Ding Yumian stood calmly on the stage of the Fire Institute’s grand auditorium, dressed in an elegant, form-fitting qipao that outlined her graceful figure without excess. The fabric shimmered faintly under the lights, dignified rather than ostentatious.
With her phone held to her ear, she spoke evenly, “I’m hosting a ceremony at the auditorium. You should come. As the newly appointed Chief of the Fire Institute, it’s important for you to formally meet the students.”
On the other end, Mo Fan considered her reasoning. He didn’t particurly enjoy formalities, but since he had nothing urgent to handle, he agreed.
However, when he arrived at the Fire Institute’s main auditorium on foot, he paused.
At the entrance of the grand cssical-style building, a long red carpet stretched forward like a ceremonial pathway. Two neat rows of elegantly dressed female students stood on either side, posture straight, smiles warm yet disciplined.
As Mo Fan stepped forward, each section bowed slightly in perfect unison.
“Chief Mo.”
Their voices were soft, harmonious, carefully trained.
He kept his expression steady.
When his gaze dipped even slightly, he was immediately confronted with formal gowns cut lower than expected, revealing smooth skin and subtle curves beneath carefully tailored fabric. His brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
He raised his eyes at once and quickened his pace.
The entire setup felt less like a student ceremony and more like an imperial procession.
These were not ordinary students either. Every one of the young women standing along the carpet was at least an Intermediate Mage. Their strength alone elevated the significance of the occasion.
Even ordinary Super-level council members would not receive such treatment.
By the time Mo Fan entered the auditorium, his expression had fully stabilized.
Ding Yumian and Dongfang Lie were already waiting inside.
He walked directly toward them and lowered his voice. “What’s with the formation outside? Don’t tell me you forced them into this just for spectacle.”
Ding Yumian’s eyes were calm. “No one was forced. They volunteered.”
Dongfang Lie added quietly, “It’s tradition. When a new Chief takes office, the Institute shows unity and respect. Refusing would actually make them feel slighted.”
Mo Fan gnced back toward the entrance.
“…This is excessive.”
“It’s symbolic,” Ding Yumian replied. “Authority must be established clearly from the beginning.”
He studied her for a moment. “And whose idea was it?”
A faint pause.
“Mine.”
Mo Fan exhaled slowly, somewhere between impressed and amused.
“You’re taking this role very seriously.”
“As your assistant,” she replied calmly, “I should.”
Mo Fan gnced once more at the grand hall, at the orderly ranks of mages seated within, at the stage prepared for him.
For the first time since winning, the weight of the position settled in.
Chief of the Fire Institute.
This was no longer a title won in battle.
It was an identity that had to be carried.
He stepped forward toward the center stage.
Behind him, Ding Yumian followed at a measured distance.
And the ceremony began.
Hearing Mo Fan’s concern about the reception outside, Ding Yumian let out a faint, almost amused breath. “Don’t worry. No one was pressured. You’re a rare Chief in the Fire Institute, and your reputation has spread across the campus. Many of the female students are genuinely curious.”
“…Alright,” Mo Fan muttered, though the entire arrangement still made him feel like he had walked into a carefully woven web.
Before he could think further, Ding Yumian suddenly pced a garment bag into his hands.
“This is your Chief’s ceremonial attire. Put it on.”
Mo Fan raised an eyebrow. “There’s a uniform?”
“Every Chief has one.”
Under her lead, they walked through a long corridor adorned with cssical carvings and muted ntern light, arriving at a private dressing chamber.
When Mo Fan unzipped the garment bag, he was relieved. The outfit wasn’t overly complicated. A long bck coat with subtle gold-lined patterns along the sleeves and colr. Clean, structured, sharp. No excessive ornaments. Just presence.
The pure bck fabric carried an unmistakable air of authority.
Since he was already here, he put it on.
When he stepped out, adjusting the colr casually, Ding Yumian’s eyes lingered a fraction longer than usual.
The coat sharpened his frame, gave him a colder outline. Less reckless. More commanding.
Dongfang Lie, standing nearby, nodded approvingly yet still regretting that battle.
Mo Fan rolled his shoulders once. “Not bad.”
He proceeded down the corridor toward the grand hall, Ding Yumian and Dongfang lie walking slightly behind him on either side. The formation felt strangely official—but with the coat flowing behind him and the soft echo of footsteps on polished stone, he couldn’t deny the thrill.
Students along the way bowed slightly as he passed.
“Chief Mo.”
“Chief.”
The respectful calls came one after another.
He told himself it was just responsibility.
But the satisfaction was undeniable.
When the trio stopped before a pair of towering wooden doors, two etiquette attendants bowed lightly. “Chief, please enter.”
The doors were pushed open.
The interior of the hall unfolded in golden brilliance.
Crystal chandeliers reflected warm light across round banquet tables covered in pristine cloth. Long tables were arranged along the sides, yered with exquisite dishes and fine drinkware. The setting resembled a high-end ceremonial banquet rather than a student gathering.
The hall was already filled—over a thousand Fire Institute students present. Most were women, elegantly dressed, gsses of red wine in hand as they chatted in small clusters. Some lounged on the side seating areas, rexed but poised.
Large-scale events like this were rare.
Many had come simply to witness the new Chief.
Yet the moment Mo Fan stepped across the threshold, accompanied by Ding Yumian and Dongfang lie—
The noise died instantly.
Conversation halted mid-sentence.
Every head turned.
The slightly lively hall fell into complete silence.
For one or two heartbeats, nothing moved.
Then, as if rehearsed—
“Greetings, Chief.”
The unified voice echoed through the hall, reverent and powerful. Even the reinforced walls seemed to vibrate faintly from the resonance.
Mo Fan stopped for half a second.
The sheer scale of it was overwhelming.
Behind him, Ding Yumian remained composed, eyes steady.
Authority, once dispyed properly, did not need to be forced.
It simply settled into pce.
Mo Fan stepped forward toward the central stage.
The Fire Institute had acknowledged him.
And from this moment on—
He was no longer just a victor.
He was its ruler.
Mo Fan drew in a slow breath, but outwardly his expression remained steady and indifferent. He gave a slight nod and strode forward, Ding Yumian and Dongfang lie following half a step behind him as he approached the central podium.
He had faced Commander-level demons, stood in disaster zones where the air reeked of blood and ash. Compared to that, could a hall of students truly intimidate him? The faint tension in his chest faded almost instantly.
What he did not notice was the subtle shift in Ding Yumian’s gaze. There was admiration there.
She had once commanded respect as one of the strongest within the Institute, yet she had never seen the crowd fall into such unified silence so naturally. It was not fear. It was not forced deference. It was authority — the kind that did not need to be decred.
Standing at the podium, Mo Fan looked down over the entire hall. Thousands of Intermediate Mages stood before him. Right now they were students, still shaping their paths, but in a few short years many would step into the world as High Level Mages. Some would even break into Super Level.
A Chief’s true power was not only in strength, but in connections. Influence. Networks.
For the first time, Mo Fan fully understood why every newly appointed Chief held such gatherings. It was not indulgence. It was strategy.
He kept his speech brief. Just a few calm words about unity, growth, and responsibility. No long-winded decrations. The shorter he spoke, the more the crowd listened. When he stepped back, appuse surged like a wave.
The hall lights dimmed slightly.
As the central space cleared, a wide stage rose smoothly from the floor. A group of young women stepped forward in flowing aquamarine Hanfu dresses. Their movements were fluid, graceful. Water magic coiled around them in elegant ribbons, forming arcs and spirals that shimmered beneath the chandelier light.
A faint mist spread across the stage, refracting the glow into something dreamlike. Ice magic created thin crystalline mirrors that caught each turn and extension of their dance. The fusion of magic and artistry was seamless.
Mo Fan’s eyes narrowed slightly. Even he had to admit — this was well executed.
Behind him, Dongfanf Lie spoke with a hint of mischief. “The Dance Club insisted on preparing this. They said it was for their Chief.”
Mo Fan did not answer.
The stage shifted again. The floor descended, then rose once more — revealing a wide shallow pool formed from condensed Water Magic. The dancers stepped into it gracefully, their movements transitioning into a synchronized water ballet.
The entire hall felt alive with flowing energy.
Mo Fan folded his arms calmly. He had walked through cities reduced to rubble. He had fought creatures that tore mountains apart.
This?
This was simply… spectacle.
Yet even he could not deny the sheer scale of effort behind it.
Beside him, Ding Yumian watched quietly. Unlike the others, her focus was not on the stage — it remained on him. She seemed to be measuring something. Evaluating.
Mo Fan sensed it but did not turn.
The cheers rose again as the performance concluded. The hall was buzzing with admiration — not just for the dancers, but for the Chief who now stood at its center.
For a brief moment, Mo Fan allowed himself to understand something clearly.
Power was not only forged in battlefields.
Sometimes, it was built in halls like this.
Early the next morning, just as Mo Fan got out of bed, his phone rang. The caller ID dispyed Dean Xiao.
The old man’s familiar chuckle came through the speaker. “How was st night? Enjoy yourself? It’s fine to rex once in a while, but don’t lose yourself in the indulgence.”
Mo Fan immediately understood the subtext. Dean Xiao was reminding him not to be dazzled by the position, not to forget who he was. He replied calmly, “I understand. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Haha,” Dean Xiao ughed. “Don’t restrain yourself too much either. You can only truly let go of something after you’ve experienced it. Young people should learn to bance effort and rest. Come to my office.”
Mo Fan blinked. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
The call ended.
Mo Fan frowned slightly. For the Dean to personally summon him this early, it had to be something important.
After briefly informing his sister, he stepped outside. He had barely reached the gate when a familiar vehicle was already waiting.
Ding Yumian stood beside it, expression composed. “The Dean asked to see you?”
Mo Fan gnced at her. “You knew?”
She gave a small nod. “I anticipated it.”
Mo Fan shook his head lightly. Reliable did not even begin to describe her.
Soon, they arrived at Dean Xiao’s office.
Mo Fan straightened his coat slightly before knocking once and stepping inside.
