The morning after the gala, the "Magic Show" was all anyone could talk about. The school's private social media forum was flooded with slow-motion videos of the "crimson mist" and Chen Feng's effortless charm. By 10:00 AM, the Dean's office—a converted lounge with a plush velvet sofa—was under siege.
A line of "blooming buds" stretched down the hallway. The cheerleading captain, the head of the drama club, and even the captain of the archery team were all holding "resumes."
"Dean Chen! I have experience with stage presence!" one shouted.
"I can hold the top hat! And I look great in sequins!" another argued.
Chen Feng sat behind his desk, hidden behind a mountain of strawberry milk cartons sent by the defeated suitors, Wei and Yan. He looked like a man drowning in adoration.
"Ladies, please," Chen Feng sighed, rubbing his temples. "The role of 'Magic Assistant' requires a high level of spiritual... uh, technical focus. It involves very little sequins and a lot of standing in dark basements. Go back to class."
Just as he managed to clear the room, the door slammed shut. Mu Ronghuan stood there, looking far more disheveled than a Mu heiress should. Her family's "misfortune" had reached a breaking point—her father's business accounts had been frozen by a "ghostly error" that morning.
"Chen Feng," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of pride and desperation. "About the gala... and my family. You knew. You warned me about the basement. I need to know what you—"
Before she could finish, the side door—the one leading to the private lounge—burst open. Lin Xia stumbled out, looking flustered and holding a silk tie she had found in the laundry.
"Brother Feng! You forgot your—" Xia stopped, seeing the Student Council President standing there.
The scene was damning. To an outsider, it looked like the Dean was hosting a private rendezvous with a student while another heiress begged for his attention.
Ronghuan's eyes darted from Xia's flustered face to Chen Feng's unbuttoned shirt. Her face hardened. "You truly are a Flower-Stealing Master. While your 'magic' is distracting the school, you're playing with the hearts of the Lin and Mu families simultaneously!"
"Xia is just returning my laundry," Chen Feng groaned, collapsing into his chair. "And Ronghuan, your family isn't cursed by me; they're being harvested by the same man who tried to ruin the gala. But go ahead, keep shouting. I'm sure the Principal will be here in three... two..."
The door opened. Principal Ye Qingxuan walked in, looking at the chaotic scene with a cold, piercing gaze. "Dean Chen, it seems your 'magic' has attracted more than just applause."
She tossed a black, gilded envelope onto the desk.
"Director Zhao has officially filed a grievance with the Board," she said. "He claims your 'performance' was an unlicensed use of dangerous pyrotechnics. To settle the matter and 'restore the school's honor,' he has invited a 'Traditional Martial Arts Master' to supervise our upcoming Sports Day."
Chen Feng opened the envelope. Inside was a photograph of an old man sitting under a waterfall, surrounded by cracked boulders. The air around the man in the photo seemed to warp with heavy, oppressive Qi.
"Master Tie," Chen Feng muttered. "A practitioner of the 'Mountain-Crushing Fist.' He's a 'Real Master' from the old world's outer sects. Zhao must have spent his entire remaining fortune to hire a hitman with a black belt."
Director Zhao, watching from a remote monitor, smiled. He knew the "Magic Show" had pinned the burial mound, but the Sports Day would be different.
The track and field were being surreptitiously lined with obsidian dust. When the students began to run and compete, their physical exertion would create a "Heat Wave" of energy. Master Tie wasn't just there to fight Chen Feng; his "Mountain-Crushing" techniques were designed to vibrate the earth, shattering the seal Chen Feng had placed at the gala.
"Let him play the 'Flower-Stealer' for now," Zhao whispered. "When Master Tie cracks the foundation of that school, the Sovereign will have to choose: save his reputation, or save the thousand 'blooming buds' who will be swallowed by the earth."