Midnight dew slickened the dormitory eaves as Lin Hao's trio staggered home. Rice wine fumes clung to their robes—fermented peach and burnt honey undertones mingling with Thundermourn's pine-resin sweat. Four Treasures rode Lin Hao's shoulder like a feathered gargoyle, talons kneading tension from muscle fibers.

  "Knew you punched like a sandworm's mating dance." Thundermourn's laughter boomed through courtyard magnolias, shaking petals loose. His stone mallet's handle gleamed with fresh nicks from earlier excitement.

  Qin Yu's fan traced drunken constellations in moonlit air. "That sixth body-slam... chef's kiss." Silver threads in his sash caught light like captured lightning.

  Lin Hao's bare feet registered every cobblestone fissure. His meridians hummed with post-combat clarity—dragon-scale remnants prickling beneath skin. Four Treasures' telepathic purr vibrated his skull: Stone-brains impressed. Good.

  ——

  Alone in his bunk, Lin Hao exhaled sulfur-scented breath. The Wolf Spider's carapace clicked against his spine—invisible mandibles tasting air currents.

  "Time to hunt."

  Kung Fu Fly materialized in a buzz of displaced atoms. Its obsidian wings blurred, carving anti-surveillance patterns through dormitory qi fields. Shared vision flooded Lin Hao's mind—moonlit rooftops stretching toward the forbidden core district's glowing barrier.

  The insect's flight path dodged patrol spirits shaped like floating lanterns. Their glassy surfaces reflected distorted landscapes—towers bent like drunkards, pathways writhing like serpents.

  Perimeter defense: Class III mystic array. The Wolf Spider's analysis arrived as chemical burn behind Lin Hao's eyes. Recommendation: Wait for—

  "Override. Probe."

  Kung Fu Fly's wings sheared night mist. The core district's barrier shimmered—a soap bubble stretched across mountain peaks. Impact reverberated through shared senses: honeycomb lattice vibrating at 12,000 cycles per breath.

  Lin Hao's bunk creaked as phantom pressure compressed his ribs. Four Treasures' claws drew blood.

  Breach detected.

  The barrier rippled. Two figures emerged—black robes swallowing moonlight, insignias glowing like infected wounds. Their leader's nasal hair quivered with each sniff, hunting intruder spoor.

  Kung Fu Fly dove. Stone crevices offered jagged sanctuary as search-spells licked past—acid green tendrils tasting rock minerals.

  ——

  In the astral plane, the lich priest cackled through a mouthful of stolen dream matter. "Oh sweet trespass! Delicious violation!" His spectral fingers plucked barrier resonance frequencies, weaving them into future sabotage plans.

  Ying Yuanzi observed through a patrol spirit's fractured lens. The headmaster's consciousness noted the barrier's minute fluctuation—a 0.003% variance suggesting either equipment decay or... interesting possibilities.

  ——

  Lin Hao severed the vision link. His pupils dilated—wolf-spider venom and adrenaline cocktail burning through wine fog. Four Treasures preened, telepathic voice smug: Stone-brains snore. Perfect cover.

  Thundermourn's bunk rumbled with seismic snores. Qin Yu's jade hairpin glowed faintly beneath his pillow—emergency teleportation charm half-unsealed even in sleep.

  Kung Fu Fly's delayed feed showed the patrol retreating. Barrier seals reknitted with the sound of crystallizing magma.

  Mystic array vulnerability window: 23 seconds per lunar hour. The Wolf Spider's analysis arrived with clinical precision. Probability of successful penetration: 82.4%. Risk of—

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  "Prepare infiltration protocol."

  Lin Hao's fingers danced—invisible venom threads weaving contingency plans. Four Treasures' plumage puffed into defensive configuration, each feather hardening into micro-blade formation.

  Tomorrow's problems. Tonight's hunt.

  The Wolf Spider's mandibles clicked in dark approval.

  The Weight of Legacy

  Dawn painted the dormitory tiles with hues of tarnished bronze. Lin Hao's meditation chamber reeked of burnt ozone—evidence of overnight wind-fire fusion experiments. Four Treasures perched on a sulfur-stained windowsill, feathers bristling at the metallic aftertaste of dawn patrols.

  Kung Fu Fly's reconnaissance data flickered behind Lin Hao's eyelids—crisp playback of last night's conversation between enforcers. The Wolf Spider's venom glands pulsed in sync with key phrases: rebel lineage, imperial vendetta, headmaster's debt.

  ——

  Thundermourn's fist hammered the doorframe. "Rise, stone-sleeper!" The impact sent vibrations through Lin Hao's bamboo floor mat, jostling a teacup into precarious circles.

  Qin Yu leaned against corridor murals depicting celestial battles. His rainbow-trimmed robe clashed horribly with the artwork's blood-red skies. "Choose your class wisely, Blind Prince. Warrior Hall reeks of unwashed gambesons. Arcane Pavilion..." He winked. "...breathes perfume."

  Lin Hao's enhanced olfactory receptors catalogued Qin Yu's preparations—saffron hair oil, mint breath tablets, arousal pheromones masquerading as cologne. Four Treasures gagged telepathically: Peacock preening.

  ——

  The enrollment plaza thrummed with chaotic energy. Novices clustered like nervous sparrows—metal clasps jingling, parchment scrolls crackling, sweat-slicked palms leaving damp prints on enrollment tablets.

  A registration officer's quill screeched across vellum. "Name?"

  "Lin Hao."

  "Affinity?"

  The question hung like executioner's steel. Lin Hao's knuckles whitened around his guide cane. Kung Fu Fly's hidden cameras captured Qin Yu's suppressed smirk, Thundermourn's earnest nod.

  "Wind. Fire."

  The quill hesitated. Dual-element declarations always drew attention. Murmurs rippled through nearby queues—whispers of arrogance and wasted potential.

  Four Treasures pecked the officer's inkwell. "Certified! Certified!"

  ——

  Warrior Hall's stone archway exhaled centuries of blood and iron. Lin Hao's cane tip registered fossilized battle scars in the flagstones—ancient axe grooves, arrowhead pockmarks, the hexagonal depression where some long-dead champion's shield had shattered.

  Thundermourn inhaled deeply. "Smells like home." His stone mallet hummed in agreement, resonating with ancestral combat echoes.

  Lin Hao's wind attunement caught the instructor's approach—leather greaves creaking at 2.3-second intervals, sword calluses rasping against a whetstone pendant.

  "First lesson!" The instructor's roar scattered nesting bats. "Warriors breathe violence!"

  A training dummy exploded into splinters. Freshmen recoiled from shrapnel—all except Lin Hao, who caught a spinning wood fragment between his teeth. The Wolf Spider's venom glands approved—acrid pine resin and cowardice sweat made for excellent appetite stimulants.

  ——

  Arcane Pavilion's crystalline spires refracted sunlight into migraine-inducing patterns. Qin Yu lounged on a floating divan, surrounded by tittering elementalists. His fan directed breezes to strategic locations—fluttering hemlines, tousling artfully arranged curls.

  "Observe." A fire instructor snapped her fingers. The resulting flame wyvern illuminated sweat patches beneath Lin Hao's collar.

  Kung Fu Fly's thermal imaging noted three concealed weapons in the lecture hall—poisoned hairpins, ice-imbued bracelets, a live magma geode masquerading as a beauty mark.

  Lin Hao's fire attunement recoiled at sloppy spellwork—overcompensated fuel ratios, unstable containment fields, the stench of burnt cuticles.

  Four Treasures whispered, "Monkey circus."

  ——

  Mess Hall's noon clamor overwhelmed even Thundermourn's digestion. Lin Hao navigated by scent trails—charred lamb skewers, fermented bean paste, the ozone tang of unstable mana potions.

  Qin Yu's laughter cut through the din. "Our Blind Prince chooses violence!" He brandished a Warrior Hall token like a trophy.

  Thundermourn's stone mallet pulverized a pork knuckle. "Good choice."

  Lin Hao's wind attunement isolated a new threat—sandalwood pomade cutting through grease fumes. Ma Juntain's healing bones creaked with every spiteful step.

  Four Treasures' feathers puffed. Cripple approaches.

  ——

  The infirmary reeked of crushed herbs and poorly contained grudges. Yin Yang practitioners circled Ma Juntain's bed, their diagnostic talismans blackening at the edges.

  "Qi channels... corrupted."

  "Bone fractures... artistic."

  "Recommend... expulsion."

  Ma Juntain's scream curdled medicinal broths. Lin Hao's enhanced hearing dissected the injury report—twelve spiral fractures, seven tendon separations, a poetic arrangement of internal bruises.

  The Wolf Spider's mandibles clicked. Adequate.

  ——

  Dusk found Lin Hao practicing wind blades in a secluded courtyard. His movements traced last night's infiltration data—barrier resonance frequencies, patrol intervals, the precise pressure needed to fracture a spine.

  Kung Fu Fly buzzed approval. Four Treasures orchestrated distractions—mocking songbird calls to cover blade whistles, strategic guano strikes to erode surveillance runes.

  Tomorrow's infiltration. Tonight's preparation.

  The Wolf Spider's venom glands pulsed in anticipation.