One Man Was Enough

Zhong Shenxiu shifted slightly to the side.

Just slightly.

Xiezhou's blade grazed past his left shoulder, missing by a hair.

At the same time, he raised his right leg and stomped down.

Precisely onto Mosi's rolling back.

Bang!

The metal plate shuddered violently.

Mosi was stomped straight into the ground, the metal plate around him sinking into a shallow crater. The light from his turtle shell flickered fiercely twice before going out completely. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his limbs falling limp as he lay motionless.

One kick.

Just one kick.

It had crippled an Iron-Back Turtle that had been defending with all its strength.

Xiezhou's mind went blank.

His sword was still in his hand, his move not yet complete, his body still propelled forward by momentum—

Then he saw the Dragon Spear.

The Dragon Spear did not stab toward him.

Instead, it slid along his blade. The spear shaft spun, coiling like a nimble serpent and twisting his Green Edge Sword from his grip.

Xiezhou's hand suddenly felt empty.

The next instant, the spear shaft lightly tapped his chest.

A gentle force came through it, pushing him back three steps before he fell onto the ground on his backside.

Sitting on the ground, Xiezhou blankly looked up at the golden figure standing before him.

Zhong Shenxiu did not look at him.

Those pale golden vertical pupils passed over him and looked behind him—where Jialong and Lin Zunyuan lay on the ground, one unconscious and the other convulsing.

Then he withdrew his gaze.

The spear shaft lightly tapped again.

This time, it was no longer gentle.

Bang!

Xiezhou's body flew sideways, crashing into the edge of the arena and following in Lin Zunyuan's footsteps.

All four members of Class Four had been wiped out.

The arena fell utterly silent.

Zhong Shenxiu stood with his spear in hand.

Sunlight fell upon him. His pale golden dragon scales flowed with a metallic sheen, while his vertical pupils narrowed slightly in the light, like frozen flames.

Around him, four figures lay sprawled in every direction.

There had been no fierce clash.

No tense confrontation.

They had not even been given a chance to fight back.

From the start of the match until now—

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds at most.

Long Hengxu stood on the referee's platform with his mouth slightly open. The final notes of the words "the match begins," which he had been about to call out, were still lingering on his tongue when the match had already ended.

He had witnessed countless Class Promotion Tournaments.

There had been evenly matched battles, one-sided crushings, dark horse upsets, and veteran powerhouse teams falling apart.

But he had never seen a match like this.

No.

This was not a match.

This was a massacre.

A one-sided, thorough massacre.

Long Hengxu's gaze settled on that golden figure.

Those pale golden vertical pupils.

Those two yellow soul rings.

That Dragon Spear wreathed in blazing white light.

He recalled how, three months ago, Wu Zhangkong had come to him, wanting to bring Zhong Shenxiu—who had been confined for beating up a classmate at the time—into Class Five.

Back then, he had merely thought that Wu Zhangkong was not as cold and uncooperative as the rumors claimed!

Now, he only wanted to ask Wu Zhangkong one question—

You really managed to find a monster like this?

The field was deathly silent.

Every first-year student watching stood with mouths agape and eyes wide, their minds completely blank.

It was not as if they had never seen powerful people before.

But they had never seen anyone this powerful.

Powerful to an absurd degree.

Powerful beyond all reason.

Powerful enough to make them wonder what exactly they had been training for over the past three months.

Among Class Three's group, a lanky boy unconsciously swallowed.

"W-We're fighting Class Five tomorrow?"

No one answered him.

Everyone was immersed in overwhelming shock, unable to recover for a long while.

On the arena.

Zhong Shenxiu dismissed the Sky Light Dragon Spear.

The blazing white radiance turned into specks of light rain and scattered into the wind.

His Martial Soul Possession state also slowly faded. The dragon scales receded, the dragon claws withdrew, and the dragon horns at his temples vanished.

In less than three seconds, he had returned to being that nine-year-old child—standing tall, with sharply defined features and those pale golden vertical pupils.

Exactly as he had been before the match.

As though those ten overwhelming seconds had merely been everyone's illusion.

He turned and walked toward the edge of the arena.

As he passed Gu Yue, his steps paused slightly.

Gu Yue stood there, her dark eyes fixed on him.

Her expression was complicated—shock, confusion, and a trace of something... even she could not explain.

Zhong Shenxiu glanced at her.

Just one glance.

Then he continued onward, stepping down from the arena and walking toward the edge of the field. He stopped in an empty corner.

Throughout the entire process, he did not say a single word.

Gu Yue remained where she was, watching his retreating back.

The wind lifted her long hair and brushed it across her cheeks.

She suddenly recalled chasing after his departing figure last Friday evening.

At the time, she had only felt that he was cold, isolated, and kept everyone at arm's length.

Now, she suddenly understood—

That pride of his, that distance, was not an act.

It was real.

It was the indifference of someone who stood on another level entirely, detached from the mundane affairs of the world.

That indifference was not arrogance, nor was it contempt.

It was simply... that he did not care.

Just as a Giant Dragon would not care about the gazes of ants.

Xie Xie stood beside Gu Yue, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, yet he could not force out a single word for a long time.

He had believed that he had made rapid progress over the past three months. The coordination between the Light Dragon Dagger and Shadow Dragon Dagger had already become second nature to him, and he had been eagerly waiting to show off his skills in today's match.

But what had happened?

He had not even gotten the chance to attack.

The match was already over.

Looking at Zhong Shenxiu's retreating back, Xie Xie suddenly felt his mouth go dry.

He recalled the first day of school, when he had stood at the classroom entrance and met the gaze of that pale-gold-eyed fellow.

Back then, he had merely thought the guy was a little strange.

Only now did he understand—

That was not strange.

That was...

Xie Xie thought for a long time, but could not find a suitable word.

In the end, he gave up.

He simply watched that retreating figure and silently thought:

Thank goodness.

Thank goodness he's my teammate.

Tang Wulin stood where he was, unmoving.

His gaze was likewise fixed on that retreating figure.

His large eyes were filled with complicated emotions.

There was shock.

There was admiration.

And there was also a trace of... indescribable bitterness.

He recalled how he had spent the past three months.

Every day, he got up before dawn to train. He never missed Wu Zhangkong's devilish training, and after returning to the dorm at night, he would continue practicing. His Soul Power had risen from level ten to level twelve, two seals of his Golden Dragon King Bloodline had awakened, and his physical strength far surpassed that of children his age.

He had thought his progress was already fast.

He had thought that, in today's match, he could at least contribute something.

But what had happened?

He had not even had time to release his Martial Soul.

The match was already over.

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

He recalled all the messy thoughts he had had before the match—about Gu Yue, about Zhong Shenxiu, about all those confusing, unspoken feelings.

Now, he found those thoughts laughable.

What did such things amount to before absolute strength?

He raised his head and looked at that figure gradually walking away.

Under the sunlight, that figure stood straight as a pine, his steps steady and unhurried.

As though those ten earth-shattering seconds had been nothing more than an ordinary part of his daily life.

Tang Wulin suddenly remembered something Wu Zhangkong had once said.

"On the path of a Soul Master, talent determines your upper limit, while effort determines your lower limit. But some people are born to break the rules."

He had not fully understood those words back then.

Now, he did.

On the arena, Long Hengxu finally came back to his senses.

He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

"The Class Promotion Tournament—Class Five of the first year wins."

"Class Five will be promoted to Class Four, while the original Class Four will be demoted to Class Five."

His voice echoed across the field.