Breath

“So, Vice Principal, why exactly did you call me here?” Selina asked, her voice calm and composed as she faced the middle-aged man in the dark tent that blocked out all external light.

“Hm? Any questions, Miss Selina? We’re just conducting an exam,” the disheveled cowboy replied, his lazy golden eyes betraying a carefree attitude, as if nothing in the world warranted his seriousness—except the appreciative gaze he fixed on her face.

Perverted old cowboy, Selina thought.

“Vice Principal, the tent’s up as you requested. No one else is here. If you have a purpose, just say it. Wasting time isn’t good for either of us,” she said, unconvinced by his flimsy excuse. A tent for “privacy” in an exam where scores were public anyway? It didn’t add up.

The sudden intrusion of this so-called vice principal had disrupted her plans. As one of the continent’s greatest alchemists, Selina had every reason to believe he’d see through any subtle moves she made. Despite his harmless appearance and lack of overt power, her instincts screamed that he was dangerously strong—stronger than she could handle, even at her peak.

“You’re a smart girl, but hasn’t anyone taught you that wit without strength only makes you a target?” Alastair’s voice carried a scorching intensity, his golden eyes igniting in the darkness. The moment their gazes met, Selina felt her soul burn under his stare. Only her exceptional soul strength kept her from crumbling under that lethal gaze.

Instinctively, she stepped back, only to hit an invisible barrier. Her hand grazed it, feeling a liquid-like flow.

An alchemical barrier!

Her alertness spiked. A diamond-shaped pattern glowed on the back of her hand, and with a crisp metallic hum, silver blades gleamed in the dim light. Gripping two shining daggers, her emerald-green eyes flared to life.

The situation had escalated, and conflict seemed inevitable. Her mana surged, and she silently chanted a technique, ready to unleash a secret move. Alastair, observing her like a wary beast, nodded approvingly.

“Impressive speed. But even the fastest beast is just a caged animal in a trap,” he remarked.

“What do you want?” Selina demanded, feeling ensnared in a conspiracy. Had her movements been exposed? Was this an ambush by the elves’ sworn enemies to eliminate her at Tianqi?

“What do I want? To fulfill my duty as vice principal and thoroughly evaluate my adorable future student,” he said with a smirk.

Within the alchemical barrier, Selina felt her mana draining rapidly. The barrier not only confined her but was siphoning her energy, set up silently while she was off guard. This lecherous cowboy was terrifyingly skilled.

As he advanced, her grip on the daggers tightened. She didn’t want to fight at Tianqi, but his clear ill intent left her no choice. “I can’t hesitate anymore,” she decided. One more step, and she’d strike.

“Still not showing your true self?” Alastair’s voice lost its playful tone, replaced by a deep, oppressive weight as his worn boots echoed on the ground.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Selina gritted her teeth, her long-buried killing intent surfacing. She wasn’t a pushover. He might be stronger, but until her trump cards were exhausted, the outcome was uncertain.

He stepped into her danger zone. Her battle aura surged, blood boiling as she activated her technique.

Wind Spirit Moon Shadow: Fifth Stage

Her body moved at six times normal speed, too fast for the eye to track. Her blades sliced through the air, trailing blazing fire.

Blade Art: Flowing Flame

One of Selina’s mastered techniques, this martial skill infused elemental power. The rapid slashes ignited the air, leaving elegant, fiery arcs. Charging head-on, she exploited the typical weakness of mages and alchemists—their slower speed. Her speed-focused technique was nearly unavoidable except by direct confrontation.

Her twin blades, wreathed in flames, sealed his left and right escapes. Above and below offered no refuge, and retreating couldn’t outpace her swift strikes. The attack was almost guaranteed to hit.

Yet Alastair didn’t move, unperturbed by the oncoming blades. His golden eyes remained fixed on the necklace around Selina’s neck. As if confirming something, his oppressive aura vanished, and his serious demeanor seamlessly reverted to roguish nonchalance.

Selina’s blades slashed toward his smirking face. Shocked by the sudden shift, she couldn’t retract her attack at such close range. But as her blades met their target, a piercing clash rang out, forcing her to wince. The recoil numbed her hands—not the sensation of hitting flesh but of striking metal.

In the dim tent, a living, deep-gold alchemical liquid enveloped Alastair’s sides, blocking her blades in an instant. He chuckled, and the liquid, like an obedient pet, softened and melted into his shadow.

“Girls shouldn’t hide their beauty. Lovely things should be shown off for appreciation,” he teased, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

Selina felt a sudden weight. Looking down, she saw the alchemical liquid creeping up her legs, threatening to encase her entirely.

“You!” she snapped.

“Don’t worry. I mean no harm. I’m just peeling back that false shell you’re hiding under,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips with a playful smile.