Chapter Forty-Five: The King of Forest Flames

“Beep, beep, beep. Time to get up, time to get up.”

At the head of Ye Bai’s bed, a little blue figure was fluttering her wings incessantly. The tiny figure tugged hard at Ye Bai’s eyelids with her miniature fingers, just as Mu’er would at home, propping her own eyelids open to urge him out of bed.

Ye Bai blinked lazily, much to the misfortune of the intelligent assistant Mu’er, who found herself dangling from his eyelid as if she’d just ridden a roller coaster for free.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a letter hanging from Mu’er’s belly, with a red heart at its center and a keyhole within the heart. The entire envelope was pink, brimming with girlish energy.

This was something Mu’er had devised after finding the little digital assistant cute; Ye Bai hadn’t bothered to change it.

“Mu’er, what does the letter say?”

As Ye Bai rose to wash up, Mu’er flitted in circles through the air, her voice light and sweet.

“Mentor Zhang Jian. I forgot to mention yesterday: each month, you’ll have a random assessment in groups. Here’s some advice—your two groupmates are the ones you’ll be able to entrust your back to in the future. The three of you must trust each other. If you can’t even manage that, you’d best leave the academy sooner rather than later.”

The first letter concluded as Mu’er finished reading aloud. At that moment, with a thought, Ye Bai summoned the content of another letter before him, though this time he didn’t have Mu’er read it out.

‘Ye Bai, this is Yao Ling. I arranged for you and Cao Xiaoseng to meet at the library today—a place nearly all freshmen visit at the start of university.’

Only at the end did Ye Bai realize this was a group message from Yao Ling.

On his way to the library, Ye Bai noticed that the outer display of the Science and Technology Center had changed again, reverting to the rankings shown just after the exams, though this time with more names.

Drawing closer, he saw that the rankings were divided into four sections, one for each year.

At the top was the senior class, with approximately the top fifty listed by rank. However, the top thirty spots were marked only by pitch-black wood-type avatars, with no names displayed.

In the last twenty, Ye Bai spotted Zhang Jian. He hadn’t expected the frail-looking Zhang Jian—who seemed as though a stiff breeze might blow him over—to be so formidable. He clicked his tongue in disbelief.

If the senior students heard Ye Bai’s remarks, they’d surely mock him mercilessly. To joke about Zhang Jian, the Forestfire King, was to jest about one of the most renowned figures at Purple Star Academy.

Who didn’t know that Zhang Jian was gifted with rare fire attributes and had also awakened wood attributes? During his first year’s ranking exam, he unleashed a blazing inferno that scorched all of District D with a single move. Everyone believed that was his trump card, as he was only at the entry level then.

But in his sophomore year, he shattered all expectations yet again. While everyone at the academy knew attribute fusion was possible, those who succeeded found it came at the cost of greatly increased energy consumption—hardly worthwhile.

During the sophomore secret realm expedition, the final boss was the Sky-Piercing Ape, a beast dozens of meters tall, whose mastery of wood attributes was uncanny. Those who entered its domain barely had time to react before scores of vines shot from the ground, swords and blades bouncing off, fire and water alike rendered useless.

The vines formed a cage, trapping the explorers inside, who soon were dried to husks, becoming fertilizer for the Sky-Piercing Ape.

Zhang Jian was there as well, caught in the very same trap. At the time, he had just stepped into the Foundation Tier, while the Sky-Piercing Ape was nearly breaking through to the Growth Tier, its strength overwhelming.

Encased in fire, Zhang Jian looked like the Fire God Zhu Rong incarnate. Flames engulfed him, the surrounding vines sizzling and popping, but barely suffering any true harm.

Fire counters wood—everyone knows this. But against absolute power, elemental advantage means little. At that moment, Zhang Jian suddenly withdrew his fire, and then wood attribute flames enveloped his body.

When the wood attribute was unleashed, the vines swelled crazily, yet Zhang Jian’s expression remained unchanged. Suddenly, a red glow appeared at his abdomen, spreading up his arms and down his legs, until his whole body was aflame once more.

This time, however, the fire was denser, less fierce but more substantial, crackling in the air without any fuel. The wooden attribute’s hold was pierced, compressed to a small green orb at his core, which burned quietly.

Most people fall into the trap of thinking only fire counters wood, forgetting that wood also breeds fire—wood as the source, fueling the blaze.

This new flame, though smaller than before, was more compact, snapping in the empty air. Noticing something amiss, the Sky-Piercing Ape turned to look—Zhang Jian’s eyes, once both black, now shone one red, one green.

Zhang Jian stepped forward onto a vine. This time, he finally damaged it; wisps of black smoke rose where he trod.

Before everyone’s eyes, Zhang Jian gripped a vine with both hands. The others, standing just outside the beast’s reach, turned pale—after all, they had just watched as the vines drained several people into shriveled husks.

But Zhang Jian’s hands glowed green with wood attribute energy, shrouded in fire. Pressing his hands to the vine, its dark green hue began to yellow, and the green orb at his core seemed to grow larger.

As the vine yellowed, fire still licked its surface. Bit by bit, it withered until only a thin strand remained. Zhang Jian wrenched it apart and walked out.

The Sky-Piercing Ape watched, powerless to intervene, as Zhang Jian completed the trial.

From that day, Zhang Jian’s legend was firmly established. Within the academy, none could disregard him.

Ye Bai glanced at the sophomore and junior rankings; he knew none of them, but several names caught his eye: Xiao Ou, Bai Wan’er.

Xiao Ou was likely a direct descendant of the Verdant Wood King—perhaps even a collateral branch. In Greenforest City, anyone surnamed Xiao at Purple Star Academy was probably connected to that lineage.

As for Bai Wan’er, the name immediately reminded Ye Bai of Huoyan Jiayi from Snow City—a girl dressed all in white, her very attribute energy white as well. Ye Bai made a mental note to look up white attribute energy in the library later.

Looking further down, he saw the freshman section was still covered in vibrant green, the original structure of the building, with no rankings yet. Presumably, this was related to Zhang Jian’s mention of the upcoming freshman assessment in a month.

“Beep beep beep.”

At that moment, Mu’er emerged once more, and a line of text appeared before Ye Bai—it was Yao Ling, asking what was taking him so long. She’d been waiting ages, and neither he nor Cao Xiaoseng had arrived.

Ye Bai slapped his forehead, quickly following Mu’er’s guidance toward the library.

Hot—it was the only word for July. The whole world seemed asleep, silent, with only the occasional sound from deep within the academy reminding one that life still stirred.

Today, Yao Ling had changed out of the yellow tracksuit from the day before, wearing a white short-sleeved top and a pink skirt. Her ponytail was let down, hair cascading to her waist.

Her cheeks glowed rosy beneath flawless skin, untouched by makeup; after all, the Yao family’s tradition of herbal wellness outdid any cosmetic on the market.

Yao Ling sat on the steps outside the library, pink skirt tucked between her legs, exposing ankles pale as snow. Her right hand shielded her brow, brushing aside dark hair, guarding against the still-rising sun.

The sunlight slanted down, making her cheeks even rosier. The red-and-white bracelet on her wrist had slipped toward her elbow. With one hand shading her face, she gazed into the distance until a dark figure appeared on the horizon.

“Yao Ling? Why aren’t you inside? It’s so hot out here.” Ye Bai looked at the girl, sunbaked for who knows how long, and asked.

“I was inside, but you have to enter the library as a group, or else you’ve got to hunt everyone down one by one. So I waited here for you.” Yao Ling stood, smoothing her sweat-dampened bangs.

“Where’s Cao Xiaoseng?” Ye Bai glanced around, seeing no sign of him.

Yao Ling puffed her cheeks in mild annoyance, glared fiercely at the grass, and stomped a few times before replying, “How should I know? He’s probably still asleep.”

She shot Ye Bai a glare, clearly displeased at being left waiting so long without even an apology.

Ye Bai scratched his head, pretending not to notice, and summoned Mu’er to send Cao Xiaoseng another video message.

After quite a while, Cao Xiaoseng finally answered, wearing the same clothes as before, sprawled on his bed and still rubbing his eyes.

“What’s up? I’m not even awake yet,” he grumbled.

Ye Bai was speechless—how could someone his age still be so grumpy in the mornings? Before he could say anything, Yao Ling squeezed into the frame.

“You!” she exclaimed, pointing at Cao Xiaoseng with a slender finger, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been waiting here almost an hour, and you’re still sleeping? Didn’t you get my messages?”

Ye Bai rubbed his ears and took a few steps back. On the screen, Cao Xiaoseng instantly snapped to attention.

“I’ll be right there! I muted my assistant yesterday and didn’t hear anything.”

His voice echoed, but he was nowhere to be seen. Some static crackled, the video cut off, and Cao Xiaoseng was gone.

This time, Ye Bai and Yao Ling didn’t wait long before Cao Xiaoseng arrived.