Chapter 65: Second Coming

“Was the elevator broken?” Xueqiu asked.

“You’re not wrong, but it was fine when we came up from the archive. If it’s a working elevator, ever wonder why it went from the basement to the first floor but not from the first to the fifth?” Xia Yin replied.

“Tampered with?” Xueqiu ventured.

“No, no, not everything’s a conspiracy. If the school could be rigged that easily, it’d be too… Never mind, see for yourself.”

Xia Yin pointed to the nearby elevator as they passed.

Xueqiu saw the closed elevator door.

A large hole gaped at its bottom left—the Shadow Ghosts’ entry point.

The door’s lower half bore a clean, horizontal slash, as if cut by something sharp.

“Don’t see it yet?” Xia Yin waved a hand in front of her.

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s ‘Yinglong’s’ cutting effect. And I’m not mistaken—my Contract is ‘Yinglong.’”

“So, you accidentally hit it, Brother?” Xueqiu didn’t catch on.

The ‘Yinglong’ Contract allowed cutting within a domain.

Xia Yin usually used it as invisible blades, paired with his tangible black sword.

For some reason, that sword wasn’t with him now.

“Not me. How could it be? The Shadow Ghost wasn’t even in that direction—I wouldn’t waste a cut there… Ahem, no more suspense. It was you.”

“Me?” Xueqiu felt a twitch in her heart.

Days ago, Xia Yin mentioned she’d used ‘Yinglong’ in that “dream.”

How could that be?

Even if ‘Mirror Demon’ could mimic Contracts, she’d tried replicating ‘Yinglong’ for months.

Fact was, no matter how she focused, like with ‘Hakutaku,’ nothing changed—let alone cut.

Yet in the past half-month, including today, she’d used ‘Yinglong’ twice, if Xia Yin was right.

Leaving the library, the campus path was empty, only familiar breezes brushing by.

It was August 25, yet spring lingered in the Academy.

The principal’s Contract was at work—the scarlet scars in the sky were gone, replaced by clear, cloudless blue.

Their escorts, two young men in lab coats, had unfamiliar, stiff faces, weary from working since yesterday, feigning calm.

Xueqiu avoided looking at Xia Yin, lost in thoughts about ‘Mirror Demon.’

It should only copy simple Contracts, like ‘Hakutaku.’

But ‘Yinglong’?

She couldn’t imagine wielding Xia Yin’s lethal Contract.

If he was joking about her fainting, that’d be more plausible.

“Still thinking about what I said? About using ‘Yinglong’?” Xia Yin, chatting with an escort, noticed her silence and offered casual comfort.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right, Xia Yin?” she asked suddenly.

She never expected the best outcome, not since childhood.

In competitions, optimism led to pre-game chaos.

Planned outings with friends fizzled—hope brought bad weather.

Even that day, walking home from school, merely dreaming of post-exam university plans, she met unforgettable pain.

Even when Xia Yin saved her that night, she wondered if he was a villain biding his time…

Her hopes never came true; joy always met sorrow.

“I’m not 100% sure, but was there a second ‘Yinglong’ user there?” Xia Yin said lightly, patting her head.

Their height gap—over twenty centimeters—made her, head bowed, seem like a sulky little girl.

She felt warmth from his touch.

As a child, with her parents alive, her father’s rough hand would stroke her head.

Over time, she grew annoyed.

But he was gone now—the scholarly man with gold-rimmed glasses, weathered by time.

And Xia Yin?

How long could her senior protect her?

For months, since the start, he’d helped her.

Every time, every matter.

How could she doubt him?

Why would she think he’d lie?

He brought her to the Academy, guided her, even saved her from Qingtan.

The library was close to the dorms—ten minutes at most, even dawdling.

Yet the four had spent fifteen minutes already.

The path seemed endless, the dorm’s iron gate an unreachable goal.

“Damn it! Careless! Xueqiu, hide!” Xia Yin shouted.

Before he finished, a bang—the lead escort fell.

The second reached for his gun, but a second shot was faster.

An ambush, in the school.

Xueqiu was tired of this.

She was just a frail freshman, a harmless girl, shorter than a cornstalk at its peak.

Why was she constantly terrified?

But fear had dulled to numbness.

Her first panic was for Xia Yin.

Back then, fresh from the edge of death, she saw the carefree chatterbox on the phone, eyeing her.

Now? What was Xia Yin doing?

He focused, staring at a black figure ten meters away, advancing.

He wasn’t frozen in fear—even if she died of fright, he wouldn’t.

‘Yinglong’s’ domain snapped open after the second shot, slicing incoming bullets.

The mask he’d never forget, with that filthy cloak, appeared again.

“You again? Still not dead, you bastard?” Xia Yin said sharply.