Did You Wear Diapers This Time?

The battle on the stage instantly reached a white-hot climax.

Fan Jun no longer held anything back. A cold glint flashed in his eyes, and his sword momentum turned incomparably fierce.

After only a few exchanges, Chen Qianqian let out a muffled groan. His sword strike sent her flying backward, and she crashed heavily to the ground, unable to rise again.

Yet this time, the cheers from the stands were far sparser.

It was not that the audience did not support him. Rather, the Killing Intent Fan Jun had displayed in those few short moves had utterly overturned his usual image as a refined "gentleman," leaving many fans feeling both unfamiliar and alarmed.

Looking at Chen Qianqian sprawled on the ground, with no strength left to fight back, the anger in Fan Jun's heart ebbed away like a receding tide, and reason regained the upper hand.

Damn it, did I just ruin my image?

He took a deep breath and quickly calmed himself.

He was not short of money. His main purpose in joining the Quota Competition was not the exemption quota.

What he truly needed was to use the Quota Competition's stage, watched by countless people, to put on a splendid drama of a "commoner genius breaking through the blockade of the power elites and painfully winning an exemption quota." It should have been the perfect opportunity for him to harvest attention and solidify his image.

"It's all that Lu Jue's fault!"

At the thought of that name, Fan Jun gritted his teeth inwardly.

If not for Lu Jue's earlier match, his fierce counterattack after being backstabbed should have been interpreted as the perfect script of a "kind gentleman saving a snake, only to be bitten by it, then reflecting deeply after the pain."

"But now, with him as a comparison, I've become an immature child?"

Fan Jun's gaze swept rapidly over the stands, sharply catching the flicker of hesitation in the audience's eyes.

He forcibly suppressed the irritation in his heart and put that signature smile back on his face. This time, however, the smile was far more deliberate.

He stepped forward and gave Chen Qianqian's shoulder a neither-light-nor-heavy tap with the flat of his sword, pushing her off the arena.

The gesture both preserved the victor's bearing and barely maintained his last shred of "grace."

After doing all that, he elegantly sheathed his sword and bowed toward the stands.

Since the audience wanted a perfect "gentleman," then he would continue playing the part. As for that brief loss of composure just now—

He believed that with a little guidance, his fans would naturally find the perfect explanation for him.

After all, people in this world often only wished to see what they wanted to see.

"Winner, Fan Jun!"

At the referee's announcement, waves of applause rose from below the stage.

Although the backstab incident had greatly damaged the image Fan Jun had painstakingly cultivated, this victory still represented a counterattack by commoner students against the power elite faction.

Yet while the applause was still fairly enthusiastic, it was nowhere near the thunderous cheers that had greeted his entrance. It was more like polite applause given merely out of obligation.

Among the scattered murmurs, some still compared Fan Jun's "gentlemanly grace" to Lu Jue's. This time, however, "gentlemanly grace" had become a derogatory term.

An hour later, the second round of the Sixth Grade Quarterfinals concluded. Lu Jue once again crushed an opponent named Wang Shuai with overwhelming strength.

However, during the first and second rounds of the Sixth Grade Quarterfinals, many contestants from commoner backgrounds had been severely injured under the power elites' gauntlet tactics and helplessly forfeited their right to compete. Very few emerged victorious.

The situation in Group A, where Lu Jue was assigned, was especially grim. Of the already small number of commoner students, only he and Fan Jun remained.

An invisible pressure hung in the air.

Every defeat suffered by a commoner student seemed to place another heavy stone on everyone's hearts. The atmosphere in the stands had lost its initial fervor, gaining several shades of heaviness and oppression.

Everyone understood that with every additional commoner contestant defeated, those remaining would face an even crueler gauntlet.

Before the Quarterfinals had even ended, could any commoner contestant truly obtain that precious exemption quota?

Just then, the broadcast sounded again, carrying clearly throughout the arena:

"Next match: Lu Jue versus Zhang Yang!"

The announcement was like a massive boulder cast into a lake, instantly sending layer upon layer of ripples through the crowd. Discussions erupted one after another in the stands.

"Zhang Yang? Did I hear that right? Isn't he only ranked somewhere in the six hundreds? How did he make it to the third round of the Quarterfinals?"

"Heh, what is there to guess? He definitely pulled plenty of strings! This Quota Competition supposedly open to commoners is nothing but a joke!"

"Damn! That's way too unfair! If he got a little luckier and hadn't run into Lu Jue, wouldn't someone with strength ranked in the six hundreds have coasted into an exemption quota?"

"What can we do? He has money and power..."

Under countless watching eyes, Zhang Yang trudged heavily onto the arena.

Facing Lu Jue, his feelings were too complicated to describe.

The scene of him publicly wetting himself that day was still vivid in his mind. Whenever he remembered it, he felt so ashamed he wished he could burrow into the ground.

For that reason, he had spared no effort in greasing palms everywhere, spending huge sums to clear every hurdle, all for the sake of obtaining an exemption quota and recovering some of his lost face.

His path had indeed been smooth. Other than the first two rounds of the preliminary matches, every opponent had either voluntarily surrendered or obviously held back, allowing him to reach the third round of the Quarterfinals with ease.

Yet fate seemed to have played a cruel joke on him. Of all people to meet, he had encountered the one person he least wanted to face: Lu Jue.

Faced with the opponent who had subjected him to such unbearable humiliation, he found that he did not even have the courage to draw his sword.

But on second thought, he felt a trace of relief.

As a child of the power elites, he naturally did not need to risk his life exhausting his opponent's stamina like Jiang Youwei and Chen Qianqian. Since he could not win, he could simply surrender.

Just as he drew a deep breath and prepared to admit defeat, Lu Jue had already seen through his thoughts.

"Student Zhang Yang! May I ask whether you wore diapers this time?"

His voice carried clearly through most of the arena, and some students who knew what had happened could not help letting out suppressed snickers.

"You!"

Zhang Yang's face turned livid. "Lu Jue, don't celebrate too soon. One day, I'll make you kneel and beg me!"

"Why wait for some day? Why not settle it right now!"

"Heh, trying to provoke me is useless. Fight you? I'm afraid you'll dirty my hands!"

Hearing this, Lu Jue knew the guy intended to surrender, so he deliberately raised his voice, making every word carry clearly across the entire venue:

"How about this? As long as your sword can touch me even once, even just the corner of my clothes, I'll count it as my loss. How about it?"

The entire venue immediately erupted.

"Accept the challenge!"

"Zhang Yang, if you're a man, get up there!"

"You don't even dare do that!?"

"Hahaha, that makes me want to go up and try!"

Amid the deafening jeers, Zhang Yang let out a string of cold laughs.

"Heh, I still choose not to fight!"

As he said this, he slightly lifted his chin and assumed the posture of someone making a wise choice. In his eyes, this was not cowardice at all, but the wisdom of judging the situation.

What a joke!

Lu Jue would not foolishly stand there and let him hit him. If Lu Jue threw a punch at him—just thinking of that stone statue made him shudder.

Just as he turned to formally signal his forfeiture to the referee, his peripheral vision inadvertently caught sight of Zhao He below the stage.

The other man's gaze was like a tangible blade, freezing him in place instantly.