"You bet on me, or against me, Brother Shiru?" Ji’an shot back, her trademark arrogant smirk firmly back in place now that her Qi was restored.

"Always on you, my dear friend. Though I demand a discount on my next meal for the emotional distress you’ve caused me."

Thud.

On Ji’an’s other side, Lu Jianheng, the Sword Lord, hit the ground. He didn’t say a word at first.

He stood up straight, crossing his arms aggressively over his chest, his face twisted into a fierce, grumpy scowl.

He glared at the sky, glared at the ground, and finally glared at Ji’an.

"Foolish," Lu Jianheng barked, his voice loud and accusatory. "Reckless and foolish! Throwing yourself at a Yin-Demon stronghold without proper backup? Are you trying to die early? Do you think your spatula is a divine artifact?!"

"It did the job, didn’t it?" Ji’an retorted, rolling her eyes.

Lu Jianheng’s scowl deepened, but he took a quick, jerky step forward. He reached out and forcefully grabbed Ji’an’s left arm, the one that had taken the glancing blow from the spectral claw.

He pushed her torn sleeve back roughly, his eyes scanning the skin where the frostbite had been.

Seeing that the skin was unblemished, healed by Gu Zhiwei’s Sun Qi, Lu Jianheng let out a quiet, almost imperceptible huff of relief.

He dropped her arm as if it burned him, turning his head away so she couldn’t see the dark red flush creeping up the tips of his ears.

"Hmph. Passable," the Sword Lord muttered to the floor. "But your footwork was still sloppy. I will have to drill you in the arena later."

The Assembly Plaza descended into absolute, unprecedented chaos.

The murmurs swelled into a deafening roar of gossip, shock, and sheer bewilderment.

"Am I hallucinating?! Did I inhale too much pill smoke?!" a senior disciple from Class 2 screamed, tearing at his hair. "The top four geniuses of the Inner Sect! The untouchable dragons! They all just abandoned the VIP terrace to swarm an Outer Sect cook!"

"Just look at the Holy Son! He’s practically wagging his tail!"

"The Sword Lord touched his arm! The Sword Lord hates touching people!"

"Who is Lin Ji’an?! Is he the illegitimate son of the Sect Leader?! Does he have blackmail on the entire Royal Family?!"

The female disciples were experiencing a collective meltdown of entirely different proportions.

Between the memory of Ji’an’s flawless back at the waterfall and the current reality of her being surrounded by four of the most handsome, powerful men in the sect like the centerpiece of a reverse-harem, the jealousy and admiration were reaching critical mass.

"It’s the food!" a girl from Class 6 sobbed into her hands. "The way to a man’s heart really is through his stomach! Why didn’t I study Culinary Arts instead of Alchemy?!"

Amidst the swirling chaos of the crowd’s screaming, Gu Zhiwei’s frantic healing, Wen Shiru’s calculating banter, and Lu Jianheng’s tsundere scolding, Lin Ji’an stood in the eye of the hurricane.

She was acting smug, brushing off the attention with her usual quirky, effortless charm.

She teased Gu Zhiwei for being a mother hen, shot witty comebacks at Wen Shiru, and rolled her eyes at Lu Jianheng’s lectures.

But beneath the banter, a profound realization settled over her.

Despite the arrival of the three Protagonists, despite the overwhelming, blinding light of Gu Zhiwei’s healing aura... the most grounding, undeniable presence in the circle was the person standing behind her.

Xie Wangchen had not let go of her.

While the other three buzzed around her like anxious hornets, Wangchen remained perfectly still.

His hands were still firmly, possessively wrapped around her elbows. He acted as her physical anchor, his cool, steady energy completely unaffected by the chaotic circus surrounding them.

He didn’t speak to the others and didn’t acknowledge their presence.

To Wangchen, they were merely background noise, useful tools that had served their purpose in healing her, but ultimately irrelevant.

He was the one holding her up, the one who had caught her when she fell.

He was the first person there, and his unyielding grip promised that he would be the last person to ever let her go.

Ji’an felt a strange, warm flutter in her chest that had absolutely nothing to do with the Sun Qi she had just absorbed.

The intense, unspoken devotion radiating from the boy behind her was overwhelming. She leaned back, just a fraction of an inch, pressing her shoulders against Wangchen’s chest.

It was a tiny, microscopic gesture of trust.

But to Wangchen, it was everything.

The Ice Genius’s dark eyes widened slightly. He felt her weight settle against him, felt the subtle relaxation of her guard.

A fiercely triumphant, darkly possessive thrill shot through his veins.

’He leans on me,’ Wangchen thought, his thumbs gently, unconsciously stroking the fabric of her sleeves. ’They can offer their light and their wealth, but I am his foundation.’

"Alright, alright, that’s enough," Ji’an finally clapped her hands, breaking the huddle. She gently pushed Gu Zhiwei’s glowing hands away. "My battery is at a hundred and ten percent. If you pump any more Qi into me, Zhiwei, I’m going to start glowing in the dark and ruin my stealth capabilities."

"But your spiritual sea was so empty!" Gu Zhiwei protested, looking at her with big, worried puppy-dog eyes. "You must have fought so hard, Brother Lin. You are a true hero!"

"I am a cook who got annoyed by a noisy neighbor," Ji’an corrected, stepping fully out of Wangchen’s supportive grip now that her legs were steady.

She turned to look at her ’Little Puddle’, flashing him a bright, unabashedly arrogant grin. "But I have to admit, your entrance was pretty good, Wangchen. Eight out of ten. Deductions for freezing the floor tiles, the janitors are going to hate you."

Wangchen’s lips quirked into that rare, devastatingly soft smile that was reserved entirely, exclusively for her. "I will sweep them off their feet myself, with my capabilities."