The Good for Nothing Seventh Young Lady

Translator : Raz P., White Sky

Luoqiu, who once wanted to rely on the Royal Academy’s team to recover some lost ground in the selection competition, had become a rat running across the street that everybody shouted to kill[1].

He had already chosen to leave Deathre Academy and could never go back And the Royal Academy was no longer able to accommodate him. Fengling pursed his lips and said nothing more.

Failure was failure. There was no excuse for it.

Seeing Fengling’s mood so downcast, Nock could only let out a sigh.

“I came to see you tonight because there is one thing I want to tell you. It may be an opportunity for you…”

……

The celebration of the Flaming Red Squad lasted until the early morning. Once every student had wasted all their strength, they then dragged their soft bodies back to their respective rooms to rest.

Shen Yanxiao, nally able to have some peace, also went back to her own room.

The Dragon God could only curl his tall body into a ball and rest on a chair.

Under the pressure of some great master, apart from resting on the chair, he could only lay on the oor. With his tall and strong body, cramming himself onto a chair looked very ridiculous.

Vermillion Bird and Taotie lay on the soft bed. During the day, the small tsundere bird bullied the little foodie all the time, but in the evening, their appearance was totally dierent. Vermillion Bird’s little hands were stretched out, resting on Taotie’s small tummy, which prevented Taotie, who was resting on the edge of the bed, from falling out of it.

Xiu sat in his chair, quietly looking at the moonlight outside the window. When he heard the sound of the door opening, he turned his head slightly.

“Was it noisy?” Shen Yanxiao didn’t expect that Xiu hadn’t slept yet. She then thought that the celebration of the Flaming Red Squad might have been so noisy that he couldn’t fall asleep.

“I don’t need to sleep,” Xiu said faintly.

He was just a soul right now. He couldn’t feel any physical fatigue, and there was no need to rest his brain. Shen Yanxiao pursed her lips. She walked along the wall, got a chair and sat down.

“If the plan goes smoothly, the Flaming Red Squad and I should be placed at Mingye’s side. I may be then able to nd Satan.” Shen Yanxiao looked at Xiu. Streaks of moonlight penetrated the window, spilling into the room. The faint moonlight hung over Xiu’s body, making his white clothes appear more elegant. His long ink-black hair was casually draped over his shoulders; it unexpectedly looked very striking in the lighting. His golden eyes that were half-narrowed were carrying a trace of indierence, but it did not make

people feel cold.

So much so that, when Shen Yanxiao saw such an appearance, she felt rather extremely comfortable.

“You have Taotie beside you. The spiritual link between him and Vermillion Bird is still available.” Xiu did not intend to stop Shen Yanxiao.

“The Ancestor of the Undead, he looks very strong.” Shen Yanxiao recalled Taotie’s evaluation of the Ancestor of the Undead

“I have fought with him on the battleeld, and his strength is worthy of recognition.”

Strength that was recognized by Xiu…

Shen Yanxiao immediately understood the status of the Ancestor of the Undead.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. If there is any danger, have Taotie contact Vermillion Bird in the rst instant.” Temporarily unable to live inside Shen Yanxiao’s body, Xiu must nd out Shen Yanxiao’s every

action through Vermillion Bird.

Xiu didn’t have a hundred percent certainty that he could completely hide his own aura under the eyes of the Ancestor of the Undead. Moreover, in the palace of the undead, there was a good chance that there would be his old enemy, Satan.

“If you conrm that Satan is with the Ancestor of the Undead, come back immediately and cancel the

plan.” Xiu instructed.

If Satan were in the palace of the undead, then even if Shen Yanxiao’s mouth went broke from persuading him with a silver tongue, the Ancestor of the Undead would never dare to fall out with the Devil Race at

this time.

[1] ‘a rat running across the street that everybody shouted to kill’ Target of scorn