School Bullying

Order Era, Year 1136.

Xia Lun and his two companions strolled leisurely across the campus grounds.

Xia Lun deliberately slowed his pace. Aina’s steps were light, almost floating, yet carried an air of grace. Liyana walked with her hands in her pockets, exuding an unbothered, defiant swagger.

"Hey, Xia Lun, I’ve been thinking about something since yesterday’s class," Liyana suddenly stopped and blurted out.

"Oh?"

"Your exploits… how exactly did people find out about them?" Liyana couldn’t help but ask. "Forget the exaggerated rumors, but some of the stories are true, right? Aside from our team, no one should’ve known… Yet those tales have somehow survived for over a thousand years."

Xia Lun fell into thought.

He had pondered Liyana’s question before.

It was indeed baffling that his deeds were still being celebrated after more than a millennium.

"Was it Moke who spread them?" Liyana mused. "Maybe he sang your praises as a bard."

Xia Lun’s mind drifted to a familiar figure.

Moke, their team’s bard and part-time thief.

Xia Lun shook his head. "Moke was human, just like me. He couldn’t have lived this long, and he didn’t have that kind of influence."

"Xia Lun! Moke, who passed away a thousand years ago, would be heartbroken to hear you say that!" Liyana lamented dramatically.

"Even if he came back to life, I’d still say the same thing," Xia Lun replied flatly. "Liyana, you have to admit… while he was a skilled thief, as a bard, he wasn’t even third-rate."

"Poor Moke… still getting roasted by his own teammates a millennium later," Liyana sighed, shaking her head.

"If it wasn’t Moke, then how did it happen? So weird," Liyana scratched her head in confusion.

"Ahem, yes, very weird indeed," Aina echoed, nodding in agreement—or perhaps emphasizing something.

Xia Lun and Liyana’s expressions turned peculiar.

"Was it you, Aina?" Xia Lun asked uncertainly. "Did you spread my stories?"

"Correct, Xia Lun, but no reward for guessing right now," Aina chuckled behind her hand, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"Why would you do that?" Xia Lun flushed slightly. "It’s kind of embarrassing."

"You’re my husband, of course you deserve to be immortalized and celebrated," Aina said, intertwining her fingers with his. "There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve earned it."

"What about me, Aina? What about me?" Liyana interjected, her tone tinged with jealousy. "We’re sisters too, right? I wouldn’t mind being famous like Xia Lun, hailed as a great hero…"

"But you’re still alive, aren’t you?" Aina shot her a glance, leaving Liyana speechless.

Aina then countered, "Besides, which of your exploits would you like to be remembered for? Nearly drowning while flirting with the Lady of the Lake, or getting mind-controlled by a seductive flower spirit?"

"Heh…" Liyana scratched her head sheepishly. She had indeed caused plenty of trouble back in the day.

Xia Lun was the undisputed MVP; she was just along for the ride.

As they turned a corridor corner, Xia Lun suddenly pointed at a sign on a door. "What’s this room?"

The sign depicted a blue stick figure.

"Oh, that’s the lavatory," Liyana replied. "Only in Olifant Academy—even the restrooms are gender-segregated now."

"I see." Spotting the pink stick figure on the opposite door, Xia Lun immediately understood. He gestured toward the men’s lavatory. "I’ll take a look inside."

It wasn’t out of necessity—Xia Lun was simply curious about the novelties of this era.

Inside, he found the space divided into several private stalls, each door engraved with a basic soundproofing spell.

Xia Lun pushed one open and stepped in.

The stall was compact but impeccably clean, devoid of any unpleasant odors.

Everyone… needed to answer nature’s call.

However, for high-tier cultivators, bodily waste was minimal—most energy was efficiently utilized, drastically reducing the frequency of such needs.

The truly powerful could even vaporize metabolic byproducts with mana, eliminating the need for excretion altogether.

Xia Lun’s visit was purely exploratory, so after a glance, he prepared to leave.

But suddenly, a figure emerged from his shadow.

"Aina… what are you doing here?" Xia Lun asked, startled. "This is the men’s lavatory."

Aina smiled faintly. "Nothing much. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed by the unfamiliar surroundings… Glad to see you’re fine."

The stall was cramped, with little room to move. Aina pressed herself against Xia Lun, blocking the exit.

A sense of foreboding crept into Xia Lun’s heart. With Aina barring the door, escape seemed impossible.

"By the way, since it’s quiet here… would you like your promised reward now, my hero?"

Aina coiled around him, her lips claiming his with predatory hunger. Her slender hands roamed his body, testing his limits.

The oppressive aura of the Demon Queen left Xia Lun powerless to resist.

THUD—

A heavy impact sounded outside, as if something—or someone—had crashed to the floor.

Aina’s expression darkened as she reluctantly pulled away.

"Filthy trash!"

"Know your place, commoner!"

"I could crush you like an insect!"

The voices were followed by the unmistakable sounds of a beating.

Xia Lun’s brow furrowed. He pushed the door open.

Three lavishly dressed youths were kicking and punching a boy in rough-spun clothes.

Xia Lun recognized two of them—the victim was Mian, the standout from the entrance exams, while among the assailants was none other than Young Master Kahn of the Stark Family.

Spotting Xia Lun, Kahn and his lackeys froze.

"What’re you staring at? Want a beating too?" one of the thugs snarled.

Kahn promptly slapped him.

"Young Master Kahn?" The struck underling looked dazed.

Then Aina stepped out from the same stall behind Xia Lun.

The boys’ faces twisted with disbelief.

"Isn’t this the men’s room?"

"Why’s that woman in here?"

"Did they just come out of the same stall?"

The implications dawned on them. They exchanged stunned glances.

These two… doing that in a lavatory? Definitely not people to mess with.

"Let’s go."

The leader, Kahn, cast a wary glance at Xia Lun before turning away without a word, his lackeys quickly following suit.