Back at the camp, Xie Lang stood behind a large pot, ladling out food with the same fury someone else might use to hurl rocks. His expression was blank, but his eyes—sharp and simmering—dared anyone to meet them. Most didn't. Students quietly lined up, took their bowls, and left quickly. No one wanted to be the target of his wrath.
But then came a voice, cheerful and mocking:
"You're so damn slow I wouldn't make you my servant even if you paid me."
A chubby boy had slumped into a seat nearby, wearing the kind of smug grin only a fool—or a very brave man—could manage. The students around him tensed like rabbits smelling a hawk. Some backed away without hesitation.
Whispers spread like fire:
"Did that moron really insult Xie Lang?"
"He's dead."
"Gonna lose a few limbs, at least."
"Who is he? Does he want to die?"
Even the older students, less prone to gossip, glanced over with quiet interest. After all, Xie Lang wasn't just feared—he was famous for his temper. He'd challenged upperclassmen, once threw a boulder through a training hall window for being "too damn boring," and even tried to fight Han Yi when she reprimanded him.
Xie Lang froze—not from shock, but from boiling fury. Veins bulged on his forehead. His fist tightened around the ladle. Then, slowly, he turned.
But he didn't need to see the face. He already knew the voice.
"This fat piece of shit."
Xie Lang's glare landed on a wide, grinning face. A boy leaned lazily against the table, not a hint of fear in his round cheeks.
"Xu Jin," Xie Lang growled, "aren't you too fat to be out of your tent? You've got a year's worth of food stored in that fleshy mountain you call a body."
Xu Jin waved him off.
"Since when do servants talk back? Besides, this is all pure muscle, you thick-skulled barbarian."
The insults flew like arrows—sharp, loud, and increasingly ridiculous.
"I've seen pigs with more grace than you."
"At least they don't look like they were sculpted out of rage and manure."
"Say that again and I'll stuff your own foot in your mouth."
The exchange had students baffled, especially the newer recruits.
"Why isn't Xie Lang beating him senseless?"
"Seriously. That kid just called him a servant and a pig."
"Is he sick?"
Their confusion didn't last.
A more experienced student, older and calm, spoke between bites of food:
"Relax. They're friends. They've been like this since they joined the institute. That's just how they talk."
Understanding dawned. The tension eased—but the amazement remained. After all, this was Xie Lang—the boy who challenged Han Yi without a second thought, who answered authority with fists. And yet, here he was, tolerating insult after insult from a loud-mouthed glutton.
Because in this chaotic world of rivalries and betrayal, of bombs and bloodshed, Xie Lang had found something rare:
A friend he could insult and fight without hate. A bond too real to need courtesy.
"Hours passed and as people left, Xie Lang started to clean the tables along with the other servants. As he was picking up some plates, a hand reached out beside him to grab some leftover food."
"I guess I'll have to help you, since you're probably gonna break some dishes," said Xu Jin as he started to collect food and plates alongside him.
Xie Lang smiled, a genuine one for a change, before it turned into a sly smirk.
"Like hell I'd believe a fat guy like you picks food up just to clean it. I know you stayed behind to stuff your mouth even more, you glutton."
Xu Jin looked at him and said, "And here I was trying to be nice."
He picked up more plates, not returning the jab. Xie Lang raised an eyebrow at the lack of retaliation, but when he turned around to put the plates on the kitchen counter, Xu Jin stuck out his foot to trip him. Xie Lang, fast as ever, caught himself and regained balance in a heartbeat.
Xu Jin immediately turned and started carrying the rest of the plates, completely ignoring Xie Lang's glare.
"I'll get you for that later."
The two kept working with the other servants until everything was done.
"Finally, I'm done for the day. I really hate this damn punishment," Xie Lang muttered.
Xu Jin handed him a red apple and said, "Well, you still have two more weeks of working like a servant."
"Yeah, you don't look like someone who eats these," Xie Lang said, pointing at the fruit.
Xu Jin groaned. "I don't know if you're deaf or just a moron, but didn't I tell you over and over again that I'm not fat? It's a technique! It makes my body like this, and even this is all muscle."
"Whatever. You stay my friend," Xie Lang said with a grin. "Anyway, did you go on any interesting missions these past few days?"
"I did go on a few escort missions. Nothing too grand. I'm mostly stationed at the mine," Xu Jin answered.
Xie Lang gave a nod and said, "You got lucky with that. Some students were sent on assassination attempts, and from what I heard, some died. So you're lucky you're mostly stationed here."
Xu Jin replied with a grin, "True, I guess I am quite lucky."
Xie Lang noticed that smile and squinted at him. "Wait… why are you smiling? Did you perhaps—"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Xu Jin cut him off smoothly.
"Oh, you did do it! Who did you pay to stay here, huh? Tell me," Xie Lang pressed, jabbing a finger at him.
"The hell do you care? I doubt you'd even want a safe spot during this war, so why do you care?" Xu Jin replied, raising an eyebrow.
Xie Lang shrugged. "True. And to be honest, even if I knew, I can't change my missions. Instructor Tao Mu and the vice dean are the ones giving me my orders."
"Lucky you," Xu Jin muttered with a smirk.
"Yeah, lucky me."
The two of them continued talking and chatting, bantering like always, until the sky dimmed and night began to fall. When it got late enough, they both stood up to head to their designated tents for rest.
"Alright, see you later, fatty. Don't hibernate too hard," Xie Lang said with a smirk.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hope you're excited to serve me food tomorrow," Xu Jin replied, waving him off with a wide grin.
Xie Lang cursed under his breath as he remembered his punishment, grumbling all the way back to his tent. It was clear Xu Jin had won today's battle of words, but despite his irritation, Xie Lang couldn't help but appreciate the laughter his friend brought him.
As Xie Lang entered the tent, the heavy silence of cultivation weighed in the air.
Han Yi was sitting cross-legged on her bed, bluish hair tied neatly behind her back, her body enveloped in a steady rhythm of Qi as she cultivated with a stoic expression. Next to her, Zeng Shiyang was already asleep, his breath even and calm.
Across from them sat Yun Qiu and Wu Jian. Yun Qiu's long reddish hair draped over one shoulder, his sharp green eyes focused, brows furrowed as he absorbed energy in silence. Beside him, Wu Jian sat in the same posture, his short, clean brown hair barely moving with the subtle breeze from the tent flap.
Xie Lang barely spared them a glance. He didn't care if he made noise or not—he couldn't stand being around any of them.
He and Han Yi had never gotten along, always clashing whether in training or in missions. Zeng Shiyang, with his stiff and serious demeanor, was a wall Xie Lang had no intention of breaking through. Yun Qiu and Wu Jian? He outright despised them. Arrogant, proud of their clans, always walking around as if they owned the place. What bothered him most wasn't even their status—it was that they tried their luck with him once too.
The only reason they stopped? His grandfather.
The Ironfist Master. A man feared across provinces, not just because he was a high-stage Rank 2 cultivator, but because he commanded respect from clan patriarchs and empire officers alike. A beast of a man, terrifying even among those at his level.
Xie Lang knew that if his grandfather weren't behind him, things would've gone differently. He'd seen what happened to those without a powerful backer—how easily they were pushed, broken, left to rot under the weight of someone else's cruelty. Yun Qiu and Wu Jian might not have gone that far with others, but Xie Lang didn't believe that was out of mercy. It was simply because they hadn't yet found someone they could toy with without consequence.
That sense of control—over another's life, freedom, sanity—was like a drug. Addictive. Corrupting. And he knew those two already had a taste.
That's why he avoided them. That's why he didn't care to speak to them.
He knew he wasn't perfect either—his temper, his bluntness, his constant aggression and he understood a lot of people hated him for it and he was fine with thay. That's why Xu Jin was different.
They'd been friends for nearly a year now. Trained together. Bled together. Got punished together. Xu Jin was the only one he could be himself around, completely unfiltered. The only one in the institute who didn't flinch at his scowls or back down from his insults, but threw them right back with a grin.
Other people feared him. Others hated him. But Xu Jin? Xu Jin just called him thick-skulled and threw apples at his face.
And for that, Xie Lang was genuinely grateful.
Trust wasn't something he gave easily. But Xu Jin had earned it.
Xie Lang sat on the edge of his bed, arms resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the tent's dark canvas as faint moonlight crept through a small opening. His mind wandered, drifting away from the irritating presence of his tentmates and into the quiet corners of memory.
He thought about the past—how he used to chase power alone. Days and nights spent training until his bones ached and his skin split, pushing himself beyond the limits of his age. He never asked for company. Never thought to. Maybe that's why he was always so loud, so aggressive—just trying to be heard in a world that didn't care if he disappeared.
He had his grandfather, yes. The great Ironfist Master. But that presence, as strong and towering as it was, wasn't always there. Sometimes weeks passed. Sometimes months. And in that space of silence, loneliness crept in.
He remembered the times he tried to make friends. The cowards who smiled with fear in their eyes. The proud ones who treated him like a beast beneath them. Not one ever stood eye to eye with him. Not one ever treated him as an equal.
So he gave up on the idea. On friendship. On companionship. It wasn't worth the sting of disappointment.
Until Xu Jin.
A boy who insulted him the moment they met. A boy who mocked him without fear, laughed too loudly, and never once looked at him like a monster or a mistake. They shared the same humor, the same interest in trouble, the same stubborn fire in their hearts. Xu Jin was someone who'd talk back to a clan heir, even if it meant getting beaten bloody.the boy had his crazy tendencies for money but that was another part xie lang found hilarious of how he always almost loses his reason when money is involved.
And for the first time, Xie Lang didn't feel like he had to perform or defend or intimidate. He could be angry. He could be quiet. He could be himself.
As the wind rustled the tent flap and his gaze turned upward, he thought to himself, voice silent but firm inside his heart:
"It's worth it. Having a friend… is worth the effort and time."
And for a boy who always walked alone, that single truth was heavier than all the fists he'd ever thrown.