The moment Luan Ling opened her eyes; she heard a sentence by her ear.

“Boss! Who are we chopping today?”

She jolted awake.

Staring at the group of creatures in front of her—hair dyed neither properly red nor properly yellow, faces pierced with nose rings and lip studs—she instantly curled up into the corner in a posture that could only be described as evolutionary backtracking.

And while she was doing that, she sensed that something was very wrong.

Her hands were wrong.
Her feet were wrong.
Everything was wrong.

The underling standing at the front looked at her, who was still glaring blankly at her own palm, and asked in confusion, “Boss?”

“Don’t call me boss!” Luan Ling raised a hand to stop him. The moment the words left her mouth, she nearly bit her tongue.

If the strange limbs had merely made her uneasy, this clear, unmistakably male voice shattered her last shred of hope.

She had turned into a man?!

Luan Ling could feel her thoughts tangling themselves into a visible mess.

“Boss, that girl from yesterday is already tied up. We thought she was someone impressive but turns out she’s just a total rookie!”

Luan Ling nodded absentmindedly. Rookie was good. Healthy, nutritious—wait.

Rookie?

The little monsters chattered endlessly beside her. After piecing their words together, Luan Ling finally understood her situation.

These bizarrely dressed creatures—who looked like they’d been molded by Nüwa using her feet—were, in fact, immortals of the Heavenly Realm. Or rather, immortals who had gone astray.

Their leader was Sik Zhuo, grandson of the Dragon King, son of the Third Prince.

His noble lineage wasn’t what made him infamous in the heavens. What truly cemented his reputation was something he’d done not long ago—

He blew up a school.

Specifically, the Heavenly Academy.

According to rumor, the scene had been utter chaos. Dragon fire raged uncontrollably, and even water summoned with standard immortal techniques couldn’t extinguish the blaze. Immortal lords fled with younger gods in tow, while the older students ran for their lives clutching their homework.

And her very first trial upon enrolling?

Capture this guy and drag him back to school.

Having resolved to face it head-on, she’d prepared thoroughly. She’d practiced her spells, trained her physical strength, even flown laps around the heavens every day—just to be ready for the battle.

Yesterday, after finally locating this gang’s hideout, she had delivered all the threatening lines she’d rehearsed for days and was about to reenact Nezha Conquers the Sea—

When several bolts of lightning struck from the sky.

Her vision went black.

And when she woke up, she was like this.

“Boss, what should we do with that girl? Same as before—tie her up and kick her down to the mortal realm?”

They’d done this before?!

Luan Ling snapped. That “girl” was almost certainly her original body.

She cut them off. “Uh… don’t touch her for now. You can all leave. I need some time to think.”

Her authority worked. Soon, the room was empty.

Once she was sure they were gone, Luan Ling jumped off the bed and rushed to a water jar. She leaned over and stared at her reflection.

She’d come to slay a dragon. Not only had she failed—she’d suffered a catastrophic loss.

Gazing at the young man reflected in the water, she cried while marveling at how stunning dragon-kind truly were.

Honestly? She was kind of handsome.

As her thoughts drifted, her mood improved slightly.

Why care about looks, you ask? Couldn’t a goddess just cast a spell and change back?

Ha.

She tried manipulating a pomegranate, making it float slowly upward—only for it to abruptly change course and fire its seeds at her like cannonballs.

She dodged in a panic, nearly beaten to death by fruit.

Yes. She’d already tried using magic.

But her spells either failed outright or, like that deranged pomegranate, went completely haywire.

As an immortal, she couldn’t even perform the most basic flight anymore.

She had lost her wings.

Gnawing angrily on the remaining half of the pomegranate, Luan Ling pulled herself together and pushed the door open.

Since she’d inexplicably turned into this infuriating dragon, Sik Zhuo might also be inhabiting a different body. She needed to confirm what condition her body was in.

Led by one of the underlings, she soon arrived at the place where “she” was being held.

“Boss, the rookie’s in there!”

Luan Ling coughed, resisting the urge to kick him back into the mortal realm for a factory reset. She forced a smile.
“Please don’t call an immortal maiden a chicken. You may leave. I’ll interrogate her alone.”

“Boss…” The underling hesitated, glancing up at her.

Luan Ling felt uneasy. She wasn’t a storm-summoning goddess right now. If a fight broke out, she’d probably defeat herself before anyone else did.

She never wanted to experience pomegranate-induced terror again.

“I just wanted to say…” the underling said carefully, “could you maybe… stop smiling at us like that? You’re too sunny.”

There was no gang boss aura at all.

Luan Ling stared at him, utterly baffled. Why was the Heavenly Realm’s criminal underworld suddenly having a literary renaissance?

“Get lost,” she said coldly.

The underling’s face instantly bloomed with infatuation before he floated away dreamily.

Disgusting.

She shook her head, turned around, and shoved the door open.

At the sound, the woman sitting on the floor snapped her head up, hostility blazing in her almond-shaped eyes.

Seeing her own pitiful state, Luan Ling felt a deep ache—for her body.

She closed the door, crouched beside the person bound tightly with an Immortal Binding Rope, and whispered, “Just so you know, I don’t understand what’s going on either. Don’t scream, okay?”

She wasn’t afraid Sik Zhuo would call the underlings—she was their leader now.

She was afraid he’d scream loud enough to summon immortal lords. Then she’d never be able to clear her name.

Once he seemed calmer, Luan Ling pulled the cloth from his mouth.

The next second, the room echoed with a pig-like shriek.

“AAAAAAAH—!”

Luan Ling flailed as he bit down on her hand. “I might not be a dragon, but you are definitely a dog!”

After a chaotic struggle, she broke free, glaring at the culprit as blood sprayed from her hand.

“Even dogs would be ashamed! You bit yourself!”

The bound “girl” leaned lazily against the wall, tilting her head with the smug arrogance of someone untouched by societal consequences.

“I bit my own body. What’s wrong with that?”

The injury was on his body—but the pain was in her heart.

Luan Ling had never imagined that phrase could be used this way.

“Bite all you want!” Her wound healed quickly—basic immortal constitution still applied. “I’m using your body now. If you want to skip school, that ship has sailed.”

She was triumphant. After everything she’d endured, the problem was practically solved.

“This won’t work forever,” Sik Zhuo said lightly. Squinting against the light, he looked at her using his own face and grinned.
“My grades will improve. Yours, little goddess? You’re doomed.”

He was right—and she hated it.

“Wrong homework is better than no homework,” she muttered, convincing herself.

They just needed to get back first.

If both of them couldn’t use magic, surely other immortals could fix this.

“I’m not going,” Sik Zhuo shrugged.

Luan Ling didn’t hesitate.

She picked him up—bridal style.

He stared at his own face with a single expression: Are you insane?

“I don’t like this either,” she said stiffly. “But you’re not cooperating.”

Their silent standoff stunned every underling they passed.

“Did Nüwa patch the sky again?”
“Did Nezha start another riot?”
“Did I eat too many wild mushrooms?”

Whispers followed them.

Even passing immortals stared, trying—and failing—to pretend they weren’t watching.

Luan Ling endured it all and marched toward the academy.

She hated being high-profile.

But her wings were broken.

And worse—she’d lost navigation abilities.

The heavens were vast. The hideout was remote. She had to ask for directions repeatedly.

Stories often spoke of immortals falling to the mortal realm, losing their powers, and suffering endlessly.

She hadn’t even faced her tribulation yet—and her powers were already gone.

“How about we forget it?” Sik Zhuo said lazily. “There are plenty of immortal lords who can help. No need to go to school.”

“Shut up,” Luan Ling snapped. “If jumping off the South Heavenly Gate would fix this, I’d throw you down myself.”

Seeing him make infuriating expressions with her innocent face made her want mutual destruction.