The Battle Begins

Three days later, at the back mountain.

The Martial Stage was a slab of bluestone half a man tall, its surface layered with countless marks left by students over the years.

A crooked flagpole stood beside it, its flag long faded.

A little yellow sparrow perched atop the pole, watching curiously.

An Chen was followed by Shitou and Qian Yiming.

Shitou had not said a word along the way, his lips pale. Qian Yiming was as silent as ever, though his gaze was colder than usual.

Wu Lei had already arrived on the other side of the Martial Stage.

Today, he wore a dark fitted outfit, his cuffs bound tight with leather straps. A short sword hung at his waist, and his hair was still slicked to a shine.

A tall and a short lackey stood behind him.

Out of habit, An Chen activated Spirit Vision and swept his eyes over them.

The short lackey's aura was light and drifting, layered with orange-red. It was obvious that he did not take his opponent seriously.

The tall lackey's aura was completely different. It gleamed a bright red, while his emotional layer was dark blue-gray, betraying no obvious fluctuations.

A power type, and mentally steady too, An Chen thought.

Wu Lei's aura was the same as it had been in the Cafeteria three days ago. His limbs glowed bright red, while beneath the restless red of his emotional layer lay a trace of darkness.

Only, that darkness was fainter today, replaced by a layer of eager orange-red.

He really wanted this fight.

"You came pretty early." Wu Lei folded his arms. "I thought you wouldn't dare show up."

"I won't go back on something I promised."

"Fine." Wu Lei jumped down from the stage and stepped up to An Chen, lowering his voice. "Since it's a fair duel, there should be some stakes. If we win, you either pay twenty Gold Soul Coins, or the three of you kneel on this stage, kowtow to me three times, and say, 'Young Master Wu, I was wrong.'"

Shitou's face went pale.

An Chen stared at him for two seconds. "What if we win?"

Wu Lei raised a brow as if he had heard a joke. "You tell me."

"Apologize," An Chen said. "Apologize publicly and admit that you framed us over the boots. From now on, whenever you see the three of us, take a detour."

The smile on Wu Lei's face faded for an instant.

Those three words, take a detour, weighed more heavily than any wager. At Iron Rock Academy, for a young master of the Wu Family to take a detour around Working Students—if word got out, where would the Wu Family's pride go?

"What, scared?" Shitou suddenly spoke. His voice trembled, but he forced the words out.

Wu Lei glanced at him, then at An Chen, and suddenly smiled. "Fine."

He held out his hand. "It's a deal."

An Chen raised his hand and slapped it against his.

Smack.

At some point, another person had appeared beside the Martial Stage.

Zhao Qinian had moved a chair beneath the flagpole and sat there holding a cup of hot tea. "Don't mind me. A fair duel needs a teacher present, in case you get carried away and forget your limits. Listen to the rules: winner stays on, and surrendering or being knocked off the stage counts as a loss. No killing blows. Begin."

The first match: Shitou against the short lackey.

Shitou leaped onto the stage and extended his right hand. As Soul Power poured in, a Wooden Stick as tall as his eyebrows appeared from thin air, settling firmly into his grip.

The short lackey also revealed his Wuhun. An iron spear condensed in his palm. "A Wooden Stick? Are you serious?"

Shitou ignored him. With a kick of his right foot, he charged forward, swinging his Wooden Stick upward at the other man's chin.

That strike was fast. Three months ago, he would have been out of breath after running a few steps. After training with An Chen for three months, he could now run a full lap around the back mountain carrying weights.

The short lackey's eyes narrowed, and he raised his iron spear horizontally to block.

Clang!

The Wooden Stick slammed into the spear shaft, numbing his palm and forcing him half a step back. "You've got some skill." His First Soul Ring flashed beneath his feet. "Watch carefully—First Soul Skill, Triple Stab!"

The spear shadows split into three, stabbing toward Shitou's chest, lower abdomen, and thigh.

Shitou's pupils shrank. Yellow Light also flared beneath his feet. "Iron Stick!" The front end of the Wooden Stick took on a metallic iron-gray sheen. He raised it across his body to block the strike at his chest, then twisted aside to evade the thrust at his thigh.

But he could not block the strike aimed at his lower abdomen.

Bang!

Shitou let out a muffled groan and flew backward, crashing onto the stage and sliding to its edge. His Wooden Stick immediately dissipated.

"The first match goes to Wu Lei's side." Zhao Qinian's voice was as calm as still water.

An Chen jumped onto the stage and helped Shitou up.

"Brother Pot... I..."

"It's fine." An Chen patted his shoulder. "Leave the rest to us."

The second match: Qian Yiming against the short lackey.

Qian Yiming walked onto the stage and extended his right hand. A Kitchen Knife condensed in his palm, its blade gleaming like snow.

He gripped the knife tightly without saying a word.

The short lackey had just won a match and was brimming with confidence. "Another Working Student? Don't you have anyone else—"

Qian Yiming moved. Yellow Light flared beneath his feet. "Sudden Thrust." A cyan glow spread over the Kitchen Knife as it flew from his hand, so fast that it became no more than an afterimage.

The short lackey was startled and hurriedly raised his iron spear to block.

With a clang, the Kitchen Knife struck the spear shaft and sent sparks flying.

Before he could recover, Qian Yiming had already closed in. His right hand caught the rebounding knife while his left seized the middle of the spear shaft and pressed it downward.

The short lackey's body tilted.

The Kitchen Knife was already at his throat.

The entire area fell silent. Even Zhao Qinian raised his brows.

From throwing the blade to placing it at his opponent's throat, only three breaths had passed.

"I... I surrender." The short lackey's Adam's apple bobbed.

Qian Yiming withdrew his knife and took two steps back without saying a word.

"The second match goes to An Chen's side."

The third match: Qian Yiming against the tall lackey.

The tall lackey stepped onto the stage, and the platform seemed to tremble beneath him.

He stood half a head taller than Qian Yiming, with shoulders nearly twice as broad.

"Savage Bull."

He gave a low shout. His First Soul Ring lit beneath his feet, and yellow light flowed across his body.

Beast Wuhun possession.

His body grew another inch taller. The muscles on his arms bulged in thick knots, while his skin became rough and sturdy, glowing an earthy yellow as though covered in hide.

A pair of curved black horns slowly emerged from either side of his forehead.

He lowered his head, his breath heavy through his nostrils like that of an enraged beast.

Qian Yiming did not hesitate. As usual, he struck first.

His First Soul Ring lit up again, cyan light appearing over the Kitchen Knife as it spun toward the tall lackey's chest.

The tall lackey neither dodged nor retreated. He raised his right arm and blocked it head-on.

Clang!

The Kitchen Knife struck his hide-like skin, leaving behind only a shallow white mark.

Qian Yiming's eyes narrowed as he reached to catch the rebounding knife.

The tall lackey gave him no chance. "First Soul Skill, Savage Bull Charge!" He stomped down with both feet, cracking the bluestone beneath him. He transformed into an unrestrained wild bull and charged forward, his horns pointed ahead. He was not especially fast, but the pressure he brought down on Qian Yiming was as immense as a mountain.

Qian Yiming had no time to dodge. He could only hold the Kitchen Knife horizontally before him and block head-on.

Bang!

Qian Yiming and his knife were sent flying. His back slammed into the flagpole, making it shake violently as the old flag rustled loudly.

He slid down the pole and dropped to one knee, a trace of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

He tried twice but could not stand.

"The third match goes to Wu Lei's side." Zhao Qinian set down his teacup. "Go rest. Don't force yourself."

Qian Yiming wiped the blood from his mouth and slowly walked off the stage. He sat beside Shitou with his head lowered.

Shitou anxiously rubbed his hands together. "Brother Pot, what do we do? That big guy is so fierce..."

An Chen did not answer. His gaze settled on the tall lackey on the stage, whose bull horns had yet to disappear, before shifting to the opposite side of the Martial Stage.

Wu Lei stood below the stage with his arms folded, a faint smile at his lips.

In this winner-stays-on battle, their side had already lost two people.

The other side still had two remaining: the Savage Bull lackey and Wu Lei himself.

And An Chen was the last one left.

"The third match is over. Rest for a quarter of an hour." Holding his teacup, Zhao Qinian spoke unhurriedly. "Who's going up for the fourth match?"

An Chen rose to his feet, took off his outer robe, and tossed it to Shitou.

"I'll go."