Rumors reached their peak three days later.
Xuanxi once again saw the post on Elsa Ash’s communication stone. The title was extremely exaggerated: “That ‘No Bloodline’ Girl, What’s Her Deal?”
It was filled with her enrollment registration information, with the glaring “None” in the bloodline column highlighted in red and bold. Below were dozens of comments, and the further down she scrolled, the more unsightly they became.
“Without a bloodline, how does she deserve to be in our Dragonborn Academy?”
“I heard she doesn’t even have elemental affinity. She’s just an ordinary person.”
“Have you seen her dragon form? They say it has no wings. Can that even be called a dragon?”
“Someone on the same floor said she gets up before dawn every day. No one knows what she’s messing around with.”
“Acting. She’s just pretending to work hard.”
Xuanxi handed the communication stone back to Elsa Ash without any expression.
“Aren’t you angry?” Elsa Ash’s eyes widened, her brown short hair almost standing up. “They’re talking about you like that!”
“Anger won’t solve anything.” Xuanxi lowered her head and took a sip of porridge.
“You can explain! Tell them you’re not some dragon of unknown origin—”
“I really am of unknown origin.” Xuanxi looked up, her amber-gold eyes as calm as dead water. “They’re not wrong at all.”
Elsa Ash opened her mouth but was momentarily at a loss for words.
Reggie put down the bread in his hand, glanced at Xuanxi, and seemed about to speak but stopped.
“Thank you both for caring. I’m full. I’ll go now.”
She was used to these things. It had been the same back in the border town. Her foster father’s blacksmith shop was at the edge of town. The kids across the street never played with her.
When they happened to meet in the alleys, they would throw stones at her, yelling “mongrel” and “monster.”
Every time, Helasi would rush out to chase those kids away, then come back and crouch down in front of her, cupping her face with his rough hands and saying, “You’re not a monster. You’re my daughter.”
Later, she learned not to cry in front of others. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sad—it was that she couldn’t let anyone see her sadness.
During the afternoon training class, Xuanxi made a decision. She walked up to Instructor Vald and stood still.
The instructor was organizing training records. His bald head shone in the sunlight, and the scar on his face ran from his forehead all the way to his jaw—it looked painful. He raised his eyes to Xuanxi but didn’t speak, waiting for her to talk.
“Instructor, I’d like to request solo training.”
Vald’s hand, flipping through the records, paused. “Reason?”
“My fighting style is completely different from everyone else’s.” Xuanxi said, her voice not loud but steady. “Practicing with them—I won’t learn anything, and neither will they.”
Vald stared at her for a few seconds, his gray-white eyes expressionless. “Is it because of that post?”
Xuanxi was silent for a moment.
“Not entirely,” she said. “It’s the placement exam three weeks from now.”
He glanced at her, then wrote a line in the record book in handwriting so messy only he could read it.
“Training Ground No. 3.” He tossed her a pass. “From two to five PM every day. Don’t go overtime.”
“Thank you, Instructor.”
Xuanxi took the pass and turned to leave. Vald added from behind, “Helasi.”
She stopped.
“You came to the academy to learn, not make friends.” Vald’s voice was devoid of any emotion. “What others think has nothing to do with you.”
Xuanxi didn’t look back, but her spine straightened a little.
“…I understand. Thank you, Instructor!”
When she came out of the training ground, the evening sun was already setting.
Xuanxi didn’t go straight back to the dormitory. She walked slowly along the academy’s stone paths. The evening breeze blew up from the edge of the Floating Peak, carrying the scent of the forest below the clouds—cool and damp.
When she passed the Bulletin Board, she saw the notice again.
“The freshman entrance exam will be held in three weeks. The exam includes a theoretical written test, practical combat, and team collaboration.”
Three weeks. In her current state, even passing the exam was a question, let alone getting a good score.
Before she found a way to fill the gaps, no matter how hard she trained, she would just be running in place. She needed a new training method—one that truly suited her.
***
The next day at two PM, Xuanxi arrived at Training Ground No. 3 on time.
This training ground was on the westernmost side of the Main Campus, a fifteen-minute walk from the Main Training Ground. It was remote and small.
The barrier pillars around it were a bit old, and the pale blue shield was much thinner than the one at the main ground. But for her, who was harmless to others, this place was enough.
She stood in the center of the training ground, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Today, she was going to train her reaction speed.
With no opponent, she had to set the problems for herself. She drew several circles on the ground, marking them as “safe zones,” then moved quickly across the field.
Each step had to land precisely inside a circle. The circles kept shrinking, and her movement speed kept increasing.
Once, twice, three times. Her breathing became rapid, and fine beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
On the 137th landing, her toes were slightly off.
“Not fast enough. This way, I’ll get hit by someone’s attack.”
She stopped, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and redrew the circles on the ground—each one even smaller.
138th landing: off.
139th: off again.
140th—She tripped, falling forward, her knee slamming heavily against the stone floor.
It hurt. She looked down. The training pants had torn a hole at the knee, and blood was seeping through the skin underneath.
She took out a bottle of healing potion and poured a little on the wound. White mist rose as the wound slowly healed.
She didn’t know how long had passed, nor did she want to know. Sweat slid down her cheeks, dripped onto the stone floor, and evaporated quickly.
She had stopped caring about the circles. She was just running, dodging, using all her strength to avoid attacks that didn’t even exist.
“You’re just jogging. This isn’t training at all.”
Xuanxi stopped abruptly. At the entrance to Training Ground No. 3 stood a figure with silver-white hair.
Hildegrif was wearing dark casual clothes. Her amethyst-colored eyes watched her quietly.
“What are you doing here?” Xuanxi asked, panting.
Hildegrif was silent for a second.
“…Passing by.”
If Xuanxi remembered correctly, Training Ground No. 3 was on the westernmost side of the Main Campus, a fifteen-minute walk from the Main Training Ground, and the path wasn’t great. The word “passing by” coming from this person always carried a subtle sense of mismatch.
But she didn’t call her out. “Then keep passing by.” Xuanxi turned around, ready to continue running.
“I watched you run forty-seven laps.” Hildegrif’s voice came from behind. “Same route, same speed. But nothing changed in those forty-seven laps. Are you training, or are you punishing yourself?”
Xuanxi stopped. She turned and looked at Hildegrif. The girl had already walked into the training ground and stopped about three meters in front of her, hands in her pockets, her posture as casual as if she really were just passing by.
“You counted?” Xuanxi asked.
“Your footsteps were too loud.” Hildegrif’s tone was flat. “I could hear them from the dormitory building.”
The dormitory building was at least eight hundred meters from Training Ground No. 3. Even with ears like a bat, you couldn’t hear that.
“You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to train. I have no elemental power, no dragon form—the school rules don’t allow me to use it anyway. I can only train my physical fitness and reactions.”
“And what have you gained?”
“…Nothing.” Xuanxi’s voice dropped.
She didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth. She had trained all afternoon, sweat buckets, even scraped her knee, but she was still far from “getting stronger.” She didn’t even know what the “right direction” was.
Hildegrif looked at her. Then she did something Xuanxi hadn’t expected.
She walked to the center of the training ground, turned around, and faced Xuanxi.
“You don’t need a dragon form,” she said. “Your body is your weapon, but you don’t know how to use it.”
“Can you teach me?”
“I’m just passing by.” Hildegrif’s tone was still indifferent. “But I don’t mind saying a few pointless words.”
Xuanxi looked at her and suddenly felt a bit moved.
“Fine. Say those pointless words. I’m listening.”
“You were training reaction speed just now, but your method is wrong.” She raised her right hand, and a silver-white arc of lightning flickered at her fingertips.
“Reaction isn’t trained—it’s beaten in. Running a hundred laps alone on an empty field is worse than sparring with me for three minutes.”
Xuanxi was stunned. “You want to spar with me?”
“I’m just passing by.” Hildegrif emphasized again. “But if I can stretch my limbs a bit while I’m at it, that’s not bad.”
Xuanxi looked at those amethyst eyes and suddenly realized something.
Today, Hildegrif wasn’t wearing the academy uniform. She was in casual clothes—a dark long-sleeved top and fitted long pants, with the cuffs and hems tied tight. That wasn’t just any outfit; it was specifically prepared for training.
Xuanxi lowered her eyes. “Okay.” She assumed a starting stance. “Then I’ll keep you company and stretch a bit.”
First round: Xuanxi moved first.
She charged at Hildegrif, leaving an afterimage behind. Twenty meters in two seconds. She reached out to grab the other’s shoulder, planning to use the leverage to flip around.
Before her fingers even touched the clothes, a flash appeared before her eyes—silver-white lightning. Then she was flung away, her back slamming against the training ground floor, sliding several meters before stopping.
“Too fast—”
“It’s not that you’re fast.” Hildegrif’s voice came from above, still unhurried. “It’s that my lightning is too fast. You don’t even know my skills, yet you charged in. That’s not attacking—that’s suicide.”
Xuanxi got up from the ground, her back burning with pain.
“Again.”
Second round: she learned. She didn’t charge. Instead, she slowly circled Hildegrif, observing her center of gravity and breathing.
Thunder dragon clan attacks were extremely fast, but before casting, there was always a subtle preparatory movement—a shoulder drop, or a finger curl.
She waited for that micro-movement.
Hildegrif’s right shoulder dipped slightly. Xuanxi dodged left. A bolt of lightning flew past her ear, leaving the smell of ozone in the air. She didn’t stop. She spun in the air and kicked at Hildegrif’s side.
This time, her foot hit something—but it wasn’t Hildegrif. It was a silver-white defensive barrier.
She was sent flying again.
“You saw my opening move.” Hildegrif stood still, not moving an inch. “But you only saw the first one. Thunder dragon clan attacks have three types of opening moves. You guessed the first one right—what about the second?”
Xuanxi sat up from the ground and found her right leg trembling slightly.
“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly.
“Then I’ll tell you.” Hildegrif raised her right hand, a ball of silver-white lightning glowing in her palm. “Thunder first-type opening move: shoulder drops, attack direction is the same as the shoulder.”
The lightning burst in her palm, turning into an arc that flew into the distance.
“Second type: wrist twist, attack direction is opposite to the twist.”
She twisted her wrist, and an arc shot from her palm in the complete opposite direction.
“Third type.”
She did nothing—no shoulder drop, no wrist twist. She just looked at Xuanxi, and a thread-thin bolt of lightning shot from her eyes, blasting a small crater at Xuanxi’s feet.
“Direct release, no warning.” Hildegrif dismissed the lightning. “You can’t even dodge the first two. Against a real thunder-type opponent, you wouldn’t last three seconds.”
Xuanxi looked at the still-smoking crater by her feet and was silent for a long time. Then she slowly smiled. “You’re even willing to teach me this?”
“I told you, I’m just passing by.” Hildegrif looked away, toward the distant sky. “Just saying a few pointless words.”
“Then can I ask for advice?” Xuanxi stood up and brushed the dust off her clothes. “The third type of opening move—is there any way to predict it?”
Hildegrif was silent for a few seconds. “No.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Tank it.” Hildegrif looked at her.
“Thunder-type attacks are characterized by high speed but low single-instance damage. If you survive one hit, you’ll know its attack frequency and interval. Counterattack before the next one comes.”
“What if I can’t tank it?”
“You can tank it.” Hildegrif’s tone suddenly changed.
It was no longer that cold, indifferent calm. Instead, it was a very light affirmation, one that barely showed any emotional shift.
“Your body is much sturdier than you think,” she said. “You’re an eastern dragon. The physical resistance of eastern dragons is among the highest of all dragon races.”
Xuanxi was stunned, because when Hildegrif said “you’re an eastern dragon,” there was no doubt, no uncertainty in her voice. She wasn’t guessing. She was certain.
“How do you know I’m an eastern dragon?” Xuanxi asked.
Hildegrif didn’t answer. She looked down at her waist, where a small pouch was tied.
The dark gray fabric was embroidered with a silver dragon crest—the emblem of the Edelstein Family. She undid the pouch’s drawstring and pulled something out.
It was a neatly folded handkerchief, but it was clearly no ordinary one. The fabric was old, the edges a bit worn, but it was washed clean. Its color was a moon-white rarely seen in the Western Dragon Domain.
On one corner, a flower was embroidered—Xuanxi didn’t recognize the flower, but the stitching technique looked similar to the pattern on the Snack Stall Owner’s apron.