"Are your school's standards really that high?"
Lin An fell silent for two seconds, then spoke, genuine confusion in his voice.
"At ten years old, with twenty-two levels—he still couldn't meet your school's entry requirements?"
He meant every word.
He wasn't mocking them. He wasn't showing off.
He truly couldn't understand.
In Ming Capital, the moment his results came out, Shrek Academy had sent him an admission invitation that very day.
Teachers from every department had come calling one after another, each offering more outrageous terms than the last.
He had sketched the design for One-Word Battle Armor on a whim.
The Rainbow Dragon's Martial Soul quality was universally recognized as the finest among support types.
And his family was filthy rich.
Yet here at Eastsea Academy, they called him someone who'd gotten in through the back door?
Zhou Changxi choked under that bewildered gaze.
It felt like a stone was lodged in his chest, impossible to swallow or spit out.
Hmph.
Twenty-two levels?
He must've bought them.
Those scions of powerful families ate rare treasures like ordinary meals and treated Thousand-Year Soul Spirits like toys. Of course their levels were high.
But so what?
Their foundations were shaky, their strength all show and no substance.
How could that compare to cultivation earned by throwing punches and taking hits?
"Useless support type."
Zhou Changxi bared a row of yellowing teeth, his voice steeped in malice.
"Just wait till I beat you into the infirmary. Don't go running to your mommy and crying—"
He stepped forward.
His muscles suddenly swelled, stretching his uniform tight until it creaked under the strain.
The shadow of a brown giant ape appeared behind him.
Then it turned into a streak of light and crashed into his body.
Martial Soul Possession.
Great Strength Divine Ape.
Zhou Changxi's arms grew a full size thicker, the veins writhing beneath his skin like earthworms.
As he clenched his fists, his bones cracked and popped.
"Don't think money makes you special."
He grinned viciously, bloodshot veins creeping across the whites of his eyes.
"On the training grounds—"
"Fists are what count!"
Before the words had even faded, he shot forward like a cannonball, charging straight at Lin An.
A gust of blood-scented wind swept across the arena.
Several students below instinctively took half a step back.
Wu Zhangkong stood nearby with his arms folded, watching coldly.
He had no intention of intervening.
Spoiled young masters like this had never fallen down or taken a beating in their lives. They really thought the world revolved around them.
After a few falls, they'd learn their place.
Lin An stood where he was, showing no trace of fear.
Instead, a spark of excitement kindled in his eyes.
At last... at last he could have a proper, no-holds-barred fight.
His gaze locked onto Zhou Changxi's charging figure as two purple Soul Rings rose sharply from beneath his feet.
Thousand-year Soul Rings spun above the arena, spilling brilliant, multicolored radiance.
First Soul Skill—Seven-Colored Favor.
In an instant, the elements of heaven and earth seemed to be stirred by an invisible hand, surging frantically into his body.
The speed of his Soul Power circulation skyrocketed.
Rainbow light swept around him, cascading down like a waterfall.
The entire arena was dyed into a dazzling sea of color.
Gasps rang out from the crowd below.
But Lin An didn't stop.
His second Soul Ring lit up at the same time.
Second Soul Skill—Seven-Colored War Song.
A Rainbow Light Shield appeared across his body, its radiance flowing through seven colors.
A fifteen-percent boost to all attributes.
Against a target with dragon attributes, the effect doubled—a terrifying thirty-percent boost.
At that moment, his Soul Power surged to its peak.
His physical foundation was still as flimsy as tofu.
But with the attribute boosts from two Thousand-Year Soul Rings stacked together,
his aura was now in no way inferior to that of any Power Attack System Soul Master.
He clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the direction Zhou Changxi was charging from.
Come on.
Now this was...
The words "a real man's fight" had barely begun to form in his mind
when a strange, muffled sound suddenly came from across the arena.
Zhou Changxi's foot abruptly slipped.
It felt as if he'd stepped onto an icy patch slicked with oil.
His charge was too fierce. His balance went out of control in an instant, and like a cannonball gone astray, he flew diagonally past Lin An.
His ferocious face twisted into a comical expression as he spun through the air at high speed.
His mouth gaped open, his eyes bulged, and his arms flailed wildly, as if he were trying to grab hold of a lifeline.
Then—
BAM!!!
His head struck the hard floor at the edge of the arena with a solid thump.
His body rolled several more times before coming to rest in the corner in a twisted heap.
A front tooth flew from his mouth, bounced twice with a series of tinkling clicks, and rolled to a stop beside the foot of a student below.
The entire crowd fell silent.
Everyone was stunned.
On the arena, Lin An still stood in his punching stance, ready to strike.
His fist hung in the air, his shield's light still flowing, and the rainbow effects around him had yet to fade.
But his opponent was already face-down on the ground.
Lin An looked down at his fist, then up at Zhou Changxi, curled into a ball several meters away.
His face was filled with bewilderment.
I haven't even hit him yet.
How'd he already go down?
"Useless."
Wu Zhangkong's icy voice broke the silence.
He looked down at Zhou Changxi, who had been knocked dizzy by his fall, with not a trace of sympathy in his eyes—only undisguised contempt.
"Can't even walk?"
Zhou Changxi lay face-down on the ground, his mouth full of blood and air whistling through the gap where his front tooth had been. His face twisted with pain.
He struggled to raise his head and saw a puddle.
At some point, a patch of water had appeared on the training ground floor.
It was only a small puddle, but it sat right in the path of his landing.
His eyes reddened.
He couldn't tell whether it was from the pain or the humiliation.
"Can you still fight?"
Wu Zhangkong's voice held no warmth.
"If you can't, get up and go run laps."
Zhou Changxi gritted his teeth and pushed himself off the ground with the arm he hadn't broken, slowly hauling himself up inch by inch.
His face turned liver-red.
The vicious words he'd spoken moments ago still hung in the air, each one like a slap across his own face.
He couldn't let it end like this.
He took a deep breath and forced down the turbulent blood and energy in his body.
This time, he'd learned his lesson.
Don't charge too hard. Don't underestimate his opponent.
The other boy had two Thousand-Year Soul Rings, after all. Even if he was a support type, his Soul Power Level was a full ten levels higher.
He needed to take it slow and steady, and first figure out what the boy could do.
He began to draw on his Soul Power, preparing to build up his strongest attack.
Then—
His expression suddenly changed.
It felt like a faucet had abruptly been blocked.
His Soul Power seized up in his meridians as if it had struck an invisible wall, then began rushing backward in a frenzy.
"Pfft—"
A mouthful of blood burst from his lips, exploding into a cloud of crimson mist.
Zhou Changxi's eyes rolled back, and his body toppled straight backward.
Thud.
He landed flat on his back. His limbs twitched once, then he went completely still.
The crowd fell silent.
Dozens of pairs of eyes stared at Zhou Changxi, unconscious on the arena.
Then, in unison, they turned toward Lin An, standing on the opposite side.
The boy stood where he was, his shield's light flowing softly, the rainbow radiance around him not yet faded.
He hadn't even moved a single step.
His opponent had simply vomited blood and collapsed on his own.
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