Chapter 4: The Naturally Formed Swordmaster Aura, the Spirited Youth

Ye Xuan looked at them, then at his own blue-and-white robe, and suddenly felt his attire was comparatively “low-key”—at least Wang Quan Baye’s youthful clothing looked no different from ancient costume; only someone deeply familiar with Wang Quan Baye could recognize it.

Shaking his head, Ye Xuan stepped through the school gate, his robe swaying gently with each step, the Wang Quan Sword at his waist glinting with a faint golden pattern in the morning light.

Indeed, Ye Xuan’s attire was “low-key” compared to the other students, but he forgot that after fusing with the Wang Quan Baye template, his innate swordmaster aura made him the most striking presence among all the deliberately costumed “cosplayers.”

As he walked toward the school gate, two girls arguing over the breathing techniques of “Demon Slayer” fell silent upon catching his figure out of the corner of their eyes; their sun umbrellas shaped like Nichirin Blades clattered to the ground. A boy nearby, posing with a replica of “Wen Niansha’s” Wind-Eagle Sword from Genshin Impact, stumbled, nearly flinging the glass beads from the hilt.

Even the vice principal unconsciously lifted his eye patch slightly, gazing at Ye Xuan with a dazed expression.

Is this really a student from our school? Or has some character from a work invaded reality?

That face, that aura, that posture—it didn’t look like acting at all.

“Which anime is this character from? I’ve never seen him before.”

Someone muttered quietly.

“Damn, how can someone be this handsome?”

“I used to think ‘aura’ was just hype, but seeing this guy, I’d assume he’s a swordsman even if he had no sword at his waist.”

“Wait, I saw it—there’s writing on his hilt. It looks like ‘Wang Quan.’”

“Wang Quan? Could this be from ‘Fox Spirit Matchmaker’?”

“So is he wearing Wang Quan Fugui’s outfit or Wang Quan Baye’s?”

“It’s probably not Wang Quan Fugui—it looks more like young Wang Quan Baye, the time he first met Dongfang Huaizhu.”

“The seventh day of the seventh month, by the bamboo pavilion on the Huai River.”

Someone murmured softly, tone tinged with melancholy, as if recalling something sorrowful.

“The Bamboo and Baye arc was brutal.”

“I still can’t bring myself to watch it a second time.”

“Who says otherwise?”

The boy beside him sighed too.

“When I first watched the Wang Quan arc, I thought Wang Quan Fugui’s father was a monster—but after the Bamboo and Baye arc, I finally understood the old man’s plight.”

“At first, he too was a spirited young man.”

At this point, they all felt a pang of regret.

They were high schoolers, the age most fond of anime, and “Fox Spirit Matchmaker” was among the top Chinese animations—they’d naturally watched it. But precisely because they had, they reacted this way.

A love story where two souls briefly shared happiness only to be torn apart by death—such tales struck deep into hearts that longed for love but had never experienced it.

With his current senses, Ye Xuan could clearly hear the students’ hushed but unmistakable whispers—he simply didn’t care.

Just as the system had noted before fusing the Wang Quan Baye template, he had acquired all of Wang Quan Baye’s talents and abilities, but not his memories, personality, or emotions.

Dongfang Huaizhu was, to him, merely a favorite anime character—not enough to stir any emotion upon hearing a story he’d already seen.

He passed the fountain outside the classroom building when a dull thud echoed behind him: a girl holding a “Sakura Card Captor” bird-headed summoning staff tripped and fell flat, her phone arcing through the air, destined to plunge into the fountain.

“Careful.”

He reached out casually; the tip of the Wang Quan scabbard lightly tapped the water’s surface. The falling phone suddenly defied physics, floating upward and landing gently atop the girl’s head as she lay sprawled on the ground.

“Clack.”

“Ow, that hurt—wait, it doesn’t hurt?”

The entire motion flowed like water, not a single fold of his robe dampened. It would have been perfect—if not for the girl scrambling to her feet, rubbing her head, surprised it didn’t hurt.

“Thank you.”

The girl stood up. Though the phone landing on her head felt strange, at least it hadn’t fallen into the water—she still thanked him.

“You’re welcome.”

Ye Xuan’s tone was calm; his gaze lingered a moment on her head—yes, no redness. Perfect control.

He had done it on purpose. For one fused with the Wang Quan Baye template, mastering his own strength was elementary—he could never lose control.

As for why he chose her head—he simply thought it would be worse if the phone struck another part of her body.

Everyone had sensitive spots; touch them and they’d shiver like an electric shock. He himself felt nothing, but others did. He knew little about girls—what if the phone landed on a particularly sensitive area? That might cause discomfort.

So he chose the head—he assumed no one’s head was sensitive.

And since the human head was fragile, he deliberately restrained his force. That was why she felt no pain.

The result proved he had done well.

Ye Xuan thought to himself, then continued walking. The girl seemed about to say something, but seeing him leave, she called out quickly:

“Wait!”

“Which class are you in?”

“Senior year.”

Ye Xuan answered without turning back.

“I’m Lin Xue! Class 5, Grade 11!”

“Next time, I’ll treat you to bubble tea!”

The girl called after him.

Ye Xuan didn’t respond, only waved a hand.

Nearby, several girls who’d witnessed the whole scene clutched each other’s arms in excitement: “So cool! Even saving someone, he’s cold and aloof!”

“It’s not quite how I imagined—why land on the head? It should’ve been the back.”

“You don’t get it! That’s contrast! Landing on the head is funnier. What’s the difference between landing on the back or the head? Both are on the body.”

“Hey, something’s off—did you notice? He didn’t say which class he’s in. Just said he’s a senior.”

“That’s normal. Seniors are under close teacher supervision. If she knows his class, she might go looking for him. The teachers would warn him.”

“He clearly thought of that—he didn’t tell her to protect her from getting scolded. He’s so considerate.”

“.”

Ye Xuan heard the voices beside him and twitched slightly at the corner of his mouth.

Are you doing a reading comprehension test?

And even if you were, hearing he was a senior, wouldn’t you think he was indirectly telling her not to develop feelings for him?

Worried she’d get scolded? Where did you get that idea—from a drama? Do idol dramas even have this kind of plot now?

Are you sure you won’t be accused of overthinking?

He saved the phone, not a life.

(End of chapter)