A golden-robed emissary descended upon Twilight Academy, his boots never touching the ground. Two phoenix sigils blazed on his chest—symbol of the Supreme Council.
His name was Shen Wuheng, a Core Formation genius known for suppressing three sect rebellions single-handedly. He didn't knock on doors—he broke them.
But now, he stood quietly outside Class D's courtyard.
Han Li was plucking weeds from a flowerbed.
"You're the janitor?" Shen asked, voice laced with disbelief.
Han Li didn't look up. "No. I'm the one who makes sure things stay clean."
Shen smirked. "Cute. I'm here to assess your… 'teaching.' They say your students defeated Class C."
"They say a lot," Han Li replied.
Shen stepped closer. "I'll spar with one of your students. If they survive, I'll leave with respect. If not—your methods are banned."
Han Li finally looked up. "If you insist."
He turned toward the training field. "Jian Mo."
The quiet talisman boy looked up from his scrolls. "Me, Teacher?"
"Try not to kill him."
Jian Mo gulped, stepped into the arena.
Shen Wuheng smiled and raised his hand. "Don't blink."
Lightning cracked down like divine judgment.
But before it landed, Jian Mo waved a single rune.
BOOM.
The arena lit with ethereal fire, deflecting the bolt and sending shockwaves through the sky.
Shen was forced back five steps, eyes wide. "What… kind of rune was that?"
Jian Mo bowed. "One I made last night… from Master Han's notes."
Shen stared at Han Li. His golden eyes narrowed.
"…Who are you?"
Han Li dusted his sleeves. "A janitor. Nothing more."
But Shen felt it. That invisible weight pressing down. A terrifying truth hidden beneath layers of peace.
He left without another word.