
The process continued without mercy.
The junior student collapsed into a pool of blood, screaming as she hit the ground.
Her entire body was now drenched in red, fragments of torn flesh scattered everywhere. Her limbs were nearly skeletal, the sight unbearably grotesque.
“You—!” Murong Yue’s face twisted in rage and disbelief. “Why would you do something like this?!”
Su Cheng frowned at him.
At that moment, she finally understood—crystal clear—why people feared the blessed of the gods.
“Enough,” she said quietly. “When she tore up the ‘contract’, what were you doing?”
Murong Yue took a deep breath. “The moment you took it out, I already knew it wasn’t a contract!”
He had read it himself and signed it—he knew exactly what it looked like.
Su Cheng gave a cold laugh. “So it wasn’t a contract, and that means you can just snatch it and rip it apart? You’re stronger than her, faster than her. If you’d stopped her, none of this would’ve happened. Why don’t you reflect on that?”
Her voice sharpened.
“You knew I wasn’t someone to mess with. Why didn’t you warn her earlier? The contract clearly stated everything had to be fully disclosed—why didn’t you say that? Or were you too embarrassed? You value your pride more than someone else’s life. You’re beyond help.”
Murong Yue’s expression darkened. “I did tell her about the engagement cancellation, and I told them not to—”
“She didn’t know about the contract!” Su Cheng cut in. “She didn’t know about compensation! Don’t try to twist this!”
The students from South River Academy stood frozen, stunned into silence. A few opened their mouths to speak, but the blood and bone on the ground made them swallow their words.
Most of them had wanted to curry favor with Murong Yue. Some had even tried to mock her earlier. Now, they were only grateful they hadn’t said more.
This wasn’t ordinary elemental magic.
Even for people who had seen death before—or dealt death themselves—this scene was something else entirely. Strange. Unsettling. Almost unreal.
Su Cheng turned away.
The atmosphere here was suffocatingly tense, yet the guild hall around them remained chaotic.
Too many people were packed inside. Most couldn’t see what was happening, only catching the thick scent of blood drifting through the air.
“What’s going on?!”
“Someone died?!”
Mercenaries were used to violence—deaths weren’t rare in their line of work. But most still restrained themselves within guild grounds.
Above the stairs, a railing was packed with onlookers peering down, whispering among themselves.
“A curse user? Something like that? It feels like a trigger condition…”
“Could be arcane magic. That tearing effect looked spatial…”
“But there’s no mana fluctuation…”
Their gazes all drifted toward Su Cheng, trying to figure out what she had done.
No one mentioned the gods’ blessed ones.
There were too few of them in the world. Most people wouldn’t even think of it.
And with so many voices overlapping in the hall, almost no one had heard what was actually said between her and the victim.
Su Cheng glanced up toward the second-floor corridor—and noticed familiar faces.
A silver-haired young man leaned casually against the railing, holding a crimson drink, watching with an amused smile. When their eyes met, he even winked at her.
She tilted her head slightly.
Nearby, she also spotted Camus standing at the corridor entrance.
People moved back and forth, occasionally blocking him from view. Beneath the shadow of his hat, his dark blue eyes glinted coldly.
He met her gaze briefly—then turned away.
It almost looked like he’d only come to confirm she was still alive.
Su Cheng: “……”
By now, two students from South River Academy had already left with the unfortunate victim—alive or dead, it was hard to tell—leaving only a large pool of blood behind.
Suddenly, another commotion erupted.
A group descended from another staircase, and nearby mercenaries immediately stepped aside.
They wore ornate battle armor, each piece refined and imposing, all carrying the unmistakable scent of hardened warriors.
On their chest plates was a winged emblem.
—The insignia of the Silverwing Mercenary Corps.
At the front stood a tall, striking young man with silver curls tied into a loose braid. Strands of pale blue highlights threaded through his hair like drifting glacial waves.
His skin was pale and luminous, and his ears were slightly pointed.
The entire hall fell silent.
The appearance of an S-rank mercenary group drew everyone’s attention instantly.
“…Xiao Lan!”
One of Murong Yue’s classmates exclaimed.
So this was the person South River Academy had been trying to recruit.
Xiao Lan walked forward unhurriedly, the crowd parting before him like a tide.
Murong Yue forced himself to speak. “Lord Xiao Lan—”
A low murmur spread through the hall.
The title “Lord” was not given lightly.
It was reserved either for nobles with official titles, or for those at least sixth-tier in strength—Great Mages or Grand Warriors.
Sometimes high-ranking clergy were addressed that way too.
And occasionally—blessed ones of the gods, though those were even rarer.
“Enough.”
Xiao Lan raised a hand, cutting him off.
His voice was gentle, almost pleasant. “Bullying the weak is truly distasteful. Your academy’s conduct speaks for itself. I originally arranged to meet you here, but I apologize—it seems there is nothing left to discuss.”
Murong Yue’s eyes turned cold. “Do you truly believe she is weak?”
“She is not,” Xiao Lan said lightly. “But your student assumed she was and tried to humiliate her. Because that assumption was wrong, she suffered the consequences. But if she had truly been weak, would she simply have to endure it?”
He shook his head slightly.
“It seems your academy selects students based only on talent and background, not character. We have nothing further to say.”
The students’ faces turned ugly, but no one could refute him.
Xiao Lan turned away from them entirely and inclined his head toward Su Cheng.
“Good day, miss.”
“Good day, Grand Warrior,” Su Cheng replied politely. “I must say, you made a wise decision.”
Xiao Lan studied her thoughtfully. “And you? Which academy will you choose for your future training?”
Su Cheng blinked. “Huh?”
He looked around their age, maybe even younger at first glance—but there was a quiet maturity in him that didn’t match his face.
“Honestly,” she said, “I haven’t decided. I might not join any academy.”
Murong Yue, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes slightly.
Xiao Lan nodded as if considering that. “I see.”
Then he added seriously, “If your decision changes, please inform me. I believe your judgment would be valuable.”
Su Cheng was slightly taken aback.
“You see, I don’t have many human acquaintances,” Xiao Lan continued calmly. “Even fewer people my age. I thought speaking with them might be enlightening.”
He glanced at Murong Yue and the others.
“…It seems I was mistaken.”
Su Cheng paused. “So you still plan to attend an academy?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’ve never experienced school life. I’ve been told it is a necessary experience.”
Su Cheng understood.
“If I end up choosing somewhere, I’ll have someone notify you,” she said casually. “Your group always has people stationed here, right?”
“Correct. I would appreciate it.”
Xiao Lan added, “May I ask—you just registered as a mercenary?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a team in mind?”
Su Cheng tilted her head. “If I say no, would you recruit me?”
He smiled faintly. “If I said yes, would you accept?”
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.
Even Murong Yue’s group froze.
Su Cheng glanced aside—
At the wall near the mission board stood the Black Flame mercenary captain, watching quietly.
Kai was tall and broad-shouldered, impossible to miss even among the crowd. Their eyes met across the distance.
He looked completely calm.
Almost… pleased.
Like he was genuinely happy for her.
The South River Academy students were utterly stunned.
“Given her age, she’d at least need to be a mid-tier mage or battle commander to qualify for their combat ranks—and even then it requires approval!”
“And approval isn’t guaranteed!”
Xiao Lan responded calmly, “That is true. But exceptions exist. And some rules are simply meant to filter out the unqualified.”
The man who spoke turned red with frustration.
Murong Yue sighed internally.
Whatever exceptions existed, someone like her—especially a blessed one—would inevitably be one of them.
Xiao Lan had likely already guessed it.
“…No, thank you,” Su Cheng said suddenly. “Your organization has too many rules. Regular missions, obligations—I already promised someone else.”
Xiao Lan blinked.
Even his subordinates looked surprised.
“No worries,” he said finally, smiling. “I look forward to meeting you again.”
He bowed politely.
Su Cheng quickly returned the gesture.
Then Xiao Lan left without another word.
Su Cheng ignored the rest of them and pushed through the crowd, finding the silent captain who had been watching everything.
Mercenaries nearby stared as she grabbed his arm, but no one intervened.
“Let’s go,” she said, looking up.
Her hand barely wrapped around his wrist.
Kai didn’t resist. He simply let her pull him along.
They exited through the side door and stepped into the street.
Once outside, she released him.
“Sorry for all that. I didn’t expect things to get so messy and waste your time.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” the captain said quietly, looking down at her. “You seem troubled.”
Su Cheng exhaled.
Godly power couldn’t be fully controlled. Once used, no one could predict what would follow.
But that wasn’t all she was thinking about.
“I’m calculating my chances of winning a lawsuit,” she said abruptly. “He clearly didn’t disclose the full contract terms. He only mentioned the engagement cancellation and told her not to mock me—but given his personality, they probably interpreted it as arrogance. And with Murong family status, few people would dare use truth magic on him in court. The witness is dead, so there’s no proof. And I forgot to set a time limit for disclosure, so he could argue he was about to explain everything before she died—ugh, I’m so bad at this!”
She stopped abruptly.
Realizing she probably sounded unhinged.
Or like a greedy lunatic.
But the man beside her remained perfectly calm, as if he hadn’t heard anything strange at all.
After a moment, he spoke.
“I haven’t read the contract, but if he selectively disclosed it, and truth magic can’t be used on him, then are you sure every person around him is untouchable in court?”
Su Cheng: “……”
He was actually listening. And understanding.
“And if you need it,” he added after thinking, “I can testify. When that Murong man entered, he wasn’t speaking with anyone around him.”
Su Cheng: “???”
For a moment, she felt an absurd sense of… meeting the right person too late.
Like she could happily swear brotherhood with him on the spot.
