Chapter 1: Master and Apprentice

Zhou Yao died at 4:17 AM.

The desk lamp was still on, the coffee had gone cold, and stacks of test papers were spread across the desk.

The 18-year-old high school senior had thirty-three days left until the college entrance exam—he had been staring blankly at a complex geometry problem combining ellipses and vectors, his pen tip digging into the scratch paper.

No matter how he drew it, the final auxiliary line felt wrong.

The sound of rain outside mingled with the dull echo of old pipes.

He tried to stand up for a glass of water, but his hand trembled so violently he couldn’t grip the cup.

His heart suddenly constricted.

He remembered his mother saving money on groceries again during dinner that evening to buy an online course, leaving nothing but pickles in her own bowl.

She had said, “Mom isn’t tired. Just focus on your studies,” but she coughed so hard at night she couldn’t sleep, though she never let him hear it.

‘Just one more night. Just one.’

Then, the light came.

It wasn’t the darkness of a power outage, nor was it a hallucination.

A pinkish-gold light descended from the ceiling, enveloping him, searing through his bones, and crushing his memories.

A voice spoke at the very end, but he couldn’t hear what it said—his consciousness simply shattered.

He only remembered that in that final moment, something incredibly important floated up from the depths of his heart.

Before he could grasp it, the light swallowed him whole.

***

When she woke up, her fingertips first touched icy stream water.

She opened her mouth to cry out, but the sound that emerged startled her—it was clear and cold, like spring water striking stone.

She looked down at her hands.

They were slender and delicate, her nails shimmering with a pearly luster.

Faint silver patterns were visible near her knuckles.

Staggering to her feet, she threw herself toward the water’s edge.

The reflection in the water was that of a silver-haired elven girl with pointed ears.

Her eyes were like cold stars, with a galaxy seemingly swirling deep within her cerulean pupils.

Her skin was so pale it was almost transparent.

On her lower abdomen, a pink Magic Rose glowed with a faint heat, like a freshly branded mark.

“Who am I?”

A name surfaced in her mind: Xueyin Yueling.

It was a residual memory of this body.

She tried to recall her original face—Zhou Yao.

Solving problems, memorizing vocabulary, being nagged by his mom to stop slouching—but that face felt like it was behind frosted glass, blurry and distant, as if *that* was the hallucination.

“The Divine Covenant is complete. Your name is Xueyin Yueling.”

The voice echoed in her head, cold and indifferent.

‘That’s not me.’

She was Zhou Yao.

At the very least, the depths of her soul stubbornly insisted so.

But the gods did not care.

On this continent known as Arad, Xueyin Yueling was a real girl, while “Zhou Yao” had perhaps died long before that light ever descended.

***

Three years later, Ashen Town.

The wind in this border town was always thick with grit.

Xueyin knelt behind a medicine stall, her fingertips crushing a dried blood-stanching herb into the powder in a coarse ceramic bowl.

This was her third order of the day—cheap medicine to treat a miner’s cracked hands.

It cost three copper coins, just enough to buy half a loaf of rye bread.

Three years.

She had learned to hide a dagger under her pillow, to distinguish between the footsteps of a miner and a mercenary, and to turn her body to clear her field of vision before looking up when someone approached—the instinct of prey facing a predator.

The one thing she could never learn was to look at her reflection in the water without falling into a daze.

She never ventured more than 8 miles from the town.

She didn’t visit taverns or enter the main markets.

She even intentionally let her cloak get covered in mud so that mercenaries with greasy gazes would find her too filthy to bother with.

Her dark gray cloak never left her body, the hood pulled low enough to reveal only her eyes.

She only hunted the lowest-grade Shadowclaws—their fur fetched two silver coins, and their mana cores could be crushed and mixed into stanching powder as filler.

She actually knew how to make better things: purifying mana core essences, concocting rapid-healing salves, or brewing camouflage potions to hide one’s presence.

She had already mastered alchemy.

But she never did it.

If she made something good, she would be targeted.

In this world of Arad, the Human and Demon Realms had been at odds for a millennium, and neither side was kind.

The Human Realm was full of talk about laws and order.

The Royal Court, the Church, and the Magic Association each had their own pretty words—yet the slaves in Ashen Town bore the brand of merchant guilds on their necks, and unregistered beastfolk were locked in black market cellars.

The Demon Realm was more straightforward: bloodline was law, and strength was everything.

She had seen the fate of captured rare races.

At the Ashen Town black market, she had seen a half-elf girl dragged across the floor—her ears matted with blood, a guild mark branded on her neck.

The girl’s eyes were wide, and she was gagged, unable to make a sound.

She was gone by the next day.

The guild members said she “sold for a good price.”

And she, with that pink Magic Rose on her abdomen, bore the mark of a Magical Girl—an unmistakable sign that was hard to hide and warm to the touch.

It was said that fewer than 100 of them existed on the entire continent.

Their ends were never gentle: dying on the battlefield, living in anonymity, or being severely corrupted during combat to become an “Erosion Thrall.”

It was less of a divine blessing and more of a curse.

That wasn’t even the worst part.

Her mana wasn’t at all what a normal mage’s should be.

The last time she had used it in private, what surged from her palm wasn’t ordinary white light, but a pinkish-gold radiance flecked with silver stardust.

When that light hit the barren earth, it actually caused sprouts to grow—the creative power of the High Elves.

Today, a living High Elf was worth a fortune on the black market.

The Human Magic Association claimed they provided “protective custody,” but in reality, they locked them in dungeons to study their bloodlines.

A Magical Girl plus a High Elf—she didn’t want to know what hellish end awaited her if she were captured alive.

So, she only hunted the lowest monsters, made the trashiest potions, and earned the smallest amount of money, living like a common grain of dust.

In three years of frugal living, she had saved only seventeen silver coins and three copper coins, hidden in an iron box inside a crack in the wall.

Until that evening.

She had just closed her stall and was about to return to her shack when she heard suppressed sobbing at the end of the alley.

Following the sound, she saw a small figure curled up by a pile of trash, covered in blood, her left leg twisted at a grotesque angle.

It was a girl, maybe 12 or 13-year-old, with a Red Scorpion Guild slave number branded on her wrist.

Xueyin should have turned and walked away.

Over these three years, she had seen countless runaway slaves, each instance filled with heartache and helplessness.

‘Leave,’ her logic screamed.

‘If you leave, you stay safe. You’ve hidden well for three years.’

But her feet didn’t move.

She was fed up.

Fed up with living like a rat in hiding, fed up with nights where there was no one else to talk to, fed up with splitting every meal into three portions.

Maybe there wasn’t a complex reason—just like how someone might help an old person who fell, or might not.

It all depended on how much of their soul hadn’t been ground away in that moment.

By the time she snapped back to her senses, she was already kneeling in front of the girl.

“Don’t make a sound,” she whispered, quickly taking off her cloak to cover the girl.

“Can you walk?”

The girl shook her head.

“They’re looking for me…”

Xueyin gritted her teeth and leaned down to pick her up.

She was so light she felt like nothing but a bag of bones.

Avoiding the main streets, Xueyin picked her way through narrow alleys, her heart beating so fast it felt like it would shatter her ribs.

Back at the shack, she lit her only candle and cut away the girl’s pant leg.

A fracture, severe infection, and massive blood loss.

If she didn’t use magic or a high-grade potion, the girl wouldn’t last the night.

“Please!”

The girl grabbed her hand.

“I don’t want to die!”

Xueyin closed her eyes.

She knew the consequences.

Once she activated the covenant, the mana signature would light up the entire block like a beacon.

But if she did nothing, this child was dead.

She quickly planned an escape route: heal her, then head out of town through the back alley drainage ditch and circle around the checkpoint via the Western Barrens.

“Close your eyes,” she finally said.

Her hands covered the wounded leg as she whispered an incantation she had never used:

“By the name of moonfeather, heal this body!”

In an instant, the Magic Rose on her abdomen burned fiercely.

Pinkish-gold light surged from her palms, mingled with silver stardust.

Right then, the girl in her arms suddenly opened her eyes, her pupils turning a haunting gray.

“Sister, it’s so good of you to save me,” her voice said, hollow as an abyss.

Xueyin’s heart went cold.

‘Erosion Core infection… this girl is already a puppet!’

Before she could react, the girl’s hands clamped around her throat and began to drain her mana in reverse!

Xueyin struggled, plunging her dagger into the girl’s shoulder blade, but it felt like stabbing something lifeless.

She understood instantly: it was a trap.

But she couldn’t figure out—when had she been exposed?

The door to the shack was kicked open.

Two hunters from the Red Scorpion Guild stormed in, kicking the puppet girl aside.

“All that time keeping the concealment magic up was worth the wait.”

One of them stared at Xueyin as if looking at a piece of cargo he already owned.

Xueyin leaned against the wall, over half her mana drained, her hand trembling as she held her short dagger.

She was never good at close combat—for three years, she had relied on stealth, poisons, and traps, not frontal assaults.

*Crash!*

A piece of the roof suddenly collapsed, and a dark figure slammed heavily onto one of the hunter’s backs!

“Arrgh!”

The Red Scorpion hunter screamed as he was pinned to the ground.

But the dark figure had also taken a hard fall; he rolled a few times, coughed up blood, and a wound on his left arm tore open, blood soaking his white clothes.

Xueyin finally got a clear look at him: slightly curly black hair and pupils dark red like dried blood.

A faded cloth strip was wrapped around his left wrist, soaked in blood with charred edges.

‘Now!’

Xueyin seized the fleeting chaos.

She whipped out a second dagger from her boot.

Taking advantage of the hunters’ distraction, she slit one throat and stabbed the other straight through the heart—her movements so fast the muscles in her arms screamed with pain.

The two hunters collapsed, blood pooling into the cracks of the stone floor.

The demon struggled to push himself up, staring at her blankly.

He opened his mouth.

“You…”

Xueyin didn’t answer.

She pressed her dagger against his lower back, her voice cold as ice.

“Move.”

He didn’t resist, dropping his hands to show he had no hostile intent.

Xueyin had no time to ask for a name or negotiate terms.

The only goal now: escape Ashen Town.

But she didn’t just run.

With the utmost speed, she pulled the iron box from the wall—seventeen silver coins and three copper coins—and stuffed them into a leather pouch close to her body.

She also gathered the mana concealment powder, cheap potions, and three days of dried rations from the bottom shelf.

“Keep up. Don’t make a sound,” she said coldly, diving into the drainage ditch first.

***

The next two hours were the tensest moments of Xueyin’s three years.

She led the demon around every checkpoint, traveling specifically through drainage ditches and collapsed ruins.

Every 500 steps, she scattered a handful of mana concealment powder.

The demon stumbled several times, and she watched coldly until he nearly fell and exposed them.

Only then did she grab his arm.

“If you want to live, shut up and keep up.”

Before dawn, they finally climbed over the north wall of Ashen Town and stepped into the wilderness.

Xueyin stopped, looking back at the mana fires rising at the town entrance—the Red Scorpion Guild had locked down the entire town.

She breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately tensed up again.

But at least they were out.

“What’s your name?”

She finally asked.

“Jin,” he answered weakly.

The bluish-black discoloration on his left arm had already spread to his shoulder blade—the symptom of an Erosion Core infection.

If not treated within 72 hours, death was certain.

“Why did you help me?”

“Because I’m also a fugitive,” he said, looking her in the eye.

“And you’re the only person who can get me out of here alive right now.”

After a moment of silence, she suddenly asked, “What were you doing on the roof?”

Jin froze for a second, then lowered his gaze.

“I heard a commotion and wanted to see if there was an opportunity.”

He paused, his voice getting lower.

“I needed someone who could take me away from here, someone who could treat my wounds instead of selling me to the guild.”

“So it was all a coincidence?”

“Yes.”

He looked up at her, no flicker of evasion in his dark red pupils.

“I could have chosen not to jump. But I did.”

Xueyin stared at him for a long time without asking more.

Jin panted, pulling an oil-stained parchment map from his chest.

“I escaped from the Red Desert through the abandoned mine shafts. There’s an old path no one knows about. I drew a map.”

Xueyin’s pupils shrank.

‘The abandoned mines!’

That was the escape route she had dreamed of—no patrols, no mana sensors, leading straight to the Red Desert.

“What can you do?”

“Low-tier magic—light, breeze, and fireballs. I can cook and keep watch. I can sew, identify poisons, and recognize herbs.”

He paused.

“Does serving tea count?”

Xueyin blinked, not expecting that last part.

She opened her mouth to say “It counts,” but felt it wasn’t right. Finally, she just looked away.

“I want someone who won’t be a burden.”

Jin nodded and said nothing more.

Xueyin’s mind raced with calculations.

‘Should I drive him away? He just saved me and is heavily injured; leaving him here is a death sentence. Take him with me? He has the map, but what if he has other motives?’

But if he was lying, he would die of the Erosion Core infection within 72 hours anyway—a natural loyalty period.

More importantly—he had already seen it.

A Magical Girl plus a High Elf; that secret was a death sentence if leaked.

Rather than letting him roam free to talk, it was better to keep him tied to her side where she could watch him.

“Listen,” she finally spoke, her tone harsh.

“I can take you with me. But right now, I only trust contracts, and I have three rules. First, don’t ask about my past. Second, don’t use any magic or weapons without permission. Third, if I find out you’ve lied to me, I’ll kick you out immediately, regardless of whether you live or die.”

“I agree.”

He paused.

“But I have one request—don’t make it a slave contract. I’d rather die than wear a collar.”

Xueyin narrowed her eyes.

A slave contract.

She had seen what happened to people who wore those collars—their eyes went hollow, as if they had been dead for a long time.

“What a coincidence,” she said.

“I’d also rather die than sell people.”

She took a piece of parchment from her pack—a blank contract she had prepared years ago for an emergency.

She sliced her fingertip with a dagger and let a drop of blood fall.

“A contract in Arad works through resonance. For a violator, the blood in their body will flow backward and burn their veins—at best, it destroys their mana; at worst, their body explodes. Think carefully.”

Jin didn’t hesitate.

He also cut his finger, letting his blood drop onto the paper to merge with hers.

In an instant, golden lines surfaced on the paper, forming two lines of text:

[Master-Disciple Contract]

Master: Xueyin Yueling

Disciple: Jin

The contract was sealed.

Jin suddenly smiled.

“Master, once my wounds are healed, I’ll cook you something delicious for our first meal.”

Xueyin didn’t respond, tucking the contract into a hidden pocket close to her body—the place closest to her heart, and also the easiest place to tear it apart.

She turned to face the depths of the wilderness.

“If you have any other ideas…”

She paused, her hand resting on her dagger hilt.

“Make sure you’re thorough. Otherwise, I’ll make sure the Red Scorpions catch you alive.”

Jin was silent for a moment, then whispered, “I’ll remember that, Master.”

He didn’t fully trust her.

She didn’t fully trust him.

And that was exactly how strangers should start in a chaotic world.

That night, she wrote the final line in a tattered ledger:

*Expenses: Mana concealment powder (3 silver coins), Dagger wear and tear (1 silver coin)*

*Cash Balance: 17 silver, 3 copper*

After writing, she hesitated, then used her sleeve to gently cover the faded words on the cover—”Zhou Yao’s Senior Year Sprint Plan.”

The wind and sand were too strong; she was afraid they would be worn away.

As the wind swept over the plains, Jin asked softly, “Were you just humming a song?”

Xueyin started but didn’t answer.

She only then realized she had unconsciously hummed a melody—gentle and ancient, like a forest stream.

Jin closed his eyes.

Earlier, when Xueyin’s pinkish-gold mana had erupted, the cloth on his left wrist had suddenly burned like a hot iron.

A violent power had nearly broken the seal—in that moment, his pupils had turned molten gold, and fragments of memory had cut into his mind like blades.

But he was more afraid that if she knew who he was, she wouldn’t have even given him that piece of paper.

And Xueyin could only pretend she couldn’t hear the song this body was singing—

“Silver moonlight falls upon the ancient tree…”

It wasn’t her memory, but this body remembered it.