Chapter Twelve: No Fighting

Leaf Night Academy, Sun Tower.

“I feel like my heart has been stolen.” Even after returning to Leaf Night Academy, Zhou Yi seemed utterly absent-minded.

“Isn’t your heart supposed to belong to the Third Prince?” The red-haired man across from him chuckled softly.

“That’s my true devotion to the Third Prince,” Zhou Yi replied with conviction. “But right now, Liu Ru can at least rank among my top three devotions.”

“Alright, alright.” The red-haired man replied perfunctorily. He glanced down at the recommendation form Zhou Yi had handed in, shook his head, and laughed. “Another mercenary guild. Why do they always like to use mercenary guilds as a cover? Isn’t it expensive? I’ve handed out so many recommendation forms these last two years—aren’t they good enough?”

“They probably think you’re not official enough, boss,” Zhou Yi muttered, but seeing the red-haired man smiling at him, he quickly corrected himself. “It’s just that they don’t know what’s good for them.”

“It’s really still a matter of business reputation.” The red-haired man smiled. “Mercenary guilds have been in business for so long; their reputation is impeccable. We’ve only been at this for two years. We can’t just compete on price, so it’s natural to be at a disadvantage.”

He turned his attention back to Zhou Yi. “Did you hand over the secret casket?”

Zhou Yi hesitated, unsure if what he had done counted as handing it over or not. But in the end, he nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s good.” The red-haired man looked out the window. “I heard a prince from Styr arrived for the third trial this year?”

“Yes,” Zhou Yi replied. “He used a Styr Empire recommendation form—which allows direct admission, skipping the third trial—but he refused.”

“So his real intentions lie elsewhere.” The red-haired man smiled faintly. “I’m curious what exactly he’s interested in.”

“I heard that in past years, recommenders from the three great empires all enrolled anonymously…” Zhou Yi said, watching the red-haired man.

“Not just in past years,” the red-haired man replied with a slight smile, “it’s the norm. And even if their identities aren’t known, there are only so many possibilities—it’s not hard to guess who they are.”

“So for him to enter so openly really is unusual.” Zhou Yi nodded, then whispered, “Boss, did you communicate with the other two about what you did this time?”

“In other words, does the Dean know?” Zhou Yi was referring to this incident.

The red-haired man smiled at Zhou Yi. “What, Zhou, are you scared?”

Zhou Yi looked at him. “Aren’t you at all afraid, boss?”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” The red-haired man laughed heartily. “If they’ve got the nerve, let them come find me.”

He had barely finished speaking when an urgent knock sounded at the door. “Karotes, get out here this instant!”

Zhou Yi nearly burst into tears on the spot. He looked pitifully at the red-haired man. “Boss…”

“Look at you, so spineless—it’s just a crazy woman.” Karotes laughed boisterously, striding forward to open the door.

The moment the door swung open, a gleaming, razor-sharp sword was pressed against his throat. “Give me an explanation first.”

Standing before him was a woman dressed in snowy white. She gripped the sword calmly, the blade at Karotes’ throat, her gaze furious and icy. “In a hundred years, we’ve never had a chairman as absurd as you.”

“President…” Zhou Yi greeted her pitifully. “Let me explain, the boss has his reasons.”

“Is his eighty-year-old mother pregnant again?” the woman replied coldly.

“Absolutely not,” Karotes answered, utterly unflustered despite the blade. “Diexian, put down the sword, I can explain.”

“Translation: let me spin you a good story,” came a slow, lazy voice from behind the woman. A man strolled in leisurely, dressed in a long crimson robe, passing the two as he entered the room. He laid a hand on Zhou Yi’s shoulder and turned to look back at them.

“Sister Die, go ahead—if you stab him, I’ll take the blame.”

“You just want to see the world in chaos,” Karotes scolded angrily.

“Our dojo’s mission since day one has been to stir things up—the chairman knows that well.” The man in red spoke unhurriedly and glanced at Zhou Yi. “Your boss is about to get into a brawl. How about joining the dojo instead? I’ll give you a star.”

“Really?” Zhou Yi asked in delight.

He knew well what it meant to be given a star.

He glanced at Karotes, still held at swordpoint, and made up his mind, speaking with feigned regret, “No, thank you!”

“I see, ‘no’ means ‘yes’.” The man in red laughed, pulling a heavy silver star badge from his robe and pressing it into Zhou Yi’s hand. “Scarlet Heart Dojo will always be your home.”

Zhou Yi was nearly in tears. “Boss, it’s not that I’m disloyal—they just offered too much.”

“Think of the Third Prince!” Karotes shouted.

Zhou Yi instantly sobered.

He looked at the man in red. “Master, can you lure the Third Prince over to your side too?”

The man in red gazed at Zhou Yi. “We’ve been trying for decades.”

Zhou Yi knew this well, so he shook his head resolutely. “My heart belongs to the Third Prince.”

“Good, you have spirit.” The man in red smiled, finally letting go of Zhou Yi.

“The star…” Zhou Yi reluctantly handed back the badge.

“You keep it,” the man in red smiled. “If we ever run short, we’ll come for it.” He finally turned his attention to Karotes. “Let’s hear it, Chairman. We all want an explanation.”

“What’s there to say? You all know already.” Karotes looked utterly unbothered.

“Snow Burial Society has the right to depose the chairman in special circumstances,” Diexian said coldly from across him. “I believe this is just such a circumstance.”

“Seconded,” the man in red raised his hand. “Two to one, Sister Die. Kill him and it’ll be quiet.”

“Instigators never end well,” Karotes said, deeply aggrieved.

“Our mission is to set every fire we manage to spark, so thoroughly that no one will be left to come after us for retribution.” The man in red smiled slyly. “Farewell, Chairman.”

“You’re forcing me.” Karotes steeled himself and shouted, “Third Prince, save me!”

The moment he called for help, both Diexian and the man in red’s expressions shifted.

The next instant, another door swung open.

Behind it stood a small girl in a hood, silently watching the tense standoff, momentarily stunned.

She lowered her head and softly murmured an apology.

Diexian immediately withdrew her sword, looking as awkward as a parent caught mid-domestic dispute by their sleepy child.

The man in red was also taken aback. He stared at the little girl and spoke gently, “Your Highness, we were just playing around. Please don’t mind us; it’s not your fault.”

The hooded girl gazed quietly at the scene. Beneath the hood was a face of unimaginable perfection, her hair a vivid flame-red, her eyes blooming like fire lotuses—her beauty defied all description. Yet her expression was softly bewildered.

From her billowing cloak, she pulled out a small writing pad and, standing there, quickly scribbled something down.

Everyone waited in silence.

When she finished, she flipped the notepad around.

“Don’t fight.”