Wu Zhangkong's Worry

The final round of late-night special training finally ended. The night was deep, and only a few soul guidance lamps flickered in the playground of Eastsea Academy. A faint mist, mixed with the heavy breathing of the youths, slowly dissipated under the moonlight.

Xie Xie shook his sore wrists, his eyes shining brilliantly, a smug expression hanging on the corners of his mouth: "With our current strength, wouldn't it be a breeze to take on three people at once in the Class Promotion Tournament?"

He looked at Tang Wulin and Gu Yue with a grin, "I don't think those guys in the other classes are even qualified to be our sparring partners!"

Tang Wulin exhaled deeply, feeling the surging bloodline power within his body, a trace of confidence flashing in his eyes.

Although he didn't say it out loud like Xie Xie, he knew very well in his heart—after the rigorous training Wu Zhangkong had put them through during this period, the progress the three of them had made far exceeded the level of ordinary students.

The gap, perhaps, had already become quite vast.

Gu Yue glanced at Xie Xie indifferently. Although she didn't speak, the slightly upturned corners of her mouth betrayed her thoughts. She had always been calm and rational, but at this moment, a sense of pride couldn't help but stir in her heart.

They were, after all, the bottom-ranked Class Five, but so what?

Tonight's special training had already proven that the three of them, working together, were enough to challenge even stronger opponents.

"Training is over, that doesn't mean you can get carried away."

Wu Zhangkong's voice rang out abruptly, cold and sharp as frost. He was standing in the shadows, his tall, slender figure outlined by the moonlight. His gaze swept over the three of them sharply, his tone carrying a warning: "Progress in strength is a good thing, but looking down on your opponents is a path to self-destruction."

Xie Xie stuck out his tongue and muttered in a low voice: "But we really are strong..."

Before he could finish his sentence, an invisible pressure suddenly bore down on him, scaring him into shutting his mouth immediately.

Wu Zhangkong snorted coldly, the warning in his eyes self-evident.

Unlike the confidence of the three youngsters, Wu Zhangkong's eyes revealed a hint of worry.

That afternoon, that youth with the impossibly sturdy physique, that fierce, unparalleled fist technique, that all-around, flawless, formidable strength...

If he wasn't mistaken, this Grade One Class Three was likely to become their most troublesome opponent.

Thinking of the way Situ Xuan endured hardship and danger, training with such diligence.

Then looking at the giggling Xie Xie before him, who didn't take anyone else seriously...

Wu Zhangkong felt a surge of inexplicable irritation. "Extra training tonight. Gu Yue, you and Tang Wulin will spar."

As he spoke, Wu Zhangkong turned to Xie Xie. "You, spar with me!"

The smile on Xie Xie's face froze instantly, and his Adam's apple bobbed unnaturally.

Teacher Wu Zhangkong was going to spar with him personally?

This was practically going to cost him half his life!

He looked at his two companions for help, only to find that Tang Wulin was already bowing his head to loosen his wrists, while Gu Yue had silently retreated to the edge of the training ground, her fingertips wreathed in a pale silver halo—clearly, both were already prepared to begin the night session.

"Thud!"

Wu Zhangkong raised his hand and delivered a hand-blade strike. Xie Xie hastily raised his arms to block, but was still sent stumbling back three steps by the force. The tingling numbness in his right arm made him wince, and he finally realized that his teacher was playing for real.

"You dare to be distracted during a fight?"

Wu Zhangkong barked coldly, his white training uniform cutting a sharp line in the moonlight. "Show me that arrogance you had just now!"

"Still training this late?"

In the C7 Training Room, Wu Zhangkong pushed open the door and looked at the sweat-drenched Situ Xuan, asking with some surprise and confusion: "Where is Teacher Long?"

Situ Xuan looked at the handsome man with snow-white clothes and icy blue hair. Unfazed, he turned back and familiarly replaced the soul guidance core for the Iron Puppet. "Lao Long went on a date with his fiancée. I'm off today."

Though he said he was off, Situ Xuan didn't actually know what else to do, so he had spent the whole day practicing in the training room.

Hearing the words "fiancée," a trace of desolation flashed in Wu Zhangkong's eyes, as if the lovely girl who once smiled at him had appeared before his eyes once more.

"Hey, Teacher Wu."

After replacing the soul guidance core, Situ Xuan turned his head, looked at Wu Zhangkong's melancholic appearance, and said: "Want to have a match?"

"I don't know how to preach, and I'm too lazy to do so. Instead of reminiscing about whatever it is you're thinking of, why not come and guide this good student of yours?"

Upon hearing Situ Xuan's words, Wu Zhangkong's icy blue eyes froze for a moment, then a bitter smile appeared on his face. His slender fingers unconsciously brushed his waist, where a jade pendant had once hung—a pendant whose owner was lost forever on a certain snowy night.

"I didn't expect..."

His voice dropped, carrying a note of self-mockery. "To be lectured by a little guy."

The moonlight spilled obliquely through the windows of the training room, stretching his shadow long.

In that instant, a sense of exhaustion that Tang Wulin and the others had never seen before emerged from this forever aloof man.

But the next moment, Wu Zhangkong suddenly looked up, his fingers already pressing against his belt buckle.

"Clang—"

A crisp metallic vibration rang out, and the black belt shimmered with a cold light under the moonlight.

Wu Zhangkong flicked his wrist, and the entire belt straightened like a living creature. Ice crystals spread from the handle at a speed visible to the naked eye, and in the blink of an eye, it transformed into a three-foot-long cold ice soft sword.

He tapped the tip of the sword lightly against the floor, and the temperature in the training room plummeted, a thin layer of frost forming on the ground. His icy blue hair fluttered slightly under the agitation of his soul power. The moment the sword tip pointed at Situ Xuan, the entire space seemed to fall silent.

"Let me see,"

Wu Zhangkong's voice turned cold once again. "Just how much weight does the most diligent student of Eastsea Academy really have."

The corners of Situ Xuan's mouth stretched to his ears, a hideous grin that no youth should ever possess.

Moonlight shone upon his lean, muscular frame, with the patterns of the Big Dipper faintly circulating beneath his skin. His pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks, and the aura radiating from his entire body caused the surrounding air to begin to distort.

"Then..."

The final word was still vibrating in the air when Situ Xuan's figure vanished from where he stood. The metal floor beneath his feet let out an unbearable groan as two clear footprints sank into the surface, with spiderweb-like cracks even appearing at the edges.

"...please enlighten me!"

The moment the voice fell, Situ Xuan had already appeared less than a meter in front of Wu Zhangkong. He pulled his right fist back to his waist, his muscles coiled like tightened steel cables, with visible air currents swirling around his knuckles.

"North Star Dragon Strikes Tiger!"

The same opening move as always, the same punch as always.

There was nothing flashy about this punch; it was the purest of straight strikes.

Yet, wherever the fist passed, the air was compressed to the extreme, emitting a piercing sonic boom.

What was even more terrifying was that while this punch appeared straightforward, it actually contained seventy-two variations of follow-up moves. No matter how the opponent blocked or dodged, the subsequent attacks would follow like a shadow.

A trace of surprise flashed in Wu Zhangkong's eyes, but his movements were not slow in the slightest.

The Ice Sword slashed down diagonally at a tricky angle, and wherever the blade passed, the moisture in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals.