The Rose Hotel exuded a quiet, sultry warmth as night wrapped its velvet arms around the city. On the silken sheets of a room awash in amber lamplight, Xiao Wu nestled into Qian Yu's chest, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She pouted, half teasing, half embarrassed.
"Hmph... Brother Qian Yu, you said you'd be gentle..." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, laced with mischief and drowsy affection.
Qian Yu smiled, brushing his lips across her forehead with a tenderness that lingered like a breeze.
"Sleep now," he murmured softly.
"Mhm..." she breathed, nodding as her eyes fluttered shut. Within moments, the rise and fall of her breathing grew steady in his arms, and the world seemed to slow.
But peace, it seemed, never lingered long in his world.
A ripple of pressure stirred the air—two distinct, formidable presences were drawing closer, each one heavy with intent. Qian Yu's gaze turned toward the dark horizon, calm but alert.
"So... trouble finds me quicker than I expected."
Carefully, he extricated himself from Xiao Wu's embrace and rose, his motions quiet so as not to disturb her sleep. Slipping into his robes, he stepped out into the night, the ornate doors of the Rose Hotel closing softly behind him.
The courtyard outside was bathed in moonlight. As he stepped forward, a dark silhouette descended from above with startling speed, landing in front of him without a sound.
"Elder," the figure said, his voice steady, "two Spirit Saints are approaching. Shall I handle them?"
The man was none other than Xuan Yi, a titled Douluo assigned to guard Qian Yu from the shadows.
Qian Yu raised a hand casually. "No need. They're guests, after all. I'll greet them myself."
Xuan Yi nodded without protest and faded into the night once more, vanishing like mist.
Qian Yu remained still, his robes billowing slightly in the wind, his eyes turned toward the distance as the pressure intensified.
Then—boom.
A deafening crash tore through the quiet.
Bang!
A massive figure slammed into the courtyard with such force that the stone beneath his feet shattered, sending chips of granite flying. The earth trembled beneath the sheer impact of his arrival.
"Qian Yu! Get out here now!" the man bellowed, his voice like a thunderclap. It rolled through the streets of Nuoding City, jarring the townspeople awake.
Lights flickered on. Lanterns swayed. Curtains parted. One by one, curious onlookers emerged from their homes, drawn toward the hotel like moths to a flame.
"Who is that guy?!"
"You don't recognize him? That's Zhao Wuji, a teacher from Shrek Academy. They say his martial spirit is the Vajra Bear—some call him the Immovable King!"
"Wait, isn't he here because of what happened to Dai Mubai?"
"Yeah, rumor has it that Qian Yu castrated Dai Mubai earlier today. If that's true, there's no way Shrek Academy's just going to let that slide."
"He's a Spirit Saint... Qian Yu might've messed with the wrong guy."
Chatter spread like wildfire.
Towering before the Rose Hotel stood a mountain of a man—broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and seething with fury. Zhao Wuji killing intent radiated from him like waves of heat.
"Qian Yu, if you don't come out right now, I'll tear this place down brick by brick!" he roared.
From the shadows, a figure in white stepped calmly into the light.
Each step he took echoed across the courtyard, measured and unhurried. His long silver-white hair swayed gently with the breeze, catching the glow of lanterns like strands of moonlight. His eyes—deep, dark, mesmerizing—carried a gravity that pulled attention like stars in orbit.
He stopped just short of Zhao Wuji, looking up at the towering man without a hint of fear.
"You're Qian Yu?" Zhao growled.
Qian Yu nodded. "I am."
"You're the one who hurt my student, Dai Mubai?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation, no defensiveness in his tone. Just quiet certainty.
Zhao Wuji's brows twitched, his fury barely contained. "You do realize Dai Mubai is a student of Shrek Academy, don't you?"
Qian Yu smiled faintly, his voice cool. "And?"
That single word struck like a stone on still water.
Zhao's patience snapped.
"You knew he was from our academy and still dared to maim him?!"
Qian Yu's gaze held firm. "He provoked me. He struck first. I merely returned the favor. I even spared his life—that alone was more courtesy than he deserved."
The crowd murmured, stunned by the audacity.
Zhao Wuji's face darkened with rage. "Spared his life? You call that mercy?! You practically destroyed his future!"
"If I hadn't held back," Qian Yu said quietly, "he wouldn't have a future."
The words were spoken without pride, but with an edge of truth that cut deep. Zhao Wuji's breath hitched. The boy in front of him was young, but there was steel beneath that calm exterior.
Still, this wasn't just about pride. This was politics—consequences.
Dai Mubai was more than just a student. He was a prince, an exiled one, yes—but royalty all the same. If Shrek Academy didn't respond to this humiliation, it risked drawing the ire of the Star Luo Empire.
Zhao Wuji had no choice. He had to retaliate.
"You don't understand who Dai Mubai really is," Zhao said coldly.
"I don't care," Qian Yu replied, his voice low but resolute. "Status doesn't excuse behavior. If someone crosses a line, they should be ready to face the consequences—Shrek Academy included."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"I'll offer this once: walk away, and I won't pursue this further. But if you insist on dragging this out... prepare to pay the price."
Zhao's jaw clenched.
He wasn't alone. Qian Yu could sense it—another presence lurking nearby. That would be Flender, the Headmaster. Two Spirit Saints, watching and waiting.
But Qian Yu felt no fear.
Even at just forty-ninth level, he had the strength—and if need be, the wings to vanish into the void. And if all else failed, Xuan Yi was still out there, cloaked in the dark, a blade drawn in silence.
Zhao Wuji scoffed. "You're awfully confident for someone so young."
Qian Yu chuckled softly, brushing back a lock of hair. "Why waste words? If you've come to fight, then fight."
"So be it," Zhao growled. "Let's see what you're really made of!"
He roared, slamming his fists together as a surge of spirit energy erupted from his body.
"Martial Spirit, awaken!"
Brown fur burst across his skin like armor. He grew in size, his muscles bulging with raw strength. His frame towered over the courtyard at nearly three meters, his eyes glowing with a wild golden light.
Seven spirit rings spiraled around him—two yellow, two purple, three black. The crowd gasped in awe. Few had ever seen a power like this up close.
His hands, now enormous like bear paws, crackled with strength.
Power rippled outward, pressing down on the hotel grounds like a storm cloud descending.
Qian Yu, unfazed, tilted his head.
"So... this is the Immovable King, Zhao Wuji."
With a serene motion, he raised one hand—and from it, a long, slender spear began to form, light coalescing into gleaming steel.
The storm was about to begin.
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