Su Qingyue wore white today.
Her simple training uniform had no extra decorations, except for a few light blue ice crystal patterns embroidered on the cuffs and hem.
Her long hair was not tied up, falling loosely over her shoulders.
She stood quietly in the center of the arena, her hands hanging naturally at her sides, her gaze looking straight ahead.
There were no extra movements, no deliberate poses.
Yet, that simple stance caused the noise in the entire arena to fall silent for a moment.
The sunlight fell on her, casting a faint halo around her body.
This was not the effect of an ability, but a phenomenon caused by the natural overflow of the S-rank ice ability within her.
The moisture in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals around her, refracting the sunlight as if she were draped in a layer of starlight.
“What a beauty, fair as ice and jade.”
On the viewing stands, someone was the first to let out this exclamation.
Then, the sounds of admiration surged from all directions like an opened floodgate.
“Is this an S-rank ability user? Just standing there creates such an aura...”
“The Su family is really going to take off this time.”
“She’s beautiful, too. You won't find a second person in all of Donghai City with this kind of temperament.”
“Forget Donghai City; even the young ladies from the first-tier cities are nothing more than this.”
“She’s only eighteen, right? An eighteen-year-old S-rank... her future is limitless...”
On the main viewing stand, the look of admiration in Qin Ruolan’s eyes grew even stronger.
As a senior in the ice ability system, she understood better than anyone what the temperament Su Qingyue was currently displaying meant.
It wasn't faked; it was the result of a perfect fusion between the ice ability and her own personality.
An ability user in this state would have a cultivation speed at least thirty percent faster than an average person.
“A person naturally suited for the ice system,” Qin Ruolan said softly. “Rare indeed.”
Ye Lin also nodded slightly. “Her temperament is indeed good. I wonder how her actual combat skills are.”
“Combat can be practiced,” Qin Ruolan said. “But this kind of natural compatibility cannot be trained.”
Lei Meng scratched his bald head and chuckled. “In any case, our National Martial Arts Academy definitely wants this girl.”
“In your dreams,” three voices retorted simultaneously.
At the entrance on the other side of the arena, Lin Yuan also saw Su Qingyue.
His footsteps paused for a moment.
Having not seen her for ten days, she was indeed different.
It wasn't a change in her appearance, but her temperament—like a piece of raw jade that had been initially polished, revealing the warm luster within.
But Lin Yuan's attention was quickly drawn to something else.
On the viewing stands.
Among the crowd.
Three figures wearing gray cloaks were scattered in different positions.
Their gazes never left the white figure in the center of the arena.
Lin Yuan tightened his grip on his spear, a cold arc curving at the corners of his mouth.
The good show hasn't even started yet.
...
In the center of the arena, Su Qingyue stood quietly.
Her white clothes were like snow, her ink-black hair like a waterfall.
A faint ice-blue halo lingered around her, the traces of the S-rank ice ability’s natural overflow.
The sounds of admiration from the viewing stands rose and fell.
“Is this S-rank ice? Just standing there makes it impossible to look away...”
“I heard her ability has already awakened a form. It seems to be the Ice Phoenix?”
“Ice Phoenix? That’s one of the top forms in the ice system!”
“The Su family is really going to take off this time...”
On the main viewing stand, Qin Ruolan nodded slightly, the appreciation in her eyes nearly overflowing.
As the Admissions Director of Kyoto Academy, she had seen countless geniuses, but someone like Su Qingyue, whose temperament and ability were so compatible, was truly rare.
“A natural-born ice user,” she said softly.
Ye Lin crossed her arms over her chest and, for once, did not argue, only nodding in agreement.
Gu Cheng dangled an unlit cigarette in his mouth, squinting as he sized up the young girl in white in the field, speaking lazily, “Her temperament is indeed good. I just don't know about her combat skills. I've seen plenty of pretty vases.”
“Keep your mouth shut,” Qin Ruolan glanced at him coldly.
“Just telling the truth.”
Lei Meng scratched his bald head and was about to deliver a grand speech about how “physical techniques are the kingly way,” but he stopped before the words could leave his mouth.
He suddenly turned his head, his bell-like eyes staring toward the entrance on the other side of the arena.
There, a black-haired youth was walking into the field.
The youth was about 1.8 meters tall, with a well-proportioned and slender build, wearing a simple black training uniform.
He had a clean-cut appearance with sharp, tidy features, and his eyes held a calmness that didn't match his age.
What drew the most attention was the spear on his back.
The spear was a head taller than he was, entirely dark gray, and covered in dense combat marks.
Claw marks, tooth prints, and scorch marks were layered one over another, almost covering the entire shaft.
The spearhead, however, was polished to a brilliant shine, reflecting a cold, sharp light under the sun.
This spear had clearly been forged in a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
The youth did not speak after entering, merely walking quietly toward the center of the arena.
His pace was neither fast nor slow, his black hem swaying gently in the wind, the spear on his back rocking slightly with his steps.
Initially, no one noticed him.
Everyone’s gaze was captured by Su Qingyue.
But as he drew closer to the center step by step, the noise from the viewing stands began to diminish bit by bit.
It wasn't because of anything he did.
It was because with every step he took, the air in the arena seemed to grow a fraction heavier.
The feeling was hard to describe—like the calm before a storm, as if something was slowly awakening in the shadows.
The lightning elements in the air began to converge toward him unconsciously, forming a layer of an almost invisible electric field around him.
A few ability users with keen perception on the viewing stands were the first to change their expressions.
“This kid...”
Qin Ruolan's brow furrowed slightly.
She stared at the black-haired youth for a few seconds, and the frown on her brow deepened.
What made her frown was something else.
The youth's steps, breathing, and heartbeat were maintained in an extremely precise synchronization.
With every step he took, his heart finished exactly one beat. With every breath, his body’s center of gravity completed a micro-adjustment.
This wasn't talent.
This was instinct carved into his bones after tens of thousands of battles.
“Interesting,” Ye Lin suddenly spoke, a trace of interest in her tone. “This kid has fought quite a few hard battles.”
Gu Cheng shifted the unlit cigarette from the left side of his mouth to the right, his eyes narrowing further.
“The marks on that spear aren't decorations. He’s killed at least thirty monsters, and they were all head-on confrontations—the claw marks are all on the front of the shaft, not a single one on the side.”
“It means he never dodges,” Lei Meng’s voice became unusually serious. “Engaging the enemy head-on, charging in and striking hard.”
“It also means he’s crazy enough,” Gu Cheng added.
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