The first week after enrollment, Xuan Xi lived more peacefully than she had imagined.
Her daily routine was very regular—woken up by SigrdrÃfa’s Elemental Detoxification sounds in the morning, going to the cafeteria for breakfast, attending theory classes, going to the training grounds in the afternoon, and returning to the dorm at night to read or stare into space.
Occasionally she exchanged a word or two with SigrdrÃfa, but the content never exceeded ten characters, basically just “Excuse me,” “Thanks,” and “Mm.”
But Xuan Xi noticed some details.
For example, SigrdrÃfa would fold her bedding every morning before Xuan Xi woke up, but she would never make too much noise, especially when Xuan Xi was still in bed.
For example, SigrdrÃfa would sometimes put things Xuan Xi might need on the desk—such as a map of the training grounds, today’s cafeteria menu, and an annotated version of the class schedule.
But she never explained why these were there; she just left them there for Xuan Xi to browse whenever.
Although SigrdrÃfa never initiated a conversation with her, if Xuan Xi spoke first, SigrdrÃfa would almost always respond.
Even a simple “Nice weather today” could earn a “Mm.”
Even though it was just one “Mm,” it was at least a response.
Xuan Xi felt that this was probably SigrdrÃfa’s way of saying “I’m listening.”
But the peaceful days didn’t last long.
The trigger was that lousy sparring session in the first practical combat training class.
Someone posted on the academy’s internal bulletin board. The title was: “Have you seen that ‘no-rank’ girl? She beat Reggie Gangzong of B-rank!”
Dozens of replies followed the post. At first, they simply discussed the spar.
Some were amazed by her combat skills, some analyzed her dragon species, some were curious about her bloodline.
But soon the tone began to shift.
“What exactly is her dragon form? A dragon without wings? Is that really a dragon?”
“I heard she’s a hybrid, but her bloodline column is empty.”
“Empty? How could the academy accept someone of unknown bloodline?”
“Maybe she’s not a dragon at all. She might be some low-level wyrm that sneaked in.”
“Her eye color is also strange. Do Western Dragons have amber pupils?”
“And that marking on her face—isn’t it some kind of curse?”
“I heard her family is just an ordinary blacksmith, no background.”
“Then how does she deserve to stay in Room 404? That’s a double dorm room, right? It should have been for people with status.”
In the end, someone wrote this in the post:
“No bloodline, no rank, no background. I wonder how she got in. Probably pulled some strings.”
When Xuan Xi saw the post, she was eating lunch in the cafeteria.
When Elsa handed her the communication slate to look at, her expression was even uglier than Xuan Xi’s own.
“These people are too much,” Elsa said angrily.
“You clearly beat Reggie, but instead of looking at your strength, they’re gossiping about bloodline and background.”
After reading the post with a blank expression, Xuan Xi returned the slate to Elsa.
“It’s fine. I don’t care about these words,” she said.
“You just say ‘it’s fine’?” Elsa’s eyes widened. “They’re badmouthing you!”
“But what they said is indeed the truth,” Xuan Xi said, lowering her head to drink some soup.
“My bloodline column is indeed empty, I indeed have no background, and my family is indeed an ordinary blacksmith family.”
Elsa opened her mouth, hesitated for a while, and finally blurted out, “…That’s not the point, hey!”
Xuan Xi looked up and met Elsa’s dark green eyes, which were full of indignation. Suddenly a warmth surged in her heart.
“Thank you for being angry for me,” she said softly. “But it’s really fine. I’m used to this kind of thing.”
This wasn’t some comforting words; it was the truth. When she was in Border Town, she had heard much harsher words than these.
“Half-breed,” “monster,” “freak”—the vocabulary of those Western Dragon children might not be large, but every word hit the sore spot precisely.
So she had long stopped caring about it. At least, she thought she didn’t care.
At the afternoon training class, Xuan Xi noticed that the looks had changed.
Before, people looked at her mostly out of curiosity.
Now that curiosity was mixed with something else—scrutiny, distance, and occasionally a trace of faint hostility.
As she walked into the training ground, a few girls who were warming up stopped talking and glanced at her sidelong, then quickly looked away as if nothing had happened.
One of them even deliberately took a few steps to the side, as if avoiding something unclean.
This feeling was very familiar to her—the feeling of being isolated, being treated as if she were air.
No one took the initiative to talk to her, no one stood next to her, and even glances carefully avoided her—except for Reggie.
“Are you still going to fight me today?” Reggie walked over with a smile, as if nothing had changed. “I lost to you last time, and I’ve been wanting to get back at you.”
Xuan Xi looked at him, a hint of surprise in her amber eyes.
“Did you not see that post?”
“I saw it,” Reggie shrugged.
“But it wasn’t posted by you, so how is it your fault? Besides, you were the one who beat me, not them. What right do they have to feel indignant on my behalf?”
When he said this, his voice wasn’t exactly low.
Several students around heard it and showed various expressions.
Some lowered their heads, some turned away, and some’s faces changed for a moment, but they held back and didn’t say anything.
Xuan Xi smiled lightly. “Alright, let’s do it once more.”
This time, she lost thoroughly.
It wasn’t because she had become weaker, but because Reggie had changed his tactics. Last time he used pure physical dominance.
This time he had learned: he used elemental power for long-range fire suppression, never giving her a chance to get close.
Reggie’s Earth Element had an absolute advantage at this distance.
Stone spikes and rock chunks rained down like hailstones. Xuan Xi struggled even to maintain human form, let alone engage in close combat.
She was hit in the shoulder by a stone spike, sent flying several meters, fell off the platform, and landed on the ground, half of her body numb.
“Are you okay?” Reggie hurried over, his face full of regret.
“Did I hit too hard? Sorry, sorry!”
Xuan Xi propped herself up to sit, and moved her shoulder.
No broken bones, but the skin around her collarbone had already turned black and blue.
“I’m fine,” she said, but involuntarily winced with a “Hiss.”
She looked up at Reggie and suddenly said very sincerely, “Thank you.”
“Huh? I hurt you and you thank me?”
“You made me see my weakness,” Xuan Xi stood up from the ground and brushed the dust off her clothes.
“Long-range attacks are my blind spot. If I can’t do anything from that distance, I’ll lose even worse against stronger opponents in the future.”
Reggie was stunned for a second, then laughed, his smile carrying a hint of respect.
“You’re quite an interesting person,” he said.
After the training class, Xuan Xi wasn’t in a hurry to leave.
She sat on a bench at the edge of the training ground, sipping healing potion while rubbing her bruised shoulder and replaying the battle in her mind.
Her advantage was obvious—close-quarters combat, using leverage to disrupt the opponent’s rhythm.
Her disadvantage was also obvious: no long-range attack capability. Once others discovered this shortcoming, her defense was practically nonexistent.
There were many problems to solve, but the most urgent one was this: she had to find a way to fill the gap in long-range attacks.
Otherwise, the next time she encountered an opponent as smart as Reggie, she wouldn’t even have a chance to fight back.
But how?
She had no elemental power, so she couldn’t learn breath attacks.
She had no wings, so she couldn’t perform aerial suppression.
The only thing she could rely on was that power she hadn’t yet understood. But that power occasionally surfaced in critical moments, and usually lay quiet as if sleeping.
She had tried to actively mobilize it, but every time it was like grabbing a handful of sand from the air—she couldn’t hold onto anything.
“You look like a wet dog sitting here.”
Xuan Xi looked up and found SigrdrÃfa standing before her, holding a water flask, and saying that not-so-friendly remark with a blank expression.
“…That’s a pretty strange metaphor,” Xuan Xi said.
“What happened to your shoulder?”
“Hit by an attack during training.”
SigrdrÃfa glanced at the bruise on her shoulder, paused for a moment, then unscrewed the cap of the flask and handed it to her.
“Drink some water,” she said.
“Can this water heal wounds?”
“No, it’s just ordinary water. But your lips are chapped.”
Xuan Xi licked her lips subconsciously.
Sure enough, there was a small crack. She took the flask and drank two gulps. The water was warm, as if freshly boiled.
“Thank you.” She returned the flask.
SigrdrÃfa took the flask, screwed the cap back on, and showed no intention of leaving. She stood in front of Xuan Xi like a silver-white marble pillar.
The atmosphere was a bit subtle. After a while, SigrdrÃfa spoke: “Did you see that post?”
“Yes,” Xuan Xi said.
“Do you care?”
Xuan Xi thought for a moment and answered seriously, “I care a little, but not too much.”
SigrdrÃfa lowered her eyes slightly, her eyelashes casting a small shadow under her eyelids.
She seemed to be hesitating about something. In the end, she only said one sentence: “You don’t need to care. What they say has nothing to do with you.”
Then she turned and left. Xuan Xi watched her back gradually fade into the twilight and finally disappear at the exit of the training ground.
She suddenly felt that SigrdrÃfa’s words just now were not so much comfort as stating a fact—a fact that SigrdrÃfa herself firmly believed.
“What they say has nothing to do with you.”
A person who can do that is either extremely indifferent or so strong that they don’t need to care about anyone’s evaluation.
SigrdrÃfa was clearly both. As for herself, she probably still had a long way to go.
Xuan Xi stood up, moved her still-aching shoulder, and headed toward the dormitory.
On the way, she passed the bulletin board and saw a new notice posted: “Freshman placement exams will be held in three weeks. The exam will consist of three parts: theory written test, practical combat, and team cooperation. The results will be used for class placement. All freshmen please prepare.”
Placement basis. Xuan Xi’s eyes lingered on the notice for a few seconds, then she looked away and continued walking.
She knew her current state wasn’t good enough.
If she didn’t want to be assigned to the worst class in the exam, she had to find a way in the next few days to become a little stronger—even just a little would be enough.
When she returned to the dormitory, it was already completely dark.
Xuan Xi pushed open the door and found SigrdrÃfa already in the room.
She was sitting at the desk, books spread open in front of her, writing something on paper with a thin pen.
Hearing the door, she didn’t look up, but the tip of her pen paused for a moment.
Xuan Xi took off her coat and hung it in the wardrobe, then placed the healing potion and bandages on the nightstand.
She sat on her bed, leaned against the pillow, and stared blankly at the ceiling.
She wasn’t sure whether she should speak.
Talking to SigrdrÃfa always required a delicate kind of courage, uncertain whether the other party was willing to be disturbed.
“Your injury.” SigrdrÃfa’s voice suddenly came from behind the screen, still in that flat, emotionless tone.
“If it still hurts tomorrow, remember to go to the infirmary. Don’t bear it alone.”
Xuan Xi turned her head to look at the screen.
The silhouette of the silver-haired woman was reflected on the translucent barrier. She couldn’t see her expression, only a seated outline.
“Okay,” Xuan Xi said.
She paused, then added, “You seemed to have said a lot today.”
The pen tip on the other side of the screen stopped. Silence. A long silence.
So long that Xuan Xi thought the other person wasn’t going to reply, then she heard a sound.
“…Mm.”
Just one word. Then the pen tip started moving again, scratching across the paper at a noticeably faster speed than before.
Xuan Xi stared at the screen for a while, then suddenly smiled silently.
She turned over, faced the wall, and closed her eyes.
Moonlight from outside the window seeped through the gaps in the curtains.
On both sides of the screen, each lost in their own thoughts, the two gradually sank into their respective dreams in the quiet night.