Chapter 11: Word Spirit
Bai Ci stared at the roasted pork knuckle, mashed potatoes, and sauerkraut on the table, her mouth twitching. She had no appetite for this stuff. The prim waiter had called it “exquisite German cuisine,” but it reminded her of something she’d seen online: wild boars can’t eat fine bran. She’d rather have spicy hot pot from a street stall where she could pick her own ingredients. Still, she sat down to eat—first, because she was actually hungry, and second, because, well, you’re already here.
The crisp sound of slicing the pork knuckle mixed with its savory aroma. Bai Ci picked up the silver fork, stabbed a piece, and popped it into her mouth. Then, she froze…
Lu Mingfei glanced at the two big bones on the table, then snuck a peek at Bai Ci’s slightly rounded stomach. His eyes landed on the napkin she was using to wipe her mouth… damn, she ate two pieces.
“You probably aced the exam, right?” Bai Ci said casually, sipping water. A guy who could one-punch a bear? No way he’d flunk.
Her blind trust made Lu Mingfei nervous, a twinge of guilt hitting him. He felt like General Pan Feng, burdened with high expectations from Yuan Shao—aka Bai Ci. If she found out after the 3E exam that he was just a flash-in-the-pan loser who was badass for a few seconds, would she sit there stunned like Yuan Shao, utterly disappointed?
So, he just nodded lightly, playing it off.
Bai Ci didn’t press further. She stood and left the cafeteria.
The 3E exam used dragon text incantations to awaken the dragon blood in hybrids. For those with pure enough blood to resonate, the incantations sank deep into their minds, like whispers in their heads. If you could hear them, you could write the answers naturally—it was bloodline resonance. If Bai Ci was right, she should now have access to something called [Yanling].
A-grade privileges were handy, giving her access to a lot of Yanling info. Most of the library was open to her. On the train, someone had shown her Yanling—magical, like something out of Harry Potter, endlessly fascinating.
Cassel College’s library was extravagant, like some king’s palace. Bai Ci looked up at the massive glass dome. The marble floor was so polished it could be a mirror, reflecting the soft light from above. Neat rows of bookshelves lined the space, with high stools between them, giving the vibe of a royal archive. Her eyes scanned the spines—surprisingly, a huge chunk of the books were about China, as if they were certain a Dragon King would awaken there.
But Bai Ci found it hard to believe. She’d lived there for over a decade and never heard of any dragon revival news.
After reading a history book about the Eastern Han, her worldview collapsed. Like, Liu Xiu was an S-grade hybrid with some Yanling from the Earth and Mountain King lineage, summoning meteors on battlefields to crush the morale of tens of thousands. When fleeing, pursued by thousands, he reached a river that froze over, letting him cross, only to melt when his enemies followed—possibly a Sky and Wind King Yanling. Or when he, alone with an iron rod, reclaimed warlord territories, they surrendered instantly, awed by his combat prowess.
It sounded far-fetched… but also kinda made sense.
Then there were Three Kingdoms figures—all hybrids. Zhao Yun likely had Time Zero, slipping through armies unscathed. Ma Chao, called “Divine Might Heavenly General” by northern barbarians, scared even Cao Cao, with possible Yanling like Moment or Thunder Pool, maybe even dragon-slaying records.
Okay, fine. By this book’s logic, Zhou Yu having a Bronze and Fire King Yanling and unleashing a massive blaze seemed plausible.
So Ma Chao shouting something like, “My horse treads the Qilian Mountains, shaking rivers; my army rises, defying the heavens,” or “No thunder can resist me,” felt totally possible.
Bai Ci skimmed records of lesser figures like Gongsun Shu or Li Xiong but didn’t care—never heard of them, probably nobodies.
After a while, she lost interest. She only knew a few historical figures, and she hadn’t checked Yanling books yet. No need to waste time.
She picked up The Yanling Sequence Table. Only lunatics or idiots tried mastering all Yanlings. Most people got one, awakened the moment their bloodline activated.
Of course, there were exceptions. The legendary Japanese Onmyoji Abe no Seimei mastered multiple Yanlings, a standout among hybrids.
During the 3E exam, Bai Ci felt something stirring in her body. Now, by reading dragon texts, she needed to resonate with her own Yanling.
She had no clue what it did. The vice-principal’s [Discipline] Yanling blocked her from using it, so she didn’t even know what it was.
Her black pupils slowly turned gold, a faint glow flickering in her eyes, like it had crossed centuries, then faded into her irises.
A strange sensation filled her body. Suddenly, ancient dragon text flowed from her mouth. In that moment, it was as if she’d crossed eons, witnessing the rise and fall of ages. The sound was low, desolate, ancient—like a primordial deity’s murmur from the dawn of time.
Her Yanling was called Pure Land.
It formed a massive force field around her, with high-speed air currents creating a barrier-like “domain.” This domain could block bullets, flames, even let her survive a fall from a skyscraper by buffering with air. It could also allow brief levitation, letting her “fly.” Though defensive, with mastery, she could crush opponents into dust with her domain’s force.
Reading the description, Bai Ci thought of a certain anime move… like Shinra Tensei?
She’d have to try it once she left campus.
Closing the book, she stretched, put it back on the shelf, and wandered off to head back.
“When hybrids take the 3E exam, many see tragic things in their visions. That’s when girls are at their most vulnerable,” Fingel said smugly, chomping on a pork knuckle, talking to Lu Mingfei. “That’s your chance to swoop in, comfort her, hold her hand, say, ‘Don’t cry, I’m here.’ Boom—you’re in her heart.”
Lu Mingfei nodded, eating mashed potatoes and slicing pork knuckle, half-listening.
“Aren’t you excited?” Fingel shot him a disdainful look. “This is when you show your gentleness, your affection—strike while the iron’s hot!”
“…Oh.” Lu Mingfei finished half the knuckle, nodding, but he didn’t buy it. Back in Chicago, this guy couldn’t even afford a Coke.
“I think that Russian girl, Zero, looks good. She’s an iceberg on the outside, but maybe a volcano inside, all sad now. Be bold, show your caring side, and she might fall into your arms.”
Lu Mingfei thought Zero looked like a cold-blooded killer, icy as hell.
During the exam, he’d noticed her—low-cut white T-shirt, near-white blonde hair braided into a bun, long neck. Sunlight hit her like it radiated from within, her hair tips glowing.
But that glow felt distant, alien, making her look like a flawless, icy doll.
He suddenly felt like a creep, like a weird uncle ogling a loli. If it wasn’t an exam, someone might’ve called the cops for “loli harassment.” Even if Zero was a “legal loli,” he’d probably still end up in jail, sewing and singing prison songs.
He shook his head hard, unsure why he’d noticed her, and took another bite of pork knuckle. “Nah, senior, I doubt we’ll cross paths.”
China, Yangtze River.
The Monyach rocked in a storm on the upper Yangtze. Despite its size, it swayed like a paper boat.
It was autumn, the dry season, but this cursed rain had pushed the reservoir to flood levels.
The brutal weather sent most ships to shore, but the Monyach’s lights flickered through the storm.
A nanomaterial lifeline stretched from the ship to the riverbed, taut in the rain and current, looking ready to snap. It tethered Ye Sheng and Aki Shutoku below. In Aki’s embrace, Ye Sheng opened his eyes, his golden pupils fading, heartbeat quickening, body warming.
He retracted his “Snake,” a bit elated.
“A hundred meters below, in the rock layer, there’s a massive metal conductor—likely Norton’s palace.”