Final Match Day, The Entire Academy Watches

As dusk fell, the setting sun dyed the sky a golden red.

But the Jiangnan Martial Arts Academy's fighting arena was even more boisterous than it had been during the day.

News of the finals had spread like wildfire, covering the entire academy in less than half an hour. Not only had the entire Regular Class poured out, but many students from the usually aloof Genius Class had also come upon hearing the news.

The spectator stands surrounding the arena were already full. Later arrivals could only stand in the aisles, lean against the railings, or even climb into nearby treetops and onto rooftops. The roar of the crowd was deafening, the scene far grander than yesterday's top 100 competition or today's top 4 match.

"How many people are here?" a freshman marveled.

"At least three thousand!" an upperclassman replied excitedly. "Almost the entire Regular Class is here, and thirty percent of the Genius Class too! Look over there, those people in white are from the Genius Class!"

On the spectator stands on the east side of the arena, where the view was best, sat six young people with extraordinary auras.

They were all wearing the academy's exclusive white uniforms with gold trim—the uniform of the Genius Class. The six sat there, and a circle naturally formed around them. Students from the Regular Class dared not approach, casting only looks of awe from afar.

Among these six, two were particularly eye-catching.

One was a silver-haired, blue-eyed girl with a delicate face sculpted like ice and snow, exuding a cold and aloof aura. She sat quietly, her gaze calmly fixed on the stage, as if all the surrounding noise was irrelevant to her.

Lin Xue'er, second in the Genius Class.

The other was a chubby boy, always wearing a roguish smile, who was engrossed in eating a bag of snacks. He chatted with the person next to him as he ate, his voice loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"Hey, who do you think will win this match? I bet a hundred Academic Credits on Wang Hao!" the chubby boy shouted.

"Zhao Ritian, can you keep it down?" a refined boy wearing glasses frowned.

"What are you afraid of? Everyone thinks the same thing anyway," Zhao Ritian said nonchalantly. "That Wang Hao kid is annoying, but his family is genuinely rich. You know about that Golden Scale Armor, right? Mortal Tier Top Grade! What's Lin Fan got? His head to smash it with?"

"Not necessarily." A cold voice chimed in.

The speaker was a boy with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, holding a long sword, his expression indifferent. He was Wang Chao, the top-ranked student in the Genius Class.

"Brother Wang Chao, you think Lin Fan can win?" Zhao Ritian's interest was piqued.

"I saw his sword strike against Zhang Kuanghu just now," Wang Chao said faintly. "It was fast, very fast. If Wang Hao is careless, he might lose."

"What's the use of speed if it can't break through his armor?" Zhao Ritian shook his head.

"Then it depends if he can find a weakness in the armor," Wang Chao said no more, closing his eyes to rest.

Lin Xue'er had not spoken the entire time, merely scanning the crowd with her eyes, as if searching for something.

Besides the students from the Genius Class, several important figures were seated in the front rows of the spectator stands.

Liu Batian, the academy's vice dean, sat in the center, his square face expressionless. Beside him were several instructors from the Regular Class, including Lin Fan's homeroom teacher, Teacher Zhang.

Teacher Zhang's expression was grave at the moment, his hands unconsciously clenched. He was proud that Lin Fan had reached the finals, yet worried about the upcoming match.

Wang Hao's armor was too troublesome.

Even more troublesome was that on Liu Batian's other side sat a middle-aged man in brocade robes.

The man was in his forties, bearing a strong resemblance to Wang Hao, but with more authority and eyes as sharp as an eagle's. Two black-clothed guards with deep auras stood behind him, clearly experts.

He was Wang Zhenshan, the head of the Wang Family of Jiangnan City.

Wang Hao's father had personally come to watch.

"It's rare for Patriarch Wang to visit the academy. Are you here to watch your son compete?" Liu Batian asked calmly.

"My son is not talented enough to make Dean Liu laugh," Wang Zhenshan said with a slight smile, but his tone held an undeniable confidence. "However, I believe Hao'er will not disappoint me in this final."

"Oh? So confident?"

"In a martial artist's duel, cultivation, martial skills, equipment, and mindset are all indispensable," Wang Zhenshan said slowly. "Hao'er's cultivation is at the peak of 2nd grade, his swordsmanship has been guided by a master, his equipment is protected by the Golden Scale Armor, and his mindset... he has been waiting for this battle for a long time."

"That student named Lin Fan is not simple," Liu Batian reminded him.

"I know," a cold glint flashed in Wang Zhenshan's eyes. "Born from commoners, he went from early 1st grade to 1st grade Perfection in one month. His swordsmanship is strange; he is a genius. But precisely because he is a genius, he needs to be put in his place. Otherwise, he might go down the wrong path."

The words were polite, but the meaning was clear: he intended to use Wang Hao to suppress Lin Fan.

Teacher Zhang's heart tightened upon hearing this. Just as he was about to speak, Liu Batian interjected, "Within the academy, it's a fair competition. Who wins and who loses will only be known after the fight."

"Of course," Wang Zhenshan's smile remained unchanged.

As they spoke, the crowd suddenly stirred.

"He's here! Wang Hao is here!"

Wang Hao entered the arena from the east entrance, surrounded by a group of followers. He had changed into a brand-new white martial artist's uniform, his sword sheath inlaid with gold, and the armor on his chest gleamed faintly. He looked full of vigor and spirit.

He saw his father in the spectator stands, nodded, and then strode onto the stage, closing his eyes to meditate while waiting for his opponent.

"What a grand entrance!" someone said enviously.

"He has the capital for it; you can't envy what you don't have."

"Where's Lin Fan? Why isn't he here yet?"

"Could he be scared?"

Amidst the murmuring, two figures slowly appeared from the west entrance.

Lin Fan was walking ahead. He was still wearing his washed-out gray cloth clothes, holding a wooden sword, his steps steady. Behind him followed Chen Dahu, his arm bandaged.

Compared to Wang Hao's magnificent entourage, Lin Fan's side appeared extremely shabby.

But for some reason, the entire venue fell silent for a moment as he stepped onto the stage.

That calmness, that composure, stood in stark contrast to the surrounding clamor, instead creating an inexplicable sense of pressure.

Lin Fan's gaze swept across the spectator stands. He saw Teacher Zhang's worried eyes, Liu Batian's scrutinizing stare, Wang Zhenshan's icy gaze, and also the several white-clothed students from the Genius Class.

Finally, his gaze settled on the stage.

Wang Hao had already opened his eyes and was staring at him coldly.

Their eyes met, and it felt as if sparks were flying in the air.

"I thought you wouldn't dare to come," Wang Hao said.

"I'll do what I promised," Lin Fan replied calmly.

"Promised? What did you promise?"

"I promised to win the championship," Lin Fan paused, "and I also promised to get justice for Dahu."

Below the stage, Chen Dahu's eyes welled up.

Wang Hao laughed, his smile full of mockery. "With you? With that broken wooden sword?"

"With this wooden sword," Lin Fan raised the sword in his hand.

The wooden sword was crude, with several cracks on its blade. Compared to the gold-inlaid longsword at Wang Hao's waist, it looked ridiculously shabby.

Yet, it was this wooden sword that had pierced through all its opponents' defenses.

Including Zhang Kuanghu's shoulder.

"Do you know what I hate most about you?" Wang Hao suddenly asked.

"I don't know."

"I hate your pretense of composure the most!" Wang Hao's voice suddenly rose. "A lowly commoner from the slums, why are you acting so pretentious in front of me? You think winning a few matches can change your background? Dream on!"

These words were extremely harsh, and many commoner students below the stage changed their expressions.

But Lin Fan's expression remained unchanged. "Are you done?"

"You—"

"If you're finished, we can begin," Lin Fan turned to the referee. "Can we begin?"

The referee was a middle-aged man. He glanced at Liu Batian below the stage, and after receiving a nod, he announced loudly, "Final match, Lin Fan versus Wang Hao! Rules are the same: no intentional maiming or killing. The match ends when one party surrenders or loses combat effectiveness! Now, both sides prepare!"

Wang Hao took a deep breath and drew his longsword.

The blade was gleaming, reflecting a cold light under the setting sun—a top-grade Mortal Tier Cold Iron Sword.

Coupled with the Golden Scale Armor on his chest, his equipment was worth over five thousand Academic Credits, enough for ordinary students to strive for years.

And Lin Fan had only a wooden sword and a simple cloth outfit.

The equipment gap was so vast it was despair-inducing.

"Begin!"

As soon as the referee finished speaking, Wang Hao moved.

He didn't probe like usual; instead, he launched a killing blow from the start!

The Cold Iron Sword transformed into a stream of light, stabbing directly at Lin Fan's throat!

This strike was fast, accurate, and fierce, carrying a cold killing intent. It was clearly intended to end the fight quickly!

Gasps erupted from below the stage.

But Lin Fan's reaction was even faster.

He sidestepped half a step, his wooden sword slashing upwards diagonally, precisely striking the spine of the Cold Iron Sword.

"Clang!"

The sound of metal clashing echoed.

Lin Fan's arm jolted, and a deep sword mark appeared on the wooden sword—a top-grade Mortal Tier weapon against an ordinary wooden sword, a material advantage.

But he had successfully deflected Wang Hao's sword.

Wang Hao's expression shifted slightly. He changed his sword's momentum, slashing horizontally towards Lin Fan's waist and abdomen.

Lin Fan retreated, pressing his wooden sword down, blocking again.

"Clang!"

Another scar appeared on the wooden sword.

"You can't block this!" Wang Hao sneered. His sword technique changed again, transforming into a sky full of sword shadows, enveloping Lin Fan.

Flowing Light Sword Technique—the Wang Family's inherited sword technique, known for its speed. The sword light danced like fireflies, dazzling the eyes.

The audience below was mesmerized.

"What a fast sword!"

"Wang Hao's swordplay is even stronger than before! He was hiding his strength!"

"Lin Fan is in danger!"

Indeed, amidst the storm of sword light, Lin Fan could only parry and dodge. With every clash between the Wooden Sword and the Cold Iron Sword, another scratch appeared, sending wood chips flying.

If this continued, the Wooden Sword would shatter completely within twenty moves at most.

And once disarmed, facing the fully armored Wang Hao with bare hands, Lin Fan would undoubtedly lose.

"Brother Fan..." Chen Dahu clenched his fists nervously.

In the spectator stands, Teacher Zhang's palms were sweating.

Wang Zhenshan's lips curved into a smile.

In the Genius Class seating area, Zhao Ritian shook his head. "There's no suspense anymore. Lin Fan is definitely going to lose. The weapon difference is too great, how can he fight this?"

Wang Chao said nothing, merely staring intently at the stage.

Lin Xue'er's gaze, however, was fixed on Lin Fan's hand.

The hand gripping the sword was steady.

Even though the Wooden Sword was constantly being damaged, even though he was completely suppressed, that hand remained as steady as a rock.

And his footwork...

A flicker of surprise flashed in Lin Xue'er's eyes.

On the stage, Wang Hao fought with growing excitement.

He could feel Lin Fan's resistance weakening, the Wooden Sword already covered in cracks, liable to break at any moment.

Victory was within his grasp!

"It's over!" Wang Hao suddenly roared, retracting his sword light and transforming it into a straight white line – the ultimate move of the Flowing Light Sword Technique, Single Line Flowing Light!

This strike condensed all of Wang Hao's Strength and Speed, the sword tip aimed directly at Lin Fan's heart!

He intended to end the match with this one blow!

Below the stage, countless people held their breath.

Chen Dahu closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer.

But in that instant, Lin Fan moved.

He didn't parry; he didn't dodge. Instead, he stepped forward, straight into the sword light!

At the same time, he thrust out the Wooden Sword in his hand.

It was still the basic sword technique, Gale Stab.

But this stab was unlike any previous strike.

It was fast to the extreme!

So fast that as the Wooden Sword shot out, a sharp whistling sound echoed through the air!

So fast that before Wang Hao's sword could hit Lin Fan, Lin Fan's Wooden Sword had already struck Wang Hao's chest first!

To be precise, it struck the very center of the Golden Scale Armor, on the thickest golden scale!

"Pfft!"

A dull thud.

The Wooden Sword didn't pierce the armor – that was impossible.

But the immense impact sent Wang Hao flying backward, crashing heavily onto the edge of the stage!

And his strike, "Single Line Flowing Light," lost its momentum and grazed Lin Fan's shoulder, only tearing his cloth clothes.

The entire venue fell silent.

Everyone stared blankly at the stage.

What had just happened?

Lin Fan, with a Wooden Sword about to break, had sent the fully armored Wang Hao... flying?

"How... how is this possible?" Zhao Ritian's snack dropped to the floor.

Wang Chao opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing within them.

Lin Xue'er sat up slightly.

On the stage, Wang Hao struggled to get up, his face ashen.

He looked down at his chest. The Golden Scale Armor was intact, not even a scratch.

But the impact of that strike had left his chest feeling heavy, his blood churning.

If not for the armor, that blow would have pierced his heart.

"You..." Wang Hao stared at Lin Fan, a look of shock appearing in his eyes for the first time.

Lin Fan flicked the Wooden Sword in his hand.

The Wooden Sword was already covered in cracks, its tip severely worn, looking like it could fall apart at any moment.

But the hand holding the sword remained steady.

"Your armor is very good," Lin Fan said, his voice calm. "But no matter how good the armor is, it can't protect everywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Lin Fan slowly raised the Wooden Sword, "that last strike was just to test how strong your armor is."

"Now that I've tested it."

"Next, I'll attack the places the armor can't protect."

Wang Hao's pupils constricted.

Below the stage, Wang Zhenshan shot to his feet!