Crazed Whisperer

Chapter 7: Dark Sparks

The tension in the academy lingered long after the incident in the cafeteria. Feng Hao's outburst and Xuan Jing's silent retaliation were the talk of the campus—students whispered in the halls, their eyes flickering towards Xuan Jing when they thought he wasn't looking. Even the professors seemed cautious around him, careful not to cross whatever invisible line separated them from the boy who had made a clan heir kneel with nothing but a stare.

Xuan Jing, however, remained utterly indifferent. He moved through the academy like a ghost, his presence felt but never truly acknowledged. The only ones who dared approach him were the instructors or the occasional servants who attended to the elite students’ needs. The rest? They wisely kept their distance.

But for Xuan Jing, none of this mattered. He had his own agenda. A student’s life, with its classes, social structures, and petty rivalries, was merely a facade—a cover for the true reason he remained at Crimson Spire Academy.

Today, as he walked through the rain-soaked courtyard, his black coat flapping slightly in the wind, he was reminded of that purpose. The air had changed—an almost metallic tang permeated the atmosphere, a faint yet unmistakable sign that something unnatural had been here recently.

Xuan Jing stopped, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings. He was alone—no other students dared to venture outside in the rain—but there was something else here. He could feel it, a lingering presence that sent a chill down his spine.

His gaze fell on a nearby tree, its branches swaying slightly despite the lack of wind. Xuan Jing approached, his eyes narrowing. Beneath the tree, something was moving—something dark, shifting in the shadows.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand, a flicker of dark energy dancing across his fingertips. The shadows seemed to recoil, writhing as though in pain, and then they dispersed, revealing a figure crouched beneath the tree.

It was a girl—a student, judging by her uniform—but her skin was pale, almost translucent, her eyes wide and empty as she looked up at Xuan Jing. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, and then she opened her mouth, a soft, raspy whisper escaping her lips.

"Help... me..."

Xuan Jing frowned, his eyes narrowing. There was something wrong with her—something that went beyond simple fear. Her aura was twisted, corrupted, and as he looked closer, he saw the faint outline of a dark mark spreading across her neck, the veins beneath her skin turning black.

"A curse," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. He knelt down, his fingers brushing against her skin, the dark energy within him reacting to the corruption. It was old magic—twisted, the kind that left scars even after it was gone.

The girl shivered, her body trembling as Xuan Jing's power touched her, the dark mark receding slightly, the black veins fading back into her skin. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and for a moment, Xuan Jing saw something in them—a glimmer of hope, of desperation.

But he knew better. This wasn't his fight. He had no reason to get involved in whatever mess this girl had found herself in. He had his own problems, his own battles to fight, and he wasn't about to take on someone else's burden.

He stood, his hand dropping to his side as he turned away, his gaze cold and indifferent. The girl reached out, her fingers brushing against his coat, but he pulled away, his eyes narrowing.

"Find someone else to save you," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "I'm not a hero."

He walked away, the girl's soft cries fading into the rain behind him. He didn't look back, his steps steady and deliberate as he made his way through the courtyard, the dark energy within him thrumming softly, a reminder of who he was—and who he wasn't.

Heroes were for fairy tales. Xuan Jing had no interest in being anyone's savior.

As he reached the main building, the sound of hurried footsteps caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see Wei Lin, his personal servant, approaching. The young man’s red hair was plastered to his forehead from the rain, his closed eyes focused intently on Xuan Jing.

"Master Xuan," Wei Lin said, his voice calm despite his obvious haste. "There’s something you need to see. It’s... urgent."

Xuan Jing’s eyes narrowed, a sigh escaping his lips. He hated interruptions, especially when they came from Wei Lin—if it was urgent enough for his servant to rush through the rain to find him, then it couldn’t be anything good.

"Lead the way," Xuan Jing said, his tone resigned. He followed Wei Lin through the winding halls of the academy, his curiosity piqued despite himself. As much as he disliked being dragged into things, there was a part of him that couldn't help but wonder what could be so important.

They stopped in front of a door—a door Xuan Jing recognized as belonging to one of the academy's restricted sections, a place reserved for only the highest-ranking students and faculty. Wei Lin pushed the door open, stepping aside to let Xuan Jing through.

Inside, the room was dark, the only light coming from a single, flickering lamp hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a large table, and on it lay a body—a body covered in deep, jagged cuts, the flesh twisted and torn as though by some kind of creature.

Xuan Jing's eyes squinted slightly, his gaze locking on the body. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the torn skin, the cold, lifeless flesh sending a shiver down his spine.

"Another attack," Wei Lin said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "This is the third one this week. The faculty is trying to keep it quiet, but... people are starting to talk."

Xuan Jing frowned, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the body. The wounds were fresh, the dark energy lingering in the air telling him that whatever had done this was still close—too close.

He had heard the whispers, the rumors of attacks happening throughout the academy, but he had dismissed them as nothing more than gossip. But now, seeing the body in front of him, he knew that this was something else—something far more dangerous.

And yet, as he looked down at the body, he felt nothing. No fear, no anger, no need for revenge. Just a cold, detached curiosity. Like he'd ever care if a human being died.

"Do they have any leads?" he asked, his voice calm.

Wei Lin shook his head. "No. The faculty is stumped. They think it might be a rogue creature, but... the wounds don’t match anything we’ve seen before."

Xuan Jing nodded, his eyes still fixed on the body. He could feel the dark energy pulsing through the room, the air thick with the stench of blood and magic. And for a moment, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—this was something worth his time.

But then he turned away, his expression cold once more. He had no reason to get involved. This wasn't his fight, and he had no interest in becoming a hero, some selfless ass. Xuan Jing rathers very much to be as selfish as he pleases.

"Let them handle it," he said, his voice flat. "It's their job, not mine."

He walked out of the room, leaving Wei Lin standing there, his expression unreadable. Xuan Jing had no interest in saving anyone, no matter how dire the situation.

But as he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming—something dark, something dangerous. And whether he liked it or not, he knew that sooner or later, he would be dragged into it.

After all, the world had a funny way of not caring about what he wanted. And in this world of magic, monsters, and twisted ancient secrets, no one was ever truly safe.

Not even Xuan Jing.

"I guess I'll have to-"