[GL] I'm Just A Side Character... So Why Is The Heroine Chasing Me?! Chapter 52: The first bell

The morning of the Ranking Tournant arrived with a sky so blue it looked painted. Banners of every sect rippled across the Grand Arena like a sea of silk, each one embroidered with crests that shimred under the sunlight. The stands were already packed. Elders sat in the upper pavilions sipping spirit tea, while disciples cramd into every available seat below, buzzing with excitent.

Lan Yue stood near the preparation area, arms crossed, watching Zhao Lingxi adjust the silver ribbon tying back her hair. She moved with the calm precision of soone who had done this a thousand tis. Not a single wasted motion. Not a single tremor.

anwhile, Lan Yue’s stomach was doing sorsaults.

"You look like you are about to fight, not ," Zhao Lingxi said without turning around.

"I am fighting. Internally. With my nerves."

Zhao Lingxi glanced over her shoulder. The faintest curve touched her lips. "Your confidence in is overwhelming."

"I have full confidence in you," Lan Yue said quickly. "It is everyone else I do not trust."

That earned her a longer look. Sothing warm flickered behind Zhao Lingxi’s pale eyes before she turned back to adjusting her robes. Lan Yue felt the red thread around her wrist pulse gently, like a second heartbeat.

She looked down at it. The spiritual tether was invisible to everyone else, but to her it glowed faintly, a thread of crimson light connecting her wrist to Zhao Lingxi’s. She had gotten used to the warmth by now. Almost. Sotis it flared at the worst monts, like when Zhao Lingxi tilted her head a certain way, or when her fingers accidentally brushed Lan Yue’s hand while reaching for sothing.

Completely random. Completely aningless. Definitely not her heart being weird.

"Lingxi." Tang Xiaoli bounced over, holding a small jade bottle. "I made you a recovery pill. Mid grade. Only exploded twice during refinent."

Zhao Lingxi accepted the bottle. "Thank you."

"If it tastes like burnt charcoal, that is normal. Probably."

"Reassuring," Lan Yue muttered.

Tang Xiaoli bead. "I also made you one, Lan Yue."

"I am not fighting today."

"It is for your nerves."

Before Lan Yue could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the crowd.

"Ah, the infamous First Miss of the Zhao family. I was wondering when you would crawl out of whatever mountain you have been hiding in."

Shen Zhiran stood a few paces away, arms folded, his tournant robes pristine and his smile sharp enough to cut glass. Behind him, two disciples flanked him like decorative pillars.

Lan Yue stepped forward automatically, positioning herself between him and Zhao Lingxi. "Good morning to you too, Shen Zhiran. Love the robes. Did your cousin pick them out for you, or do you dress yourself now?"

His smile twitched. "Still hiding behind your servant, Zhao Lingxi?"

"She is not hiding behind ," Lan Yue said. "She is standing behind because I got here first. Spatial awareness. Look into it."

Zhao Lingxi placed a hand on Lan Yue’s shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent warmth flooding down her arm. The red thread pulsed again.

"Save your energy," Zhao Lingxi said softly. "He is not worth it."

She stepped past Lan Yue, eting Shen Zhiran’s gaze directly. The temperature around them seed to drop. Disciples nearby shivered without knowing why.

"If you wish to test ," Zhao Lingxi said, her voice perfectly even, "you will have your chance in the arena."

Shen Zhiran’s confident expression wavered for just a mont. Then he recovered, scoffing as he turned away. "We will see."

As he disappeared into the crowd, Tang Xiaoli let out a breath. "He gives the creeps. Pretty face, rotten core."

"Qin Wen’s puppet," Bai Xuelan said, appearing seemingly from nowhere with a scroll tucked under her arm. She pushed her glasses up. "I mapped the tournant bracket. Zhao Lingxi will not face Shen Zhiran until the quarterfinals at the earliest. Her first three opponents are mid tier. Manageable."

"Manageable if she stays below eighty percent," Lan Yue reminded everyone.

Zhao Lingxi nodded. "I rember."

The first bell rang, deep and resonant, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The tournant had begun.

Zhao Lingxi’s first match was against a Water Root disciple nad Fang i. She was decent. Quick on her feet, good control over water techniques, and she clearly practiced hard. Under normal circumstances, she might have lasted a full round.

She lasted forty seconds.

Zhao Lingxi moved like winter itself, each strike clean and precise, her spiritual energy controlled so tightly it barely rippled the air. She did not use her golden energy. She did not need to. Three ice formations, one redirect, and Fang i’s water shield shattered like dropped porcelain.

The crowd erupted.

In the stands, Lan Yue released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. The thread on her wrist humd with sothing that felt suspiciously like pride.

That is her energy, not mine, Lan Yue told herself. The tether just transfers emotions sotis. It is a spiritual phenonon. Nothing personal.

"She barely moved," Tang Xiaoli whispered, eyes wide. "That was terrifying and beautiful at the sa ti."

"Terrifyingly beautiful," Bai Xuelan corrected, scribbling notes.

"That is what I said."

"It is not."

From the upper pavilion, Lan Yue caught sight of Qin Wen. He sat among the senior disciples, watching the arena with that calm, asured smile that never quite reached his eyes. His gaze was fixed on Zhao Lingxi as she walked off the platform, and Lan Yue felt sothing cold settle in her chest.

He was not surprised. He was studying her.

"He is watching," Lan Yue murmured.

Bai Xuelan followed her gaze. "He has been watching since she entered the arena. He is cataloging her techniques, timing her responses, asuring her output."

"Can he detect the golden energy?"

"Not if she stays below the threshold we calculated. But Qin Wen is not stupid. If she wins too quickly or too cleanly, he will know she is holding back, and that itself is information."

Lan Yue chewed the inside of her cheek. They had prepared for this. Zhao Lingxi knew to make her victories look effortful even when they were not. But the gap between her real strength and what she was showing was enormous. One slip, one mont of instinct overriding caution, and everything would be exposed.

The second match ca an hour later. A Body Cultivation disciple nad Zhou Peng. Big, loud, and confident. He cracked his knuckles before the match and announced to the crowd that he would end the fight in ten seconds.

Zhao Lingxi tilted her head slightly, the way she did when she found sothing mildly amusing.

She let him charge. She sidestepped once, redirected his montum with a palm strike so light it looked like she was brushing dust off his shoulder, and watched as he sailed clear off the platform and into the barrier wall.

Twelve seconds. She even gave him two extra.

The stands went wild. Even the elders in the upper pavilion leaned forward. Lan Yue overheard one of them murmur sothing about "remarkable restraint for soone so young."

You have no idea, Lan Yue thought.

Then ca a commotion near the eastern entrance. A palanquin carried by four guards in imperial gold pushed through the crowd, and the sea of disciples parted like water.

Mo Tian stepped out, his robes unnecessarily elaborate, his fan already open, and a smile on his face that said he knew exactly how dramatic his entrance was.

"Did he seriously bring a palanquin to a school tournant?" Tang Xiaoli asked.

"He is the Crown Prince," Bai Xuelan said flatly. "He probably brings a palanquin to breakfast."

Mo Tian spotted Lan Yue in the stands almost imdiately. He changed direction and headed straight for her, his guards scrambling to keep up.

"Lan Yue." He snapped his fan shut and pointed it at her. "I have been thinking."

"Dangerous habit."

"I have decided that today I will sit beside Zhao Lingxi and personally congratulate her after each victory."

"You will not."

"As Imperial Observer, it is my duty to observe closely."

"Observe from your palanquin."

"The angle is wrong."

"The angle is fine."

They stared at each other. The disciples around them watched like they were at a tennis match.

Zhao Lingxi appeared at the edge of the stands, freshly returned from her second victory. She looked between Lan Yue and Mo Tian with the expression of soone who had seen this exact scene play out before and expected to see it again many more tis.

"There is an empty seat next to ," she said calmly. Then she looked directly at Lan Yue. "One seat."

Lan Yue moved so fast she practically teleported. She dropped into the seat beside Zhao Lingxi and crossed her arms, looking up at Mo Tian with the smuggest expression she had ever worn.

Mo Tian’s eye twitched. "This is not over."

"It very much is."

He retreated to the row behind them, close enough to be annoying, far enough to maintain royal dignity. His fan opened and closed in agitated little flutters.

Zhao Lingxi leaned slightly toward Lan Yue. Their shoulders almost touched. "You did not need to rush."

"I was not rushing. I was being efficient."

"You knocked over soone’s spirit tea."

"Casualties of war."

Zhao Lingxi’s lips curved. Just barely. Just enough for Lan Yue to notice.

The red thread between them glowed warm, and Lan Yue told herself for the hundredth ti that it ant absolutely nothing.