You and Gu Yue Can Stay Here
Tianfeng Douluo's eyebrows had arched slightly at Yao Xuan's declaration, a flicker of incredulity passing through her keen eyes. Her posture, which had been relaxed in her ornate chair, shifted forward. One elegantly manicured finger tapped a silent, thoughtful rhythm on the polished surface of her desk.
"Forging?" she repeated, the word leaving her lips with a tinge of dismissive skepticism. "What would a Soul Master of your… particular caliber want with a hammer and anvil?" She made a slight, waving gesture with her other hand, as if brushing away the very idea. "The refinement of mecha, the elegance of design theory—these are pursuits worthy of a future Battle Armor Master. They expand the mind in ways brute-force craftsmanship does not."
Yao Xuan felt the weight of her disapproval, not as a blow, but as a pressure in the quiet room. He didn't flinch or look away. Instead, he drew a steadying breath, his own hands relaxing at his sides. He needed to make her see, not just hear.
"Teacher, I understand your perspective," he began, his voice level and respectful. "But I must humbly disagree. The path of the forger isn't merely about brute force." He raised his right hand, turning it over to study his own palm as if seeing the memory of held metal there. "It's about listening. Feeling the hidden flaws within a slab of ore, sensing the precise moment of transformation under heat and pressure. It's creation through disciplined destruction. My teacher, the Eight-Star Saint Craftsman Mu Chen of Donghai City, saw… a flicker of that aptitude. Under his guidance, I have reached the standard of a fourth-rank forger."
The tapping finger on the desk stopped dead.
Tianfeng Douluo's eyes widened a fraction. Her head tilted, the earlier dismissal evaporating into sharp, reassessing focus. "Mu Chen? The Mu Chen?" Her gaze swept over Yao Xuan anew, from his calm face down to his seemingly ordinary hands, as if trying to spot the telltale sparks of a prodigy. "And fourth-rank? At your age?" A low hum of surprise escaped her. She leaned back slowly, the leather of her chair creaking softly. The stern line of her mouth softened into something more contemplative.
Yao Xuan saw the shift. He pressed on, grounding his claim in tangible fact. "Yes, Teacher. I passed Master Mu's personal assessment. The rank is not publicly declared—on his orders, for my protection from prying eyes, especially those with ill intent. On the records, I remain a second-rank forger. But I swear to you, it is the truth. You may confirm it with Master Mu himself."
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant, muffled hum of the Spirit Pagoda's energy systems through the walls. Tianfeng Douluo's eyes lost their focus on Yao Xuan, looking instead at some middle distance as her mind rapidly connected new pieces. 'Mu Chen. His senior brother is Zhen Hua, the Divine Craftsman. The only source of Heaven-Forged Metal for four-word battle armor…' Her strategic mind, honed over decades, immediately mapped the implications. A disciple of that lineage… that was not a simple career choice. It was a strategic alignment of immense future value.
A slow, genuine smile finally broke through her pensive expression. She shook her head slightly, a gesture of surrendered argument and dawning admiration. "Well. It seems I have underestimated both your resolve and your connections, Yao Xuan." She chuckled, a warm, rich sound. "To be taken in by Mu Chen and reach such a height so young… 'aptitude' is too modest a word. Forge on, then. With that foundation, the path to crafting your own battle armor in the future may indeed be smoother than for most."
The tension in the room dissolved completely. Yao Xuan felt his own shoulders loosen, and he offered a small, respectful bow of his head. "Thank you for your understanding, Teacher."
"There is nothing to thank. I am your teacher, not your jailer. My role is to clear obstacles, not create them," she said, her tone now warmly matter-of-fact. She straightened some papers on her desk with a crisp motion. "Now, to practical matters. Your performance in the Spirit Tower entitles you to a significant rank advancement. For safety and discretion, I will promote you to third-rank Transmission Master for now. The full rewards will be… disbursed gradually."
She looked up, her eyes moving from Yao Xuan to Gu Yue, who had been observing the entire exchange with her characteristic silent intensity. "The production of your new identity badge will take about a week. During that time," she said, a note of genuine, almost maternal offer entering her voice, "you and Gu Yue may remain here as my guests. It would be my pleasure to provide some direct guidance to my new student. Consider it… an intensive tutorial."
Excitement sparked in Yao Xuan's chest. Direct, personal instruction from a powerhouse nearing the Limit Douluo threshold? It was an unparalleled opportunity. He and Gu Yue both bowed in unison. "Thank you for your care, Teacher!" Yao Xuan said, unable to keep the eager edge from his voice.
Tianfeng Douluo waved a hand, her smile indulgent. "Enough formality. Gu Yue is accustomed to my ways. Yao Xuan, relax. See me as a mentor, not just a title." She then glanced at a chronometer on the wall and rose from her seat. "I have obligations this morning. Gu Yue," she said, turning to the silver-haired girl, "please show Yao Xuan to the guest quarters. Familiarize him with our advancement protocols and the Pagoda's general layout. We will reconvene for the midday meal."
"Understood, Teacher," Gu Yue replied, her voice a cool, clear note in the room.
With a final nod to Tianfeng Douluo, Yao Xuan turned to follow Gu Yue out. As they reached the door, Gu Yue's hand reached back almost instinctively. Her fingers found his, not in a grip, but with a light, purposeful touch that guided him across the threshold. It was a simple, efficient action, yet the contact sent a familiar, steadying current through him—a silent communication that grounded the whirlwind of new possibilities.
Her hand released his once they were in the hallway, but the echo of the touch remained, a tangible reminder of their shared, quiet understanding as they stepped into the gleaming, bustling heart of the Spirit Pagoda headquarters together.