The room fell silent.
Ning Rongrong pressed her lips into a thin line.
Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate, Heaven-reaching Record, Divine Mechanism Hundred-Refinements, Dual-Perfect Hands, Origin of Qi, Spirit Binding and General Command.
Six Soul Skills.
Each one was something she had never even heard of before.
And this meant the person before her was at least a six-ring Soul Emperor.
An eighteen-year-old six-ring Soul Emperor was undoubtedly an extraordinary genius.
If she refused now, she would be a fool.
But if she agreed readily right away…
Ning Rongrong felt her pride burning.
Her lips moved a few times.
Words stuck in her throat, unable to come up or go down.
“I…”
“This young lady can…”
“You…”
She started three different sentences, but none formed completely.
Her face flushed crimson enough to drip blood, the tips of her ears looked scalded, and even the skin on her neck turned pink.
Her fingers clutching her skirt twisted until her knuckles turned white.
Her whole stammering demeanor was completely unlike the usual haughty young lady of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
Yang Xing watched her without urging.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Ning Rongrong took a deep breath.
Closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them again, her almond-shaped eyes still held traces of struggle, but more so a desperate resolve to throw caution to the wind.
“This young lady can…
agree to it.”
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s hum.
She abruptly lifted her chin, speeding up her words: “But these Soul Skills you showed me and your claim that you can teach them to me had better all be true.”
She glared at Yang Xing.
“Otherwise, this young lady will make you regret it.”
Yang Xing narrowed his eyes and smiled.
“Guaranteed true, guaranteed true.”
His tone was as light and cheerful as humming a tune.
Seeing his smiling face, the tension Ning Rongrong had held in her chest all day finally loosened.
The moment it loosened, the nature of a twelve-year-old girl returned.
“Really?!”
She darted in front of Yang Xing as if she were a different person, slapping her hands onto his arms, her eyes shining like stars.
“Then teach me quickly!
Quick, quick!
I want to learn them all!
I want to learn Heaven-reaching Record, I want to learn Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate, I want to learn that one that makes wooden animals move too!
And that one with endless Soul Power!
All of them! You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Not a single one can be left out!”
Her slaps on Yang Xing’s arms grew faster and faster, like beating a drum.
Then she suddenly stopped.
She tilted her face up and blinked.
The light in her almond-shaped eyes shifted from urgency to a deliberate, performed softness.
Her lips pursed slightly, her chin tucked in a bit, and her eyelashes fluttered twice.
“Master~”
Her voice was sweet enough to pull strings.
A classic Ning Rongrong-style coquettishness.
The kind that worked every time in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
“Just teach me quickly~ okay?
Please~”
Yang Xing shuddered all over at that “Master~”.
Not from discomfort.
From being too comfortable.
This girl was downright unfair when she acted spoiled.
That exquisite face paired with those watery eyes—who could withstand it?
He cleared his throat, unable to resist reaching out and ruffling Ning Rongrong’s head.
Just a casual stroke.
From the crown of her head to the back, the feel was excellent.
Ning Rongrong’s expression froze for an instant.
A faint crack appeared on that sweetly smiling face.
Being patted on the head…
From the day she was born until now, no one except her father Ning Fengzhi had ever done that to her.
Now, a man she had known for less than two hours had just patted her head.
The hairs on her back stood on end.
But she swallowed it down.
The smile at the corner of her mouth froze for less than half a second before she forced it back up.
Although the curve was stiffer than before, it still managed to stay on her face.
“Mhm, mhm,” she responded vaguely, her eyes holding both amusement and impatience.
“Master, hurry up and tell me, which one are you going to teach me first?”
Yang Xing looked at her small face, which was smiling somewhat stiffly but still trying its best to maintain the expression, and felt overjoyed inside.
That’s more like it.
A good disciple.
How nice.
He savored the pleasure of “being looked up to by a disciple” for about three seconds, then withdrew his hand from Ning Rongrong’s head.
“No rush, no rush, it’s a small matter, a small matter.”
He waved his hand, his expression as relaxed as if he had agreed to something trivial.
“I can teach you all of them, every single one.
But…”
He suddenly tilted his head and looked at Ning Rongrong.
Their eyes met.
Ning Rongrong’s coquettish gaze met Yang Xing’s suddenly serious face, and she was taken aback.
“Good disciple, have you forgotten something?”
Ning Rongrong tilted her head.
“What your master promised you earlier—the method to deduce how the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda can become the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.”
Ning Rongrong’s expression changed.
A faint trace of hesitation surfaced in her previously sparkling eyes.
She frowned, scrutinizing Yang Xing’s face, and the corners of her mouth turned downward.
“You’re not actually serious about this, are you?”
Her tone held not anticipation, but a subtle dismissiveness, as if she was afraid the other party would ruin a perfectly good hand.
“Forget it.” Ning Rongrong waved her hand, her attitude as casual as shooing away an annoying fly.
“As long as you’re willing to teach this young lady those two Soul Skills from earlier, I’m already willing to acknowledge you as my master.”
She looked at Yang Xing, her tone unusually softening a bit, even carrying a hint of sincere advice.
“There’s no need to fabricate those false things anymore.
It might even make this young lady think less of you.”
This was Ning Rongrong’s way of saving face.
She didn’t say, “You can’t make it up,” she said, “Don’t make it up.”
She offered him a way out.
After hearing this, Yang Xing reached up and scratched the back of his head.
His expression was somewhat thoughtful, yet also somewhat lazy, as if weighing something of little importance.
His fingers scratched the back of his head twice, and his gaze drifted toward the hole in the roof that had been cut by the wind blade.
Sunlight streamed down through the hole, illuminating half of his face.
A few seconds later, he let out a resigned sigh.
“Alright.”
Yang Xing withdrew his hand, looked at Ning Rongrong, and a somewhat indifferent smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“But whether you believe it or not, since I promised, I have to deliver.
I’ll just do a simple deduction and tell you, my good disciple.”
He paused.
“Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”
Upon hearing this, Ning Rongrong’s face showed a layer of helplessness mixed with a bit of disdain.
Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back.
Forget it.
She was still counting on this newly acquired cheap master to teach her those miraculous Soul Skills.
Wind-Queen’s Mystic Gate, Heaven-reaching Record, and all those messy fire control, lightning control, and transformation techniques.
If she could learn them all, who would dare call Ning Rongrong a mere Support System vase who can only stand in the back row when she goes out in the future?
The mere thought of that scene—the image of dominating the battlefield and leaving everyone stunned—made Ning Rongrong’s lips curl uncontrollably.
Her eyes curved into crescents.
Her expression completely crumbled.
She laughed without a trace of the restraint expected of a young lady.
Yang Xing was watching her.
Ning Rongrong sensed his gaze and immediately straightened her face.
She cleared her throat, coughing twice.
“Ahem.”
She resumed her reluctant posture, chin slightly raised, peering down at Yang Xing from the bridge of her nose.
“Then go ahead and deduce.”
After a pause.
“I’ll reluctantly listen.”