CHAPTER 307: CHAPTER 307 - YUNA

"Yuna! Yuna! YUNA!"

The chants hammered through the air like war drums, dozens of voices bleeding together into one massive roar that shook the training grounds.

Sweat dripped down faces, fists pumped skyward, and somewhere in the back, a woman was literally standing on a young man’s shoulders, screaming her lungs out while the guy had his eyes closed as if it were too much for him to handle.

The afternoon sun beat down on the stone platform where two figures danced their violent waltz.

A shadow crossed over the crowd—quick, predator-fast—and heads snapped up. The crimson-haired woman was already airborne, her body twisting mid-flight like a damn missile. Her leg came down in a brutal axe kick that would’ve caved in someone’s skull.

Her opponent rolled aside just in time.

CRACK

Yuna’s heel slammed into the platform instead, and the stone exploded like it was made of crackers.

Chunks of rock pinged off the barrier surrounding the arena.

Dust bloomed up in a grey cloud, and when it cleared, there she stood—perfectly balanced on one leg, the other still extended from the impact. Her crimson cat ears twitched, tail swishing behind her as if this was just another Tuesday.

Her opponent—a blonde girl named Seria—stumbled back, chest heaving. "You did it again! That same damn move! You never learn, do you, Yuna?"

The crowd ate it up, screaming louder.

Seria lunged forward, her leg whipping around in a spinning hook kick that could’ve taken Yuna’s head clean off.

But Yuna was already moving, dropping low and springing backward in one fluid motion that made her look weightless.

And holy shit, that outfit.

The black material clung to her like a second skin—some kind of spandex or latex hybrid that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It wrapped around every curve, every dip, from her neck down to her ankles.

The white borders running along the sides only drew more attention to how the fabric strained across her chest and hips.

Her breasts pressed tight against the material, perky and round, the outline of her nipples faintly visible through the sheen.

Her thick thighs flexed with each movement, the muscle definition clear as day, and that ass—damn, that heart-shaped curve jiggled slightly with every landing.

Her red hair flew wild around her shoulders as she touched down, tail flicking for balance.

"That was indeed the same thing Aelric told me," Yuna said, voice calm as still water.

Then she moved.

One instant she was five feet away. The next, her foot connected with Seria’s face with a meaty thwack that made half the crowd wince. Seria’s head snapped back, her body spinning like a ragdoll before she crashed into the barrier wall.

"Urgh..." She slid down, unconscious before she even hit the ground.

The training yard exploded.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"Did you SEE that?!"

"That’s our girl!"

Yuna stood in the center of the platform, chest rising and falling with deep breaths that made her breasts strain even more against the tight latex.

A bead of sweat rolled down between them, disappearing into the valley of her cleavage. She reached up, fingers threading through her crimson hair, pushing the wild strands back. One stubborn lock fell across her face, and she tucked it behind her cat ear with an almost delicate gesture.

Her tail curled around her left thigh, the red fur slightly damp.

Then her ears perked straight up.

"I never thought to see that kind of tight dress in this world."

The voice cut through the noise like a blade through silk—smooth, deep, carrying weight that had nothing to do with volume.

Every head turned.

Yuna’s ruby eyes went wide, her pupils contracting to slits for just a second.

There, kneeling at the edge of the platform, was a man holding a piece of the broken stone she’d shattered.

He wore flowing black robes with golden embroidery that caught the light, making him look like some kind of living artwork. The patterns seemed to move when he did, imperial dragons coiling up his sleeves.

But it was his face that made her freeze.

Black hair fell past his shoulders in a sleek cascade that probably felt like silk. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, lips that curved into something between a smirk and genuine amusement.

His eyes though—a mix of crimson and gold—looked absolutely mesmerizing, locked onto hers with an intensity that made her tail puff up slightly.

He was beautiful. Not pretty-boy beautiful like Aelric with his perfectly styled blonde hair and practiced smile.

This was different. Dangerous. The kind of handsome that made you think of ancient emperors and battlefields soaked in blood.

Yuna blinked. Once. Twice.

The man slowly rose to his feet, and the entire atmosphere shifted. The stone in his fingers crumbled to dust without any visible effort, the powder trickling between his fingers like sand.

He didn’t even seem to notice, just dusted his hands together and clasped them behind his back.

The temperature dropped. Or maybe it rose. Yuna couldn’t tell because suddenly the air felt thick, heavy, like trying to breathe underwater.

That strange smell hit her—something like incense and ozone and old paper, all mixed with an undercurrent of raw power that made her instincts scream.

Around them, the crowd had gone dead silent. Not a single cheer. Not even a cough.

The man’s mismatched eyes never left hers. His smile widened just a fraction, revealing perfectly white teeth.

"So you’re the top ranker within Class F." His voice rolled out like distant thunder. "Nice to meet you. I am your new professor."

He took one step forward.

"Zhao Tianlong."

Yuna’s tail went rigid. Her ears flattened slightly against her head, an instinctive response to a predator entering her space.

Her thighs tensed, muscles coiling beneath that skin-tight outfit, and her breasts rose with a sharp intake of breath that made the latex creak faintly.

"Professor?" The word came out rougher than she intended.

’89% favorability, one right?’ Tianlong, due to using his morphing artifact and keeping his external appearance calm and completely stoic, couldn’t help but observe her body.

First, those ears on her head ignited the strange hidden perverseness that was the foundation of his character.

However, rather than lust, it was more like a desire to tease her, especially given how she ignited a visible reaction within him, knowing she had such a high favorability value for the protagonist.

She was gorgeous, but again, he had already seen far more beautiful women moaning and showing such hot bodies that he might really have reached saturation, where a woman’s body aroused him in old ways.

Though he, as usual given his character, was going to fuck her—although this time, rather than her body, he was more interested in playing the villain game like those MCs whom he never understood.

Yeah, he was kind of trash who only had fuck, boobs, and all that in his mind, but in the end, his wives were not tools for him. Hell, their moans made him feel complete and also kept him sane in this fucked-up world filled with cultivators like old-world corporates busy fulfilling their egos to earn power.

As side NPCs should be, the crowd started murmuring now, whispers rippling outward like dropped stones in a pond.

"Did he say Zhao?"

"That family name... who cares? Damn, he kinda looks hot."

"Shh... he is the new professor, you screwhead!"

’Ah, shit...’ Tianlong, hearing words from female students, just recalled that indeed he was in a world with reverse psychology—not that men were gay and womanish, but just social standards favored women.

But given he needed to deal with Yuna, who within a few hours was going to save the protagonist from getting bullied—as per plot information received from him by the system—he focused on the present.