Old Hag Zhou Yi, Eat My Attack!

Hearing Xiao Yan's words, the referee finally snapped out of his daze. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty, before swinging his flag down with force.

"District Five, New Student Class Nine, Xiao Yan wins!"

The announcement shattered the silence surrounding the arena.

Xiao Yan did not linger, turning to walk off the stage.

Just as he turned, his gaze inadvertently swept across the spectator stands high above.

In the center of the stands, Mu Jin stood by the railing, grinning from ear to ear.

As the homeroom teacher of Class Nine, seeing her student sweep aside the team from Class One—a team in which Zhou Yi had placed such high hopes—in a mere second, her satisfaction was written all over her face.

Standing beside Mu Jin was a figure entirely out of place in the joyous atmosphere.

It was an old woman with skin like wrinkled parchment and hair as white as frost, coiled atop her head.

She was glaring viciously at Xiao Yan as he descended from the stage, her eyes filled with extreme malice.

For an elite team from her own class to be instantly wiped out by a guy who hadn't even released his martial soul was, to the perpetually arrogant Zhou Yi, no different from receiving a resounding slap in the face in public.

Xiao Yan stopped, lifted his head, and met that venomous gaze.

He despised this kind of self-righteous posturing.

The moment their eyes locked, the Fuxi Bagua Formation Map spun rapidly deep within Xiao Yan's dark, profound pupils.

The vast spiritual power within his Sea of Consciousness condensed instantly, transforming into an invisible, silent ripple of zither music. Like a blade tearing through the void, it crossed the distance of several dozen meters and slammed ruthlessly into Zhou Yi's Sea of Consciousness.

High on the platform, Zhou Yi had no time to mount any defensive reaction.

She felt a heaven-shaking roar erupt in her mind; her entire Sea of Consciousness felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer, churning up massive, turbulent waves.

The intense sensation of tearing caused her vision to plunge into darkness, and a metallic, fishy sweetness surged up from the depths of her throat.

"Pfft—"

Zhou Yi's body swayed violently, and a mouthful of blood sprayed directly onto the railing in front of her.

Only then did terror finally seize her heart.

That eleven-year-old boy, with just a single glance, had nearly caused her Sea of Consciousness to collapse entirely!

She dared not stay a moment longer. Panic-stricken, she withdrew her gaze, wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, and stumbled as she turned to push through the crowd, fleeing the spectator stands in a wretched state.

Mu Jin, still immersed in her joy, turned at the commotion only to see Zhou Yi's panicked retreating back and the bloodstains on the railing.

Mu Jin had not sensed the brief clash of spirits that had just occurred.

She simply assumed that the old hag Zhou Yi was narrow-minded and had been so infuriated by Class One's crushing defeat that her blood had surged in reverse, causing her to vomit blood.

Thinking of this, Mu Jin felt even more delighted and waved happily at Xiao Yan down below.

Xiao Yan returned a gentle smile, as if nothing had happened, and turned to walk toward Xiao Xiao and the others, who were already waiting by the side of the arena.

"Is it over already?" Xiao Xiao leaned in, her large eyes filled with boredom.

Xiao Yan nodded.

The assessment task for the first day consisted of only this one match. Looking around at the other arenas, most were occupied by freshmen at levels ten or twenty engaged in dull, drawn-out brawls; there was truly nothing worth watching.

The four of them immediately decided to leave the assessment area and return to the small woods by the Sea God Lake.

The afternoon was once again dedicated to special training in the Dream Arena.

Xiao Yan sat upright on a bluestone, the sound of his zither rising and falling.

When Xiao Xiao, Ning Tian, and Wu Feng opened their eyes in the gray, hazy dream space once more, standing opposite them were no longer three Spirit Elders, but a team led by a Spirit Ancestor of over level forty, plus two Spirit Elders of over level thirty!

The pressure had doubled.

The three girls were beaten until they cried out in the dream, but Xiao Yan was enjoying himself immensely.

Maintaining such a high-intensity, high-fidelity Dream Arena required him to simultaneously process the combat logic of the opponents, the physical feedback of the environment, and the mental states of the three girls.

This massive and complex process of information handling was simply an excellent method for tempering his spiritual power.

Every simulation continuously expanded the capacity of his Sea of Consciousness.

Over the next few days, the round-robin tournament of the Freshman Assessment proceeded in full swing.

Through the first nine rounds, the path to advancement for the four of them was extremely smooth.

Relying on their wealth of combat experience and the double suppression of their levels, Ning Tian's team steamrolled their way through.

Ning Tian's precise buffs, Wu Feng's explosive output, and the addition of Xiao Xiao—a violent girl who wielded a heavy cauldron with one hand and possessed immense strength—made this combination the nightmare of every team in District Eight.

The image of Xiao Xiao's petite frame swinging a heavy black cauldron to smash people was deeply etched into the minds of many freshmen.

In contrast, the style of Xiao Yan's matches was quite bizarre.

For nine full matches, he still had not revealed his martial soul or spirit rings.

Yet, in every match, he managed to pull off new tricks that made one's scalp tingle.

Once, the moment the referee shouted "start," Xiao Yan began playing his void zither, and the three aggressive spirit masters opposite him all collapsed onto the arena floor in unison, snoring like thunder.

Young people really are great; they can just drop off to sleep anywhere!

There was another time when they faced a team skilled in tactical kiting.

As the sound of the zither drifted out, three seconds later, those three people suddenly clutched their heads and wailed, apologizing to one another while holding hands and voluntarily jumping off the competition platform.

The most absurd match occurred when the opposing trio charged halfway, only to suddenly act as if possessed; with bloodshot eyes, they began brawling with each other until all three lay on the ground, bruised and battered, unable to crawl back up. Xiao Yan hadn't even moved a single step.

This unknown method was far more terrifying than being crushed by pure strength.

Freshmen from other classes privately sought out students from Class Nine to inquire about Xiao Yan's background, but the students of Class Nine kept their lips sealed.

Whenever someone asked, the students of Class Nine would cross their arms over their chests, look up at the sky, and put on an inscrutable expression.

"The level our monitor has reached is beyond your imagination. Take a brother's advice: if you run into him, just surrender. It'll save you some suffering."

This god-like rhetoric actually worked.

In the subsequent rounds of the competition, there were indeed a few teams that, upon drawing Xiao Yan, raised their hands to the referee to forfeit the moment they stepped onto the platform.

Without a doubt, Xiao Yan had become the biggest favorite to win the Freshman Assessment.

Meanwhile, Ning Tian's team, with their steady performance and undefeated record, was widely recognized as the second-biggest favorite.

The assessment reached a critical round in the round-robin tournament.

Today, the area around the District Eight competition platform was packed with teachers and students who had come to watch.

Ning Tian, Wu Feng, and Xiao Xiao walked onto the platform side by side.

Their opponents today were quite interesting—a team that had also performed brilliantly and attracted attention in previous matches.

Of the three who walked up from the opposite side, the one on the left was a handsome youth with a slender build and short, powder-blue hair: Wang Dong.

In the center was a youth with delicate features and eyes that faintly emitted a pale golden light: Huo Yuhao.

Following on their right was a burly Great Soul Master: Wang Gang.

The trajectory of fate intersected on the platform. Ning Tian's golden-blue eyes met Huo Yuhao's, and the air was instantly thick with the scent of gunpowder.