Chapter 39: Thing?! I'm Not A Thing!

Crimson Spire Academy's arena was a cacophony of murmurs and whispers, with every notable face gathered in the stands. The air thrummed with tension, mingled with the lingering hum of spiritual energy from the earlier match. The bleachers were a sea of mixed emotions: awe, resentment, curiosity.

In one corner, Mei Xue sat with her arms crossed, her frosty demeanor only rivaled by the literal icy aura radiating from her. Fù Rèn leaned back against the rail, tapping her obsidian-hued nails against the metal as she muttered under her breath, likely venting about Xuan Jing's effortless victory. Mù Yŏng, as always, was the silent observer, his sharp gaze analyzing every move Xuan Jing had made.

"Cocky, isn't he?" Mei Xue finally muttered, her voice icy but tinged with irritation.

"Understatement of the century," Fù Rèn replied, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Feng Kai shifted uncomfortably, pulling at the hem of his robes. "Well, you have to admit… He's good. Too good."

Their headmistress, Róng Míngxiù, sat a few seats away, her elegant posture radiating authority. Her piercing gaze never left Xuan Jing, though her expression remained unreadable.

Meanwhile, Guŏ Suàn lounged further up the bleachers, one leg crossed over the other, his ever-neutral expression betraying none of his thoughts. He rested his chin on his hand, his dark, calculating eyes fixed on Xuan Jing, who sat calmly across the arena with Wei Lin and Yíng Yǐng.

Wei Lin, as meticulous as ever, was busy adjusting Xuan Jing's hair, deftly smoothing out loose strands. Yíng Yǐng, on the other hand, was animated, waving his hands as he rattled off some nonsensical complaint about the council's attire, their fighting styles, and the lack of "flair" in the arena decor.

Guŏ Suàn's eyes narrowed slightly. He doesn't even flinch when they touch him like that, he mused, his mind spiraling into scenarios he wasn't sure he wanted to entertain.

"What would he do if I just walked over there right now?" Guŏ Suàn thought idly, his fingers drumming against his knee.

His silent brooding was interrupted by the unmistakable voice of Feng Hao.

"XUAN JING!!"

The loud, chaotic energy of the boy cut through the arena like a lightning bolt. Heads turned as Feng Hao bolted through the stands, practically dragging Jiăn Lí along with him. Jiăn Lí, as calm and composed as ever, allowed himself to be pulled, though he still managed to carry an air of quiet dignity.

"Ah, here they come," Xuan Jing murmured, his teal eyes lifting slightly. His face shifted just enough to reveal a flicker of recognition—something softer than his usual cold detachment.

Feng Hao reached him first, but before he could get too close, Yíng Yǐng materialized in front of him, arms crossed and smirking.

"Stop right there," Yíng Yǐng said, his tone half-serious. "Jing Jing, who is this noisy little thing?"

Feng Hao bristled, his cheeks puffing in frustration. "Thing?! I'm not a thing!"

Yíng Yǐng tilted his head mockingly. "Ah, sorry. That thing."

The two began sizing each other up like squabbling siblings. Feng Hao pointed an accusatory finger at Yíng Yǐng. "I'm his friend. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm his servant," Yíng Yǐng shot back smugly. "So, technically, I outrank you."

"Like hell you do!"

While the two bickered, Jiăn Lí approached with a faint smile and offered Wei Lin a polite nod. Wei Lin returned it, his garnet eyes momentarily softening. Without a word, Wei Lin gestured for Jiăn Lí to sit nearby, which he did, his presence adding a layer of calm to the otherwise chaotic scene.

As Yíng Yǐng and Feng Hao continued to exchange increasingly ridiculous insults, Xuan Jing remained unfazed. He leaned back slightly, allowing Wei Lin to finish fixing his hair. His gaze flicked briefly toward Jiăn Lí, who offered a respectful tilt of his head in acknowledgment.

Guŏ Suàn, still seated across the way, couldn't help but watch. The scene unfolding in front of him felt strangely intimate—a group dynamic he wasn't part of but couldn't stop observing.

"If only I could…" Guŏ Suàn thought, his fingers tightening slightly on the armrest. He glanced at Xuan Jing's subtle interactions with the others, wondering what it would take to break through that impassive exterior.

---

By the time the group settled down, the Marked had begun their rounds, moving through the students like predators stalking prey. The tension in the arena was palpable as they observed, evaluated, and occasionally spoke to potential candidates.

Róng Míngxiù's sharp gaze followed their every move, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "The Marked aren't here just for show," she murmured, her voice low enough for only those closest to her to hear. "They're hunting."

Mei Xue's grip on the rail tightened, her icy aura flaring slightly. "Then they'd better keep their eyes off me," she muttered.

Fù Rèn chuckled darkly. "Oh, let them look. I'd like to see what they think they can handle."

Back in the bleachers, Feng Hao finally stopped arguing with Yíng Yǐng long enough to plop down next to Xuan Jing, his expression still a bit pouty.

"Xuan Jing," he began, his tone unusually serious. "The Marked are definitely going to target you."

Xuan Jing turned his head slightly, his silver eyes meeting Feng Hao's. "Let them."

Feng Hao blinked, momentarily taken aback. "That's it? Just… 'let them'?"

Xuan Jing's gaze shifted toward the arena floor, where the Marked were still moving. "If they're foolish enough to think they can claim me, they'll learn otherwise."

Jiăn Lí smirked faintly, his voice calm but tinged with amusement. "Bold words, but accurate."

Yíng Yǐng grinned mischievously. "Jing Jing isn't exactly 'claimable.' You'd have better luck trying to leash a storm."

The group fell into a contemplative silence as the Marked began moving closer to their section. Guŏ Suàn, still seated apart, straightened slightly as he noticed the shift in energy. His gaze locked onto Xuan Jing, who sat utterly unbothered, a figure of quiet defiance amidst the rising storm.

"Let's see how far they're willing to go," Guŏ Suàn thought, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips.