383 A Conditional Contract

383 A Conditional Contract

I stayed behind in the lecture hall longer than necessary. The room smelled like old ink and resentment. I debated whether I should actually meet that unreasonable lecturer. Part of me wanted to ignore her invitation and pretend I never heard it. But if I skipped it, she’d probably cause trouble later, and I was already juggling enough chaos in this academy.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Fine… I’ll just go.”

After asking a handful of internal disciples for directions, each one more smug than the last, I finally found myself in front of her study. The building towered over the rest like an oversized brick, with too many windows for one person to realistically use. As I lifted my hand to knock, her voice rang in my mind through Qi Speech.

“Enter.”

Pretentious. Completely unnecessary. But I pushed the door open anyway.

Inside, her study sprawled like a miniature museum. There were too many artifacts to count from jade plates etched with diagrams, hanging scrolls full of cryptic runes, and spell models suspended in glowing spheres. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed to bursting with manuals. At the very center was a polished desk, and behind it sat a silver-haired woman with an expression cold enough to freeze a phoenix. A plaque on her desk read: Peng Ru.

I cupped my fists politely. “Greetings, Elder Peng Ru. Da Boqi of the Beast Court.”

She didn’t greet me back. Instead, she waved her fingers lazily. “Move closer.”

I stepped forward.

“Turn around.”

I blinked but obeyed. The room was silent except for the faint hum of some floating artifact. Then I felt her scrutiny like cold needles. Her gaze climbed from my feet to the top of my head, lingering far too long at places that didn’t need lingering.

I cleared my throat. “Elder Peng Ru, may I know what exactly—”

She ignored me completely. The next thing I knew, she stood up and started poking me. Literally poking me. She pressed a thumb against my jaw and forced it open to check my teeth. Then she lifted my eyelids, examined my palms, and for some ungodly reason, slapped my rear as if inspecting a beast in a marketplace.

“H–hey! What was that for?!” I jumped away before she touched anything else best left untouched.

This woman was absolutely insane.

I had never heard any rumors about her being like this. From what I gathered, Elder Peng Ru was one of the most talented spell instructors in the Heavenly Academy rumored to have raised several geniuses in spellcraft and theory. Nothing suggested she was a lunatic with wandering hands. I would’ve blasted her with a Smite if I weren’t here to infiltrate the academy.

Peng Ru returned to her chair like nothing happened. She scribbled on a scroll, muttering to herself.

Then she looked up and said dryly, “Go downtown.”

“What?” I asked, still guarding my rear instinctively.

“Get changed. Something nicer. Clean yourself up.” She picked up a jade slip as if she were reading my measurements. “You will meet my niece.”

I stood there in silence, staring at Peng Ru as the reality of what she said slowly clicked into place. A horrible, sinking realization crawled into my mind.

Oh.

Oh no.

This wasn’t some weird test.

This was… a blind date setup.

Of all the bizarre situations I had been through and there were many, this was not one I expected to face in the Heavenly Academy.

I cleared my throat carefully. “Elder Peng Ru, I came here to study. I have good intentions. I’m here to learn, not to get dragged into school romance.”

She stared at me with a look so unreadable it made me doubt whether she even heard the words coming out of my mouth. Up close, she was undeniably beautiful with refined features, silver hair, and elegant presence, but she also felt like the kind of flower that stabbed you as soon as you got close. A woman people rarely dared to refuse. A woman who clearly didn’t hear “no” very often.

I continued, “Besides… my heart already belongs to someone.”

That should’ve ended the discussion.

Instead, her expression hardened. Her spiritual pressure surged like a mountain suddenly deciding it hated me personally. Her cultivation at the Ninth Realm pressed against me without mercy. Even with my experience and all the tricks I had up my sleeve, my knees buckled, and I hit the floor with one of them.

I clenched my teeth. I could resist her fully if I used quintessence, but that would be suicidal right now.

After a few long seconds, Peng Ru withdrew her spiritual pressure as cleanly as snapping a string. She folded her hands behind her back.

“What do you dislike about meeting my niece?” she asked, her tone cool and flat, as if she genuinely couldn’t understand why I wasn’t jumping at the opportunity.

I stared at her, speechless at the absurdity of what she was asking me to do.

After a slow breath, I cupped my fists and forced my tone to remain respectful. “Elder Peng Ru… may I ask for enlightenment? What is your true intention?”

She nodded approvingly, as though I had finally asked the correct question. She walked to a cabinet and pulled out a neatly folded set of white robes far more elegant than standard academy uniforms. I sensed formation arrays carefully stitched into the fabric, subtle and refined. High-grade work.

“I am helping you,” she said calmly. “Remaining an external disciple will hinder your growth. If you marry my niece, you may wear these.”

I blinked. “What does… wait, what?”

She continued without pause. “My niece is not talented. She will not gain a partner easily. I am looking out for her future. And yours.”

So this was not only a blind date…it was a marriage proposal disguised as “help.”

I stared at the robes, then at her stern face, then back at the robes.

Yeah. No.

I straightened myself, dusted my knees, and answered as firmly as I could without provoking a Ninth Realm cultivator into turning me into ash.

“I appreciate the offer, Elder Peng Ru,” I said steadily, “but I’m not interested.”

Peng Ru’s expression shifted sharply the moment the words I’m not interested left my mouth. Her silver brows rose in shock before her eyes hardened in offense. Anger bloomed around her like a cold wind filled with needles, but she reined it in with visible effort, jaw tightening as she forced her temper back under control.

“You refuse?” she said, voice rising a pitch too high before she dragged it back down. “I have the magnanimity to look past your beastly origins, the generosity to invite you into my family, the foresight to elevate your status within the Heavenly Temple, and the kindness to secure you a bright future, yet you reject me?”

I let out a slow sigh. Honestly, I had already tolerated more than enough of her attitude. But patience… patience won out.

I straightened my robe and replied, “Elder Peng Ru, I already have someone looking out for me. Unless you offer something far bigger, you’ll have a difficult time persuading me, no matter what method you use. Marriage? Status? Those don’t matter much to me.”

Her eyes narrowed, clearly offended that I dismissed the Heavenly Temple’s prestige so casually.

I continued, calm but firm. “And to be direct, I already have a powerful backer. You may have heard of her, Jia Yun. She’s recently been calling herself ‘Da Ji.’ With her word alone, my future is already taken care of.”

Her cold eyes flickered.

Da Ji had mentioned to me yesterday that she attended a short meeting with the Heavenly Academy’s staff and lecturers. She discussed her identity, her lineage, and politely demanded they treat her properly. The Academy treated internal disciples differently than the external exchange disciples… and Da Ji knew that.

Zhu Bo, though respected, was at his core a Beast Court instructor with split affiliation. Da Ji, however, carried the full political weight of someone who inherited Jia Sen’s authority and power. People listened to her. People feared her. People respected her.

Even Peng Ru. She looked conflicted, almost frustrated, as if my answer had struck somewhere she didn’t expect. But instead of giving up, she leaned forward and spoke with a low, firm voice.

“…Then I will compromise.”

I blinked. “Compromise?”

She nodded slowly, gathering the white robes back into her arms. “If you are not convinced, then how about this? I am willing to take you in as my personal disciple.”

My fingers twitched.

That was tempting.

As annoying as she was, Peng Ru was still a Ninth Realm cultivator and a renowned spell educator in the Heavenly Academy. Becoming her disciple would place me closer to the inner workings of the Heavenly Temple. It would give me access to resources, knowledge, and hidden corners I might otherwise never see.

But given her attitude in class… Did I really want to deal with someone who treated her students like trash?

Probably not.

Still, the fact she kept pushing… It didn’t make sense.

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“Elder Peng Ru,” I said, cupping my fists again, “before I even consider your offer… may I ask something?”

She raised a brow.

“What,” she said flatly.

I held her gaze.

“What do you see in me that makes you go this far?”

The Heavenly Academy had a very strict policy regarding teacher–disciple relationships. A lecturer could only take one disciple at a time. No exceptions. The rule existed to prevent factionalism, favoritism, and the creation of miniature sects inside the Academy. I had skimmed through their policies, so I knew exactly how significant Peng Ru’s offer was.

It wasn’t exaggeration to call it a life-changing invitation for any normal disciple.

Too bad for her, I was not normal.

Da Ji had already taken Ren Jingyi as her one and only apprentice. That meant I could never become Da Ji’s official disciple. So Peng Ru’s offer was, in theory, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

But why me?

Peng Ru folded her arms, eyes locked on me with a seriousness that hadn’t appeared earlier. She looked as if she had swallowed a boulder. “You asked why I want you as my disciple,” she said. “The answer is simple. Your spiritual root.”

“My spiritual root?” I blinked. “It’s not that special.”

She clicked her tongue sharply. “You fool. Of course it is.”

I shrugged. “It’s just a mixed root.”

Her expression darkened. “Mixed? Mixed? Boy, that is the legendary yin–yang spiritual root. Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

I raised a brow, keeping my expression mild. “Rare doesn’t mean strong.”

“You—!” she hissed in frustration, rubbing her forehead. “A person who can cultivate any technique under heaven and adjust to any elemental path without resistance is not special to you?”

I didn’t answer.

Of course I knew it was special.

Pure spiritual roots were revered, treasured, and fought over. But a yin–yang mixed root was considered beyond rare. It wasn’t simply a dual element root. It ignored restrictions entirely. You could learn thunder arts, water arts, frost arts, poison arts, life arts, death arts… anything. There were no bottleneck walls from incompatible elements. It was a talent for limitless learning.

Some even called it the all-learning root.

The downside, however, was that it didn’t give any immediate advantage. It wasn’t fast, nor explosive, nor innately powerful. It simply had lots of potential.

Truthfully… I still didn’t know how to use it properly. I just let my spiritual roots grow at their own pace. It was easier that way.

But Peng Ru clearly knew more about this root than I did. And if she did, it might be worth accepting her proposal if only to learn something new.

“You foolish child,” muttered Peng Ru. “If you don’t even understand your own blessing, then you—”

“I accept,” I said.

Peng Ru’s mouth snapped shut mid-scold. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, the intimidating Ninth Realm elder looked genuinely stunned.

“…You accept?” she repeated.

I nodded. “Yes. I’ll be your disciple.”

Her expression twitched in disbelief. I had never seen someone so powerful look so unprepared.

Honestly, even if Peng Ru became my master, it wasn’t the end of the world. If she failed to teach me anything useful or turned out to be completely unbearable, I could always ditch her later. The Heavenly Academy had loopholes everywhere. I just needed to play along for now.

Peng Ru gestured sharply at a chair. “Sit.”

I obeyed, taking the seat opposite hers. She sat down as well, crossing her legs with the elegance of someone who believed the room and everyone inside it belonged to her.

Then she dropped a bomb.

“If you want to become my disciple, you will marry my niece.”

Was this woman insane?

Marriage? Me? Right now? Why was she so insistent in this part, too?

I wasn’t even a century into pretending to be a student of this Academy, and she already wanted me to get tied down by a contract stronger than some formations. I inhaled slowly through my nose, desperately keeping my expression flat.

Before I could speak, she turned her head toward the door.

“You may come in now.”

The door opened with a soft creak, and footsteps approached. When I saw who it was, my eyes widened a little.

“Ding Cai?” I called.

Her face brightened slightly. “Da Boqi. You suddenly vanished on me! I was waiting for you at the external disciples’ dormitories… we were supposed to plan for our performance, but you never came.”

“Thank you for being so conscientious,” I said. I meant it. She was genuinely earnest.

Peng Ru folded her arms like she was presenting merchandise she was proud of. “This is my niece. On my younger sister’s side.”

Ding Cai looked between us, confused. “Aunt… what’s going on?”

“This boy,” Peng Ru said matter-of-factly, “is your fiancé.”

The light in Ding Cai’s eyes died so fast I almost heard it crack.

“…What?” she whispered.

Her face froze in horror. She slowly turned toward me as if asking for confirmation that this nightmare wasn’t real.

Peng Ru continued, oblivious or uncaring. “You should be grateful. I am solving your future. Do you know how many proposals I rejected for you? How many young talents you turned down? You keep ruining every chance at a stable life. I am correcting your path.”

“Aunt,” Ding Cai said, voice trembling, “you can’t decide that. Not for me, not for him.”

Peng Ru slammed her hand on the table. “You ungrateful brat! You refused every good match I arranged for you, wasted every effort I poured into giving you a bright future, and now you dare argue with me? I’m only helping you!”

Ding Cai’s expression twisted into fury. She clenched her fists, glaring daggers at her aunt.

“You know what, Aunt?” she snarled. “Go die!”

She spun around, stomped toward the door, and shouted over her shoulder:

“May the Sunderer smite you in the ass!”

The door slammed hard enough to shake the shelves.

…Well. That escalated quickly.

I couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed after Ding Cai stormed out. May the Sunderer smite you in the ass, huh? That was a new one. I briefly considered adding it to my cuss list, but I doubted that would end well for me.

Peng Ru’s expression softened as she watched the door Ding Cai disappeared through. Her voice dropped to a wistful murmur. “She’s so much like her mother.”

I blinked. The shift in her demeanor was instant and obvious, her entire presence mellowed, almost gentle, as if she were remembering something precious. So the terrifying, unreasonable elder had a soft spot after all. Good to know.

Then she noticed I was still present.

Her eyes sharpened. Her aura returned to its usual oppressive sharpness. She straightened up like a blade being re-sheathed.

I spoke before she could put up another wall. “I understand your intentions.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Do you now?”

“Of course,” I replied calmly. “You want to tie down a talented young man with inferior origins to your niece who came from an important background, hoping she’ll react emotionally and accept the match.”

Her spiritual pressure flared in irritation. “Watch your mouth, boy.”

“I am,” I assured her. “I’m just stating what’s obvious. You’re worried about her. She’s well over her years, yet stuck in her realm with no hope for a breakthrough. You fear she won’t be able to support herself, so you’re desperately trying to secure her future.”

Peng Ru slammed her fist on the table. The entire slab of wood shattered like brittle clay.

“The deal is off!” she barked.

“Oh, now, it’s a deal? I faintly remember you were coercing me into it.”

The outburst didn’t shake me. I’d lived too many lives to be intimidated by temper tantrums, especially ones born from concern.

I kept my voice steady. “I want a different deal.”

Her brows shot up in rage. “Arrogant nobody. Leave, before I hurt you.”

I didn’t move.

Instead, I spoke clearly and with full confidence. “I can help Ding Cai break through to the next realm.”

The room went silent except for the faint rattling of a decorative jade scroll that trembled from the earlier impact.

“I only want one thing in return,” I continued, meeting her cold gaze without flinching. “A favor. One you will fulfill at all cost… when the time comes.”

Peng Ru ridiculed me the moment my words settled in the air. “You really are a fool,” she scoffed, voice dripping with superiority. “Making a deal with me? Do you even understand the difference in our stations? In our realms?”

I shrugged lightly. “Sure. But it doesn’t hurt to let me try.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “Why are you so confident?”

“Because I’m a genius,” I said without hesitation.

Her lips twitched into a sharp, disdainful smile. “There are many self-proclaimed geniuses. You’re nothing special.”

Of course she’d say that. To be honest, hearing myself call me a genius felt cringe enough to peel bark off trees. But confidence mattered more than accuracy. I had my methods. Embarrassing or not, the statement served its purpose.

I straightened, meeting her gaze directly. “Give me a year. I’ll push Ding Cai to the next realm.”

Peng Ru burst into laughter. It wasn’t polite laughter. Insteadm, it was the kind that came from someone who’d witnessed too many delusional declarations.

“A year?” she said between breaths. “You arrogant brat. Ding Cai has been stuck for centuries. Hundreds of years. And you claim you’ll push her to the next major realm? Not a minor realm, but the next major realm? Absurd.”

“She has nothing to lose,” I replied calmly. “It’s just a year.”

“Nothing to lose?” she repeated, incredulous. “Very well. If you insist on courting humiliation…” Her face hardened into something cold and binding. “If you fail, you will marry my niece and serve my clan’s interests for the next millennia.”

The air trembled around us. She wasn’t bluffing. This was an oath in all but name.

I breathed in slowly. Then I reached inward, pushed past the barrier I’d been suppressing for months, and let my soul expand.

A soft, ringing hum filled my ears as light flickered across my meridians. My realm rose. From First Dimension of Soul Recognition… to the Second Dimension.

Peng Ru’s eyes widened, her Qi Sense flaring in surprise.

I smirked lightly. “Bet.”

Peng Ru hadn’t expected I would break through on the spot, and so casually at that. Her Qi Sense swept over me again and again, as if double-checking that she wasn’t hallucinating.

Before she could fully process it, I reached under my robes and pulled out a small vial. It was made of clear crystal, sealed with a layered formation, and filled with a radiant, shimmering liquid.

Quintessence. Otherwise known as Immortal Qi.

The instant she sensed it, Peng Ru lunged forward.

Her hand moved faster than I could track even with Divine Speed and Divine Sense activated. The difference between our realms was too large. She snatched the vial from me as if plucking a leaf from air.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded sharply, her nostrils flaring. “Did you steal it? Speak!”

I frowned. “Watch your mouth. It came from Da Ji.”

That silenced her completely.

Her gaze flicked between me and the quintessence, suspicion replaced by something far more dangerous, greedy reverence.

The truth, of course, was messier. The quintessence came from Wu Chen, and maintaining its potency in a vial was a pain in the ass. Still, it was real quintessence and its value was enough to snap the shackles off Peng Ru’s caution.

If this didn’t make her take the deal seriously, nothing would.

I folded my arms. “Use it to forge the binding contract.”

Peng Ru looked torn. For someone at her cultivation level, this was treasure she could never use. True quintessence didn’t mesh well with mortal bodies. But handling it, and tasting even a sliver of its energy would refine her understanding of spells and laws.

The temptation was eating her alive.

At last, she exhaled and said, “...Fine. I will do it.”

She pulled out a scroll of pale, jade-fiber parchment and quickly wrote the terms. Everything was standard, but also airtight. Clever woman. Even if I had given a fake name, the contract would latch onto the soul, not the identity.

She uncorked the vial and let a single bead of quintessence fall onto the parchment.

The contract pulsed with immortal light.

Peng Ru pressed her fingertip onto the parchment, imprinting her name and blood. The letters shone.

I poked my thumb with my fang and pressed it onto the contract. A droplet of blood fell.

Immediately, the parchment ignited into silvery flames rising without heat, and consuming the contract until only drifting motes remained.

The deal was sealed.

I smiled and clasped my hands politely. “Thank you for trusting me with your niece.”

Peng Ru finally looked up at me, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Oh? Then do you already have a place in mind…” She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with dangerous amusement. “…for the wedding venue?”

The tension between us tightened like a drawn bowstring.