Under the expectant gazes of the crowd, Han Jue stepped onto the arena platform.
In the Arena Tournament the day before yesterday, only the students from Spirit Martial and the Military Academy had followed what could be considered orthodox fighting styles.
Their ferocious fighting had left a deep impression on the audience.
Especially memorable was their ruthlessness-even on the verge of defeat, they could suddenly turn the tables at any moment.
Even now, Han Jue kept recalling the conversation the Director of Teaching had had with them last night.
"The resources at stake in this Freshman Competition are enormous."
"So enormous that even Spirit Martial cannot ignore them."
"If we win the championship and secure these resources, the academy will be able to nurture more outstanding prodigies."
"Then it will be able to rise even higher."
"So... for the honor and ideals our academy has upheld for over a hundred years, I'm sorry to put this burden on you all."
In Han Jue's memory, the Director of Teaching had always been a big, burly man, usually laughing and joking. He had never been this solemn before.
That scene had stirred his heart.
The Military Academy and Spirit Mind Academy had clearly given similar instructions.
Compared with the somewhat relaxed atmosphere of the day before yesterday, every student now wore a slightly solemn expression.
Clearly, just yesterday, the academies had probably learned exactly what resources were at stake in this competition.
"The championship..."
At the center of the platform, Han Jue murmured, his gaze gradually sharpening.
He looked at the Military Academy student opposite him and immediately charged.
The student gritted his teeth and drew a deep breath. Though far weaker than Han Jue, he had no intention of backing down.
He let Han Jue's fist come at him, thrusting out