First Round of the Class Promotion Tournament

The Class Promotion Tournament was Eastsea Academy's annual grand event, spanning all grades. Outstanding performers would be officially recorded, which carried significant weight for future advancement recommendations, and the material rewards were quite generous as well. For a class, defeating a higher-ranked opponent was an honor, while being defeated by a lower-ranked class was a disgrace. The tournament was held three months after the start of school precisely to give every class ample time to prepare.

The weather was fine today, with clear blue skies stretching as far as the eye could see. At the center of the Intermediate Division's field, a competition platform one hundred meters in diameter had been laid with metal plates ten centimeters thick, with Soul Guidance Barrier Generators installed around it to ensure safety. The matches were held after school, and the dismissal bell had already rung. Students poured out in droves, but only a sparse few headed toward the competition platform—Class Five challenging Class Four was not a match the upper-year students cared about. Only the first-year classes, especially Class Three, which would compete tomorrow, had all come to watch.

After school, Class Five's first-year students formed neat ranks and ran to one side of the field. Three months of intensive training had given them an entirely new look, and both their physical fitness and Soul Power had improved considerably. Meanwhile, Class Four's first-year students strolled over in twos and threes, looking relaxed and undisciplined.

Class Four's homeroom teacher, Kong Hanwen, was short and plump. With a smile plastered across his face, he walked up to Wu Zhangkong. "Teacher Wu, the students you've taught are truly impressive! Look at those orderly ranks. I can't manage that—those brats in Class Four have always been too undisciplined. Please go easy on us in today's Class Promotion Tournament! We may not necessarily advance to Class Three, but you really have to help us hold on to Class Four."

Wu Zhangkong glanced at him, then looked straight ahead, treating him as if he were air.

Kong Hanwen nearly had his nose twisted out of shape with anger—this guy really was exceptionally arrogant. Fine, you were strong, but what could you do with that trash class you taught, no matter how strong you were?

"It seems Teacher Wu is very confident! Then we'll meet on the competition platform." After tossing out that sarcastic remark, Kong Hanwen headed straight for his own class.

Wu Zhangkong's lips moved. Standing beside him, Tang Wulin vaguely made out that Teacher Wu seemed to have said a rather unpleasant word...

At that moment, Long Hengxu, the dean of students, stepped onto the competition platform. "Today's Class Promotion Tournament begins with Class Five challenging Class Four. Teacher Wu Zhangkong, have you decided how many students your class will send?"

The lower-grade Class Promotion Tournament did not draw much attention. As both host and referee, the only thing Long Hengxu was interested in was the kind of students Wu Zhangkong had trained over the past three months—especially that person Wu Zhangkong had specifically admitted his mistake to request last time.

Wu Zhangkong nodded. "Four students from our class will compete."

Long Hengxu turned to Class Four's homeroom teacher, Kong Hanwen. "Class Five will send four competitors. Teacher Kong, you have five minutes to select your participating students."

Kong Hanwen discarded the smiling expression he had worn before Wu Zhangkong and said disdainfully, "Against Class Five, it doesn't matter who Class Four sends out. Jialong, Lin Zunyuan, Mosi, Xiezhou..."

At the edge of the competition platform, Class Five's four students stood quietly.

Zhong Shenxiu stood at the far left, his hands hanging naturally at his sides as he calmly watched the competition platform ahead. His stance appeared casual, yet it carried an indescribable certainty—as though beneath his feet was not the grass of the field, but a battlefield he had long since conquered.

Sunlight fell across his face, gilding his sharply defined features with a faint golden halo. His vertical pupils narrowed slightly under the light, like the instinctive reaction of a feline facing bright sunlight, yet they held an even more primal calm—the calm of a predator.

Gu Yue stood slightly behind and beside him, her jet black long hair gently stirring in the breeze.

Her gaze occasionally swept over Zhong Shenxiu's profile before quickly withdrawing, as if afraid of being noticed. Deep within those black eyes, something stirred—curiosity, scrutiny, and a trace of something even she could not explain...

She did not dwell on it.

She simply stood quietly.

And waited quietly.

Xie Xie stood beside Gu Yue, looking around as he sized up the several Class Four students warming up.

Excitement gleamed in his dark green eyes. After three months of grueling practice, this was the day he had been waiting for.

Tang Wulin stood at the far right.

He was half a head taller than Xie Xie, and his upright figure was especially conspicuous among children his age.

Big eyes, long lashes, a straight nose—his face was nearly flawless in its beauty, yet it was tightly drawn at that moment.

His gaze rested on the four Class Four students.

Jialong was broad and muscular, the exposed muscles on his arms knotted as he stretched his body.

Lin Zunyuan was tall and thin, with a sinister gaze and both hands tucked into his pockets, looking utterly nonchalant.

Mosi was short, stout, and solidly built. He was joking with his teammates, his expression relaxed.

Xiezhou had a slender build, and his eyes revealed undisguised contempt.

Tang Wulin took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

His hand clenched into a fist at his side, loosened, then clenched again.

Level twelve.

His Soul Power was only level twelve.

Compared with those two-ring opponents, he was more than a full rank behind.

But Wu Zhangkong had said that his level twelve strength could rival the combat power of an ordinary two-ring Soul Grandmaster.

Tang Wulin did not know how much of that he could believe.

But he knew that he had to believe it.

Because the match was about to begin.

His gaze shifted away from the Class Four students, and he instinctively looked to his left—

Zhong Shenxiu was still standing there, motionless as a statue.

There was no expression on that sharply defined face. Those pale golden vertical pupils calmly watched ahead, as if the match before him, the opponents, even the entire field, had nothing to do with him.

Or perhaps...

Everything was under control.

Tang Wulin suddenly felt somewhat dazed.

He remembered Gu Yue's retreating figure as she chased after Zhong Shenxiu last Friday evening.

He remembered Xie Xie's words: "The two of them came together."

He remembered Gu Yue standing half a step behind Zhong Shenxiu at that moment, in such a natural posture, as though it was simply how things ought to be.

He remembered the polite yet distant smile on her face when he had invited her to dinner.

That smile was different from the look in her eyes when she looked at Zhong Shenxiu now.

Tang Wulin lowered his lashes.

A moment later, he lifted his head, drew a deep breath, and suppressed those distracting thoughts.

The match.

Win the match first.

Everything else...

Could wait until later.

"Class Five's competing students, take the stage."

Long Hengxu's voice rang out from the competition platform.

Zhong Shenxiu stepped forward.

His pace was not fast, yet it carried a peculiar sense of rhythm—each step was nearly identical in length, and every footfall landed with the precision of a pendulum.

Gu Yue followed behind him.

Xie Xie and Tang Wulin walked up side by side.

The four of them stepped onto the competition platform and took their positions.

Over on Class Four's side, Jialong, Lin Zunyuan, Mosi, and Xiezhou also stepped onto the platform.

Jialong walked at the front. His burly frame made the metal plates boom with every step, and his presence was imposing. His gaze swept across Class Five's four students, then paused slightly when he saw Zhong Shenxiu—

Those pale golden vertical pupils were looking at him.

Calm, focused, without the slightest emotional fluctuation.

As if he were looking at a stone, a tree, something utterly insignificant.

Jialong frowned.

That gaze made him very uncomfortable.

It was not provocation, not contempt, not even fighting intent—only pure, absolute... disregard.

As though he did not even deserve to be called an opponent.