CHAPTER 301: CHAPTER 301 - HEADMISTRESS ARRIVAL

The Thornwood Academy sprawled across the eastern section of Shadowveil Town like a monument to power and tradition.

From above, the compound resembled a seven-pointed star—each wing representing one of the inner circles, though the eighth wing remained notably smaller, almost an afterthought tacked onto the grand design.

Gothic spires pierced the sky, their peaks adorned with crystalline formations that pulsed faintly with mana.

Courtyards filled with training equipment separated the main buildings—practice dummies, weapon racks, meditation circles etched into stone.

Students moved between classes in organized clusters, their uniforms color-coded by department and realm.

At the center of it all stood the Administrative Tower—a massive structure of black stone that rose twelve stories high.

Its windows reflected the afternoon sun like watching eyes, and at its peak, the Headmaster’s office overlooked the entire domain.

But today, the academy’s pulse beat strongest in the Council Chamber on the tower’s seventh floor.

The boardroom stretched wide and imposing, designed to remind everyone who entered of their place in the hierarchy.

A long table of polished darkwood dominated the center, flanked by high-backed chairs upholstered in deep crimson.

The head seat sat empty—a throne-like chair reserved for the Headmaster, positioned at the far end beneath a massive banner bearing the academy’s crest.

On either side of the table sat the faculty council. Eleven professors in total, each representing different departments and specializations.

To the left sat a massive woman—nearly seven feet tall with muscles that strained against her formal robes.

Her skin was gray like weathered stone, and when she shifted, it seemed to crack and reform. A golem-born, rare in the elven territories. Her voice rumbled like grinding rocks.

"The Iron Division has three promising candidates this year," she stated, arms crossed. "All mid-Diamond Body realm. Strong foundations."

Beside her sat a lithe figure with scales that shimmered iridescent blue along her neck and hands. Reptilian eyes with vertical slits tracked the speaker with predatory focus. Her tongue flicked out occasionally—tasting the air.

"The Elemental Combat section has five," the scaled woman hissed softly. "Though only two have mastered dual-element manipulation."

Across from them sat a professor whose skin seemed to shift between translucency and opacity—a being of pure condensed mana given semi-physical form. No distinct features beyond vaguely humanoid shape, though feminine curves suggested gender.

"Spirit Cultivation has produced one exceptional student," the mana-being’s voice echoed as if coming from multiple directions. "Peak Diamond Body with signs of breaking through to Platinum within months."

The discussion continued down the table. Each professor reported their department’s standings, listing students by realm and specialty. Names were recorded, capabilities assessed, predictions made.

An elf woman with silver hair and three eyes—the third positioned vertically in the center of her forehead—tapped her fingers on the table. "We should compile the rankings. The seventh circle representatives will arrive in two weeks for preliminary assessments."

"Agreed." This from a hulking figure whose body seemed composed of living wood—bark for skin, leaves occasionally sprouting and falling from her shoulders. "Let’s establish our top tier."

They spent the next hour debating, arguing, eventually settling on a ranked list. The projections were optimistic—Thornwood Academy had produced several strong candidates this cycle.

But as they neared the end of their review, the three-eyed elf hesitated.

"And then there’s... Class F."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

The golem-woman growled. "Don’t remind me."

"Ten students," the scaled professor hissed with obvious disdain. "All Bronze Body realm. Most with damaged or incomplete energy centers."

"Cripples," the wood-being stated bluntly. "They have no future in cultivation. No potential for advancement."

The mana-professor’s form flickered with agitation. "That class is a stain on this academy’s reputation. We should dissolve it immediately."

"The Headmaster personally admitted them," the three-eyed elf reminded the council. Her tone suggested she disagreed with that decision. "Over our recommendations to reject them."

"Since when does the Headmaster even involve herself in admissions?" The golem-woman slammed her fist on the table, leaving a crack in the wood. "She disappeared for months, returns without explanation, and suddenly we’re housing charity cases?"

"Perhaps she had her reasons—"

"Her reasons don’t matter when those students drag down our academy’s standing." The scaled professor’s tail whipped behind her chair. "Class F will be slaughtered in the competition. It will humiliate us in front of the upper circles."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the council.

The three-eyed elf raised her hand, calling for silence. "We cannot dissolve the class without the Headmaster’s approval. She created it; she must disband it."

"Then we wait." The wood-being’s voice carried finality. "After Class F loses in the competition—and they will lose spectacularly—we present a formal vote to dissolve them. The Headmaster won’t be able to refuse when faced with unanimous council decision and empirical failure."

The others nodded, the plan agreed upon.

"Very well." The three-eyed elf stood, preparing to adjourn. "This meeting is—"

The chamber doors exploded inward.

Not literally—no force or magic involved. But the effect was the same as every head whipped toward the entrance, eyes widening in shock.

Headmaster Sylvea stood in the doorway.

"Headmaster—!?"

The word came from multiple mouths simultaneously, shock rippling through the council like a physical wave.

She looked... regal. Composed. Every inch the powerful archmage who commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

Her green eyes swept across the assembled professors with cold authority. Her robes—deep emerald silk embroidered with silver runes—hung perfectly on her frame, showing no sign of the debauchery she’d endured hours earlier.

Her posture was straight, chin lifted, hands clasped in front of her. The very picture of dignified leadership.

"Headmaster Sylvea," the three-eyed elf stammered, recovering first. "We... we weren’t expecting you. The meeting was nearly concluded—"

"Then it’s fortunate I arrived when I did." Sylvea’s voice was steady, controlled. She took a step forward into the chamber.

Behind her, two figures followed.

On her right walked a woman with violet eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the chamber’s light.

Her expression was dangerously calm—the kind of stillness that preceded violence. Black robes hung loose on her frame, and a butterfly tattoo rippled across her exposed shoulder.

On Sylvea’s left stood a man.

The sight of him caused another ripple of shock through the council. Men didn’t attend faculty meetings. Men weren’t even permitted in the Administrative Tower without escort.

Yet here he stood.

Black robes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Crimson eyes that burned with cold intensity, scanning each professor with predatory assessment. His features were sharp, handsome in a way that seemed almost carved rather than born.

The aura radiating from him was wrong. Dangerous. It set every cultivator’s instincts screaming.

"Who—" the golem-woman started.

"Let’s continue the meeting," Sylvea interrupted, moving toward the head seat.

The professors exchanged confused glances but nodded slowly. None dared question further—not with that look in the Headmaster’s eyes.

What they couldn’t see—what the long table and Sylvea’s perfectly positioned robes concealed—was the reality behind her composure.

From behind, Tianlong’s hand remained hidden beneath the back of her robes. His fingers were buried knuckle-deep in her asshole, stretching the tight ring of muscle that was still tender from the brutal fucking he’d given her earlier.

Her pussy was a mess beneath those elegant robes—gaping, dripping, the lips swollen and red from hours of abuse. Cum leaked continuously down her inner thighs, only held in check by a subtle mana barrier she’d erected to prevent it from dripping onto the floor.

Her ass cheeks—thick, pale, perfect—were spread slightly by his invading fingers. He worked them in small circles, keeping her on edge, reminding her body exactly who owned it now.

But from the front, she looked absolutely regal.

The three-eyed professor cleared her throat. "As I was saying, we were just discussing the competition rankings—"

"I’m aware." Sylvea’s voice didn’t waver even as Tianlong’s fingers curled inside her ass, pressing against spots that made her inner walls clench desperately. "Continue your report."

She moved toward the head seat with measured steps, Tianlong’s hand never leaving her body. To anyone watching from the front, it appeared he was simply standing close—perhaps a bodyguard or assistant.

Only Xiang, positioned on the other side, could see the truth. And she watched with detached amusement as her Master finger-fucked the Headmaster’s ass while the woman tried to maintain her dignity.

Sylvea reached the throne-like chair and stood as if thinking something, blinking as she looked towards Tianlog, who held a smile before yanking his fingers back with force, splashing her juices out.

His cum, held within, came out but was contained by her sudden reflex to create a magic circle to save her dignity.

Sylvea’s entire body went rigid as Tianlong’s fingers withdrew with brutal force. The sudden emptiness in her ass made her gasp—a sharp intake of breath she barely managed to disguise as clearing her throat.

Her face flushed deep red, the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck. Sweat beaded at her temples despite the cool temperature of the chamber.

She sat down quickly, movements controlled but urgent.

The moment her ass hit the chair, she felt it—the warm wetness spreading beneath her robes, only barely contained by the hastily erected mana barrier that shimmered invisible beneath the fabric.

"Headmaster?" The three-eyed professor leaned forward, concern etching her features. "Are you quite alright? You look... flushed."

"I’m perfectly fine—!"

"Ughh~!!—"

The word came out strangled as Tianlong’s hand moved suddenly beneath the table.

His fingers found the slit in her robes, sliding through with practiced ease. They bypassed the soaked fabric of her undergarments—pushing the material aside rather than removing it—and his thumb pressed directly against her clit.

But that wasn’t what made her choke.

His other hand gripped a fistful of her pussy hair—the soft green curls that matched the hair on her head—and yanked hard.

The sharp pain shot through her pelvis like lightning.

Her pussy lips pulled taut, the sensitive skin stretching as he twisted his grip, tugging the hair at an angle that made tears spring immediately to her eyes, while his voice came.

"I was saying that I want to become a professor of Class F."