As a new student, Nie Qi was surrounded by a group of male students all asking her questions.
From start to finish, Nie Qi maintained her elegance, responding to each person one by one with a gentle tone. She was like a canary that had just flown out of its nest, her voice sweet and captivating.
“Huh? What’s going on over there?” Nie Qi’s gaze quickly caught sight of Yilu and Beiyao already locked in a struggle.
The others followed her look, glanced once, and lost interest.
“It’s Yilu and Beiyao again. Their families have some old grudge, so they’re always going at each other.”
At least that was how it seemed to them. The two couldn’t stand each other, and they had scenes like this almost every few days.
“This time, Beiyao will probably win again. She’s from a swordsmanship family. Her previous sword instructor almost lost to her.”
Expecting the outcome, everyone naturally thought along those lines.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Nie Qi smiled. “Maybe things will be different this time.”
As if to confirm her words, Beiyao, who had always suppressed Yilu before, was now being suppressed herself.
Yilu’s eyes were bloodshot, her teeth bared.
Beiyao had seen Yilu angry before. She had even enjoyed provoking her, watching her struggle in vain before being defeated.
But now, she noticed something different.
The Yilu before her was like a wild beast. Every attack was as if she were aiming to tear into her throat—deadly and dangerous.
“She seems… different from before.”
Beiyao was a bit intimidated by Yilu’s ferocity.
“Disappear… just die!”
Yilu panted heavily. Every strike was like a beast pouncing on its prey, unwilling to stop until she saw the prey’s breath cease.
She had been tormented by that twisted, distorted image for too long. Her nerves were already on the verge of breaking.
When a person is trapped in a painful situation they can’t escape, their suppressed rationality slowly fades, and venting without restraint becomes the only way out.
Either break through the gap by letting it out, or sink into the depths of that despair.
“Yes, that’s it.” While everyone was captivated by the duel, a glint of excitement flashed in Nie Qi’s eyes. “The Baptism of Blood is always the first step for a witch. It will transform you.”
In just a few moments, Yilu had pushed Beiyao back with great effort.
Beiyao even wondered if she was facing not her former loser, but a beast in human skin.
Clang! The long sword in Beiyao’s hand was knocked away.
In principle, the duel should have ended there. But Yilu didn’t let up, thrusting her blade toward Beiyao.
In Yilu’s eyes, that mass of flesh and sinew—that indescribable thing—was retreating step by step, showing her a terrified expression.
She had to destroy it, to make it disappear from her sight, to stop tormenting her mind.
Kill it! Fight violence with violence!
Negative emotions surged like a tide, pressing down on the back of Yilu’s hand like countless invisible hands, pushing her forward.
“Miss Yilu!” Tif cried out in alarm.
If that blow actually landed, there would be no explaining this away.
Beiyao, frightened, fell to the ground, forgetting to dodge for a moment.
No matter how skilled her swordsmanship, she had never used it in real combat. Her blade had never seen the blood of a beast or a life cut short.
All her duels growing up had been friendly bouts, like decorative clothing—ornamental and useless.
Just as the blade was about to strike, a figure rushed in and caught the blade with bare hands.
Blood splattered, staining Beiyao’s face and sending her into a faint.
But Yilu, eyes wide, still refused to stop. She glared at the person blocking her—it was Lyr, the only one who remained normal in her twisted, distorted world.
Lyr looked back at Yilu, shock written across his face.
Reflected in her eyes, besides Lyr himself, he saw a blood-red, twisted world.
“A curse.”
What he had feared most had come to pass.
After that day, he had specifically asked Yilu if she felt anything off with her body.
At the time, Yilu hadn’t indicated anything, so he had relaxed.
Now, he realized he was wrong. Things were far from simple—in fact, they were only just beginning.
“Yilu, calm down. It’s me. I’m Lyr.” Lyr tried to snap her out of it.
But Yilu still hadn’t come to her senses. She just stared blankly at Lyr’s bloodied hand.
In her distorted world, the only thing that had remained whole and in its original form was now stained with blood that filled her with fear.
Her breath stopped for a moment, unable to catch up. Utterly exhausted, Yilu’s vision went black, and she too collapsed.
“Brother, are you okay?” Tif rushed over and tore off her own sleeve to bandage Lyr’s hand.
Even though she always acted like she had everything under control, she had grown up in the Royal Capital and had never seen real blood.
Now, seeing Lyr’s hand stained red, her own hands trembled uncontrollably.
“It’s fine. Nothing major.”
This time, Lyr was the one who stayed calm. He tossed the sword aside with a flick of his hand.
When he was at the frontier killing wild beasts and magical beasts, wounds and blood like this were nothing new to him.
Seeing the surrounding students crowd around, Lyr waved his other hand and said, “It’s nothing. Everyone, scatter.”
At the sight of the blood still dripping from Lyr’s hand, they all flinched like startled birds, instinctively stepping back.
Lyr rolled his eyes at them. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
This was why he kept saying that no matter how tough these guys thought they were, they were still just flowers raised in a greenhouse.
“Tif, give me a hand. Take these two to the infirmary.”
When it came down to it, he still had to call on his sister for help.
“Teanya, you too.”
“Me too?” Teanya looked confused, hesitant to get near Lyr because of all the blood.
“Don’t talk back.”
As Lyr picked up Yilu, Tif went to grab Beiyao and gestured for Teanya to hurry over.
Once they left the sword training ground and were alone, Lyr said, “I noticed she seemed off this morning, but I never expected this.”
Back then, Lyr had been surrounded by a group of students and couldn’t get away. By the time he noticed, he already heard the clash of swords.
“Do you think this counts as a teaching accident?”
“You’re worried about that at a time like this?” Tif didn’t know whether to be exasperated at Lyr or admire his calm under pressure.
None of that mattered now. What mattered was the condition of those two.