Lin An's Bewilderment: Is This the Battle of True Men?

"Is your school's standard really that high?"

Lin An was silent for two seconds before speaking, his tone filled with genuine confusion.

"Ten years old, level twenty-two—and I can't even cross your school's threshold?"

He said this with complete sincerity.

It was not mockery, nor was it showing off.

He truly could not wrap his head around it.

In Ming Capital, the moment his grades were revealed, Shrek Academy had sent over an admission invitation that very same day.

Teachers from every major department had taken turns visiting his home, each offering conditions more outrageous than the last.

The design blueprints for his One-Word Battle Armor were things he had sketched on a whim.

His Rainbow Dragon martial soul was recognized as the top-tier support type in the world.

And his family, for heaven's sake, owned mines.

Yet, upon arriving at East Sea Academy, he was being called a back-door hire?

Zhou Changxi choked at that look.

It felt as if a stone were lodged in his chest, neither able to be swallowed nor spat out.

Heh.

Level twenty-two?

Probably bought with money.

Those aristocratic children grew up eating rare treasures like meals and playing with thousand-year spirit souls; naturally, their levels were high.

But so what?

Their foundations were hollow, all show and no substance.

How could that compare to the cultivation they had earned with their own fists and feet?

"Useless support-type trash."

Zhou Changxi grinned, revealing a row of yellowed teeth, his voice dripping with malice.

"Once I beat you into the infirmary, don't go running home to cry to your mommy—"

He took a step forward.

The muscles all over his body surged, stretching his school uniform until it groaned under the strain.

The phantom of a giant brown ape emerged behind him.

Then, it transformed into a stream of light, crashing into his body.

Martial Soul Avatar.

Great Strength Divine Ape.

Zhou Changxi's arms thickened by a full circle, blue veins writhing beneath his skin like earthworms.

As he clenched his fists, his bones popped with a sharp, cracking sound.

"Don't think having money makes you something special."

He sneered, bloodshot veins creeping into the whites of his eyes.

"On the training ground—"

"Fists are the only truth!"

Before his voice had even faded, he launched himself toward Lin An like a cannonball.

A foul wind swept across the arena.

Several students below the stage instinctively took half a step back.

Wu Zhangkong stood to the side with his arms crossed, watching the scene with cold eyes.

He had no intention of intervening.

Spoiled young masters like this, who had never tripped or been beaten since childhood, truly believed the world revolved around them.

A few falls would teach him the gravity of the world.

Lin An stood his ground, his face devoid of any fear.

On the contrary, a flicker of excitement ignited in the depths of his eyes.

Finally... finally, he could have a real, head-on fight.

He locked his gaze onto Zhou Changxi's charging figure, and two purple spirit rings suddenly rose from beneath his feet.

The thousand-year spirit rings rotated on the arena, blooming with a brilliant, seven-colored radiance.

First Spirit Skill: Seven-Colored Favor.

In an instant, the elements of heaven and earth were stirred by an invisible hand, surging madly into his body.

The circulation speed of his soul power surged violently.

Seven-colored streams of light swept around his body, and the rainbow light poured down like a waterfall.

The entire arena was dyed into a brilliant ocean of color.

A collective gasp of cold air rose from beneath the stage.

But Lin An did not stop.

His second soul ring lit up simultaneously.

Second Soul Skill: Seven-Colored War Song.

A layer of Rainbow Light Shield emerged on his skin, shimmering with seven colors of radiance.

All attributes increased by fifteen percent.

The effect doubled for dragon-attribute targets—a terrifying thirty percent boost.

His soul power fluctuations climbed to their peak at this moment.

Although his physical foundation was still as soft as tofu.

The attribute bonuses stacked from two thousand-year soul rings.

Already made his momentum completely inferior to no assault-type soul master.

He clenched his fists, his gaze locked onto the direction from which Zhou Changxi was charging.

Come on.

This is what...

Before the words "a real man's battle" could fully form in his mind.

A strange, muffled sound suddenly came from across the way.

Zhou Changxi's feet slipped violently.

It felt as if he had stepped onto an oil-slicked sheet of ice.

His momentum was too fierce, and his center of gravity instantly spiraled out of control, causing him to fly diagonally past Lin An like a misfired cannonball.

His ferocious face twisted into a comical expression as he spun at high speed.

His mouth hung wide open, his eyes bulged, and his arms flailed wildly in the air, as if trying to grab onto a straw for survival.

And then—

BANG!!!

His head slammed solidly against the hard floor at the edge of the arena.

He rolled forward a few more times, finally collapsing in the corner of the arena in a twisted posture.

A front tooth flew out of his mouth, clattered twice, and rolled to the feet of a student below the stage.

The entire venue fell into dead silence.

Everyone was stunned.

On the arena, Lin An still maintained his posture of clenching his fists in preparation for the clash.

His fist hung in mid-air, the shield's light shimmered, and the seven-colored special effects around his body had yet to dissipate.

Yet his opponent was already sprawled on the ground.

Lin An looked down at his own fist, then looked up at Zhou Changxi, who was curled into a ball a few meters away.

His expression was filled with bewilderment.

I haven't even struck yet.

How did he fall?

"Useless."

Wu Zhangkong's icy voice broke the silence.

He looked down at the dazed and battered Zhou Changxi, his eyes devoid of any sympathy, holding only undisguised disgust.

"You can't even walk properly?"

Zhou Changxi lay on the ground, his mouth full of blood, whistling through the gap where his tooth had been, his entire face twisted in pain.

He struggled to lift his head, only to see a puddle of water.

A puddle of water had appeared on the training ground floor at some point.

Just a small puddle, perfectly positioned exactly on the trajectory of his footfall.

His eyes turned red.

It was hard to tell if it was from the pain or the grievance.

"Can you still fight?"

Wu Zhangkong's voice held no temperature.

"If you can't fight, go run laps like a good boy."

Zhou Changxi gritted his teeth, using his unbroken hand to push against the ground and crawl up bit by bit.

His face had turned the color of a liver.

The harsh words he had spoken just moments ago still echoed in the air, every syllable striking him back like a slap to the face.

He couldn't just let it end like this.

He took a deep breath, forcing down the surging blood within him.

This time, he had learned his lesson.

He couldn't rush in too recklessly, and he couldn't underestimate his opponent.

After all, the other party possessed two thousand-year spirit rings; even if he was of the support type, his spirit power level was a full ten ranks higher than his own.

He would play it steady and probe for his opponent's true strength first.

He began to mobilize the spirit power within his body, preparing to store up energy for his most powerful strike.

And then—

His expression suddenly changed.

It felt as if a faucet had been abruptly plugged.

His spirit power stalled violently in his meridians, as if it had slammed into an invisible wall, before it began to surge backward in a frenzy.

"Pfft—"

A mouthful of fresh blood sprayed from his mouth, exploding into a mist of blood in the air.

Zhou Changxi's eyes rolled back, and his body fell straight backward.

Thud.

He landed flat on his back, his limbs twitched once, and then he went completely still.

The entire arena fell silent.

Dozens of eyes stared in unison at the unconscious Zhou Changxi on the fighting platform.

Then, they turned in unison toward Lin An, who stood on the other side.

The youth remained where he was, the light of his protective shield flowing slowly, the seven-colored radiance around his body yet to fade.

He hadn't even moved a single step.

His opponent had simply coughed up blood and collapsed on his own.