Winter didn’t speak, but a bit of cold air slipped out of her mask. She had been thinking the sa thing, but hearing Judgent say it made the weight settle a little deeper.
Judgent folded his hands behind his back, but there was nothing calm in the way he moved.
His voice ca out deep and cold, cutting without hesitation. "If your Shadow, i Lin, couldn’t find even a footprint, then she is weaker than I thought. A Shadow who loses every trail is nothing more than dead weight."
He leaned a little closer toward Winter, the edge in his tone growing harsher. "Train her again. Break her if you must. If she’s getting outplayed, she shouldn’t be standing next to you."
Winter’s fingers tightened once, then loosened again. "I will deal with i Lin myself."
Judgent gave a slow nod, but his voice stayed hard. "See that you do. She’s grown soft. If she can’t keep up, then beat the weakness out of her. A Shadow who falls behind isn’t a Shadow but a burden."
He leaned slightly forward, his words ca out rough. "Fix her. Or replace her. Soone around Shen Yan is faster than her. That shouldn’t happen under you."
Winter lowered her head slightly. "I understand."
Void whistled quietly, clearly enjoying this. "Well, there goes i Lin’s week."
Judgent shot him a glare so sharp Void actually leaned back in his chair.
Winter didn’t stay any second longer.
She just stood there, the cold around her shoulders trembling a little. No one else noticed it, but it was the only sign she gave in the entire eting that she had been holding herself together.
Void’s mocking voice still rang in her ears.
Storm’s annoyed glance.
Fang’s doubtful sigh.
And the silence from the rest — contempt hidden behind their masks, like they were all thinking the sa thing:
Winter failed. She’s pathetic.
She felt all of it pressing inside her chest, sharp and heavy, but she didn’t show any of it while she was still in the room.
With all those masks staring, with Judgent standing over Void, with Light’s anger filling the room, Winter kept her expression straight.
She didn’t let a single breath slip out of place. Everything stayed locked inside her as she walked toward the exit, holding it tight until the heavy tal door slid shut behind her, the temperature in the hallway dropped so fast the wall lamps flickered.
Her calm steps changed—still steady, but the cold leaking from her body grew thicker and thicker, curling along the floor like fog rolling down a mountain in winter.
Winter’s rage didn’t explode loudly.
It leaked out of her in waves, quitly.
Frost climbed up the walls as she walked, spreading fast, coating the tal in a thin, white sheet. The solid floor beneath her feet froze in long lines, sharp enough to slice through shoes if anyone stepped too close.
She kept walking, but her anger clawed deeper.
Every ti Void laughed.
Every ti soone looked away.
Every second Light stared at her with that cold tone.
Her fingers curled slightly, and the air around her snapped.
A thick spike of ice tore upward from the ground behind her, shattering a support beam.
Another spike burst from the ceiling, tearing through pipes and wires.
A chill storm swept through the hallway, blowing frost into every corner and throwing loose debris across the floor.
A warning alarm tried to ring sowhere deeper in the facility.
Winter didn’t stop.
She didn’t look back.
The whole underground passage shook behind her, walls splitting with loud cracks, frost spreading faster than anyone could run.
The temperature fell to freezing point, then below, turning the air white and foggy. Every breath she took made the frost pulse harder.
By the ti she reached the exit, half the hallway was destroyed — ice spikes jutting out of the ground, walls frozen, ceiling torn in long cold lines.
And Winter’s expression never changed.
Calm mask.
Steady steps.
She pushed open the last door and stepped out of the facility.
Winter didn’t even slow down. Her mind was already sowhere else on i Lin.
She left the restricted facility and headed toward the only place i Lin would be at this ti of day.
Eastern Alliance Superhuman University.
It was the top academy in the East.
Normal awakened people didn’t even get near the gate. Admission was reserved for those who awakened with Legendary or Mythic bloodlines, and nothing lower was accepted.
Even talented elites from other provinces often failed to qualify.
They won the global tournant ten years straight in the Global Ascension Tournant, a worldwide event where superhuman academies fought for dominance.
Teams from dozens of nations entered every year, but Eastern Alliance kept winning without losing a single season.
The principal was an S-9 Rank Mythic holder, soone strong enough that even high-ranking officials hesitated to stand in front of him.
Under his leadership, the academy turned into a place that made monsters—future commanders, national guardians, researchers with power that could shake cities.
The university stretched wider than a small city.
There were training grounds that shook whenever students fought, gravity rooms where even lifting a foot felt like dragging a mountain, and long stone halls built for bloodline ditation where so students locked themselves in for days.
Above all of that was the academy’s ranking system.
They loved rankings more than anything.
The academy didn’t just stand at the top because of its buildings or bloodlines.
It held its place because of one thing everyone in the country cared about:
The Heaven Ladder Ranking list.
This wasn’t any school ranking.
It was a national list.
Every academy across the Eastern Nation sent their strongest students to compete for a spot. Only one hundred nas were placed on that list each year, carved onto a giant stone wall in the capital and copied across every major academy.
Eastern Alliance had owned the top section of it for the past decade.
Top thirty.
Every single year.
Sotis even top forty when their new bloodline students turned out strong.
People from other academies hated them for it, but they couldn’t do anything.
Eastern Alliance simply produced monsters.
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