In the center of the academy was a small lake. Amon sat leisurely on a flat stone by the water, gazing at its rippling surface.
A gentle breeze blew, the water shimmered, and a few plump ducks splashed around playfully.
"Give me back my stuff, Amon!" Yan Jin stormed over, her little face radiating anger.
"Hm? You mean this?" Amon tossed a money pouch lightly, smiling at her. "I thought this was my money pouch."
The gold soul coins inside clinked melodiously.
These were the coins Amon had "pocketed" from her earlier during the combat class.
"Only part of it is yours! The rest… I worked hard to steal—earn!—so give it back!" Yan Jin snapped.
"Can't do that. I earned it fair and square—why should I return it?"
"You… what do you want from me?"
"Stealing isn't a good habit," Amon lectured, shaking his head.
You're even more skilled than me!
Yan Jin opened her mouth but couldn't form words to argue.
She gave up trying to negotiate with words. A fierce glint appeared in her eyes as she muttered, "Then I guess we'll settle this with fists."
Suddenly, she struck. A red glow burst forth as a small orb of molten magma appeared in her palm.
Even without any soul rings attached, and even though she couldn't fully control it, simply revealing it like this showcased her martial soul's tremendous destructive power.
"Magma…" Amon's expression stiffened slightly. He raised his hand to meet it, activating his soul bone ability, turning his soul energy into a protective layer over his palm.
To withstand the heat, he poured in a substantial amount of soul power. The transparent soul energy now carried a faint gray tint.
"You're crazy!" Yan Jin had only intended to scare him, not cause harm.
Originally, she planned to retract her martial soul at the last moment, but Amon's unexpected move caught her off guard. They made contact before she could react.
To her astonishment, his fair-skinned hand gripped her martial soul as if it were an ordinary stone.
"What? You can withstand magma's heat? How… how are you doing this?" Yan Jin's pupils shrank, disbelief in her voice.
Amon didn't answer, only smiling.
In reality, it wasn't easy. While materializing soul energy doesn't consume much, the magma continuously eroded his soul power, forcing him to maintain a constant output to keep the protective layer intact.
Yan Jin retracted her martial soul, her expression softening slightly. Then she suddenly slid forward, kneeling and hugging Amon's calf.
"Teacher, please… take me as your disciple."
Amon froze. He had only intended to tease her a little; he hadn't planned on going this far. Her reaction far exceeded his expectations.
"You want me to take you as a disciple… do you mean you want me to teach you…"
"Yes! Teach me how to quietly slip other people's wealth into my pocket," she said earnestly, hands clasped.
"I'm a teacher, not a street thief. Do you really think I'd teach that?"
"I'm a student. Why can't I learn a teacher's skills?"
"Tell me about yourself first."
"My name is Yan Jin. I'm seven years old, a Level 9 Soul Master, Martial Soul: Magma, with innate Level 8 soul power. I have eight subordinates. People on the streets call me 'Little Chief Qu.'" She puffed up her chest proudly, clearly fond of her nickname.
"'Little Chief Qu' is a title given to respected leaders within the city's worker gangs. It's basically like a boss or head. Criminal organizations also use the same title for their leaders."
Amon realized she must be the leader of a small theft gang.
"Why this line of work? The academy has work-study programs, right? With your talent, you could quickly reach the Soul Master level. Then you'd get a stipend of one gold soul coin per month from the Martial Soul Hall. It's not extravagant, but enough for daily life," he asked skeptically.
"Well… I kinda like it like this," Yan Jin's gaze drifted a little.
"Hasn't anyone tried to take you as a disciple with your talent?"
"There was an old guy from the Martial Soul Hall who asked, but life's complicated. For various reasons, I refused… I have to stay in Frostleaf City."
"Suit yourself. Everyone chooses their own path. Just make sure you won't regret it later."
Amon took his portion of the coins and tossed the rest to her.
"Thank you, Teacher!" Yan Jin took them with delight, relieved she wouldn't have to go without.
"As for taking you as a disciple… I'll need to verify a few things first," Amon said, adjusting his monocle.
Later, Amon found Lu Wencong to ask about Yan Jin.
"Director Lu, with her talent, isn't she a prime candidate for training? Why hasn't anyone taken her?"
Lu Wencong shook his head. "Magma martial soul, innate Level 8 soul power—she's a once-in-ten-years talent. But she once refused a prominent figure from the Martial Soul Hall and angered them. After that, nobody approached her for a while."
"The dean originally planned to wait a year or two, then ask her again once people forgot. But she kept mingling with street thugs, committing illegal acts. We turned a blind eye, but nobody expected much from her after that."
A hint of regret lingered in his voice.
"I see," Amon nodded knowingly. "Can you tell me more about the Martial Soul Hall? I'm curious about the top Soul Master organization on this continent."
"The Martial Soul Hall…" Lu Wencong's face grew complex. "They've been a hope for ordinary Soul Masters and contributed much to the continent's development. But as their influence grew, they gradually became an unstable factor within the empire."
He paused, realizing he had said too much, careful not to reveal too much openly.
Amon, seemingly unaware, mused aloud, "The Pope must be a very powerful Soul Master…"
"Of course. Weaklings have no right to lead the Martial Soul Hall."
"Who's the current Pope? My father mentioned someone… can't remember… maybe Prince Qianxunji?"
"That was six years ago. The current Pope is Bibi Dong, the disciple of Prince Qianxunji."
"Six years ago?"
"Yes. The Pope changed then, and a lot happened. Curious about that little troublemaker, Yan Jin? If you want to know which Martial Soul Hall figure she offended, I can't say."
Amon shook his head, smiling.
Six years… Tang San would have been around six then. The story was just beginning; there was plenty of time, he thought.