Chapter Twenty-Five: Visitors from the Temple

Today was the day the results were posted. Early in the morning, a crowd had already gathered before the notice board at Maple Leaf Academy.

Ye Ran had arrived early as well. Unexpectedly, he had passed the first round of examinations. Though he had scored only thirty-six points, his name was indeed listed at the very bottom of the rankings.

As long as he passed the second written test, admission this time was practically assured.

Behind him came a chorus of exclamations. A group of young men and women, all dressed in immaculate blue robes with conspicuous lightning emblems at their chests, strode through the crowd. Against the masses, they stood out like cranes among chickens, each carrying themselves with an unmistakable air of superiority.

“They're from the Hall of Thunder—so the rumors are true. Even the Hall's people are coming to study at Maple Leaf Academy.”

“I heard that one of the newly chosen from the Hall is going to take part in the final martial exam.”

“Seriously? If they're participating, isn't victory a foregone conclusion? Why are we even bothering?”

“Who knows? I heard some of those taking part in the martial exam are already quite famous. Yu Bo from the Hall of Martial Heroes, for example. They say he narrowly escaped with his life from that notorious demon scion of the God-Hunting Clan not long ago. And Samobiku from the Hall of Thunder—he's called a once-in-a-decade genius. Even Thor himself once summoned him. I wonder who the unlucky ones will be to face them.”

The God-Hunting Clan. Demon scion.

Ye Ran had heard of those names. In this world, where gods existed, so too did demons. Humanity, gods, and demons stood in a precarious balance upon the continent. The enmity between gods and demons was a hatred passed down through generations, irreconcilable.

Those chosen by the gods were known as the Godchosen. Those chosen by the demons became the God-Hunting Clan. The gods, in turn, had their own Demon-Hunting Legion. The depth of animosity between the two sides was clear.

The stance of humanity, in contrast, was rather ambiguous. Not only did they take part in the struggles between gods and demons, but their loyalties were ambiguous as well. Yet they were the most numerous and powerful force on the continent—neither gods nor demons could afford to provoke them.

Among the God-Hunting Clan, two individuals were particularly infamous, wanted by all the gods. One was Ivan the Dread Hunter, also known as the Son of Satan, who obsessively hunted third- and fourth-generation gods, rarely leaving a corpse intact.

The other was Shi Fan, the Godslayer. He was not only cold-blooded but also exceedingly bold—he once broke into the Sixth Celestial Hall alone, and even Athena herself failed to capture him.

It was said that, in terms of raw power, even Qianlong—the top expert of Stormflow City—and Zang Shenmian, the wielder of the Black Demon Sword, might not rival these two. Thus, Yu Bo's escape from the demon scion was no small feat, even if his fame was earned in a rather peculiar way…

“I've heard that Michelle from the Sixth Celestial Hall is a rising talent, lauded as the ‘Peerless Beauty of the Hall.’ Will she take part in the martial exam?”

The discussion reached Ye Ran's ears once more.

His brow twitched. The more he wished to avoid this name, the more it seemed to find him.

She was even more highly regarded at the Sixth Celestial Hall than he’d imagined. Should he envy her, or mock himself instead?

“She probably won’t. I heard she’s already earned the title of ‘Ice Goddess’ at the Sixth Celestial Hall. Her fame outshines even Yu Bo and Samobiku.”

“Still, I’ve heard there are other motives behind the Hall sending so many renowned talents to Maple Leaf Academy…”

The voices around him grew more heated, speculations and complaints mingling into a noisy clamor. Ye Ran felt increasingly agitated. He wasn’t sure if it was the endless chatter or hearing that name—one he had nearly erased from his heart—that unsettled him.

Head lowered, he moved quickly to escape the crowd, only to find three figures approaching from ahead.

Behind were a plain-looking girl and a burly young man, his muscular arms tightly bound by heavy silver armor, his broad face severe and sullen.

Leading them was a girl in a flowing azure dress, ethereal as a fairy from a painting, walking absently, lost in thought.

Both she and Ye Ran were preoccupied; neither noticed the other until a dull thud sounded—Ye Ran stumbled and fell to the ground.

He hadn’t even gotten close to her before a ripple, like water, had surged from her, repelling him.

Startled, the girl turned back to herself and hurriedly reached out a hand.

“Are you all right—”

She broke off, her outstretched hand frozen midair. The cool, resolute face before her stirred memories, rising vividly in her mind.

She could no longer recall how many times he had fought bitterly with the street toughs of the slums on her behalf, or how many nights he had braved wind and rain to work, just so the two of them might have a meal to share.

She remembered that rainy night, his small figure clutching a stone blade, standing vigil by her sickbed, ever alert to the predatory footsteps outside.

She remembered the smile he gave, counting their meager savings, and she remembered, most of all, the desolate look on his face when the divine messenger came and revealed his intentions…

Ye Ran, too, froze. The girl before him, with her delicate features and otherworldly air, gradually merged with the memory of that simple, modestly dressed girl whose beauty shone undimmed.

Then, just as inevitably, they drew apart again.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. No matter how he tried to avoid it, fate seemed determined to make them meet again. But what did it matter?

The little girl called Michelle, with whom he had once depended on for survival, was now the “Ice Goddess” of the Sixth Celestial Hall.

And Ye Ran was still Ye Ran—impoverished, alone, his future ever uncertain.

All of it cut at his heart like a merciless blade, wounding his pride. Without a word, he stood and turned away.

“Ye Ran… Ye Ran…”

Her voice called after him, but Ye Ran did not turn back, striding away. Immediately, a large hand fell on his shoulder.

“Hey, kid, didn’t you hear Michelle calling you?” The burly youth in silver armor caught up in two strides, his broad, fan-like hand pressing down on Ye Ran’s shoulder with threatening force.

Anger flared within Ye Ran. He struck the man’s wrist, who, wincing, twisted his hand into a claw and grabbed at him once more.

“Let go.”

Ye Ran swung a fist onto the back of the man’s hand. Even through the glove, the armored youth grunted in pain and withdrew his hand.

With a cold snort, Ye Ran strode off, leaving the youth fuming. Since when had anyone from the Sixth Celestial Hall been treated this way? Gathering his energy, a fierce wind swept out as he prepared to chase after Ye Ran—only to have a slender blue sword hilt block his path.

A power like rippling water spread out, and the youth’s energy was suppressed before it could manifest.

“Michelle, what’s wrong? Didn’t you want to keep him here? I’ll bring that brat back for you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Watching Ye Ran’s figure disappear into the crowd, Michelle’s sword hand trembled ever so slightly.

The young man frowned. “Why not? That kid was so rude—if we don’t teach him—”

“I said that’s not necessary.”

Before he could finish, Michelle’s cold, impatient voice cut him off, the chill in it forcing him to swallow any further words.