"I challenge you to a fight!"
The crowd quickly scattered, creating a clear space between the two sides. All eyes turned toward the voice. A teenage boy stepped forward, his black hair cascading like a waterfall. He wore a blue robe, and on his chest plate was a single star.
An uproar followed.
"That's Meng Xuan, the academy wastrel!" someone exclaimed.
"Has the weekly tournament turned into a mockery now?" a girl muttered under her breath, then continued, "I can't imagine why someone with no holy force would want to fight with someone stronger than him",
"I guess he's just mad his babe
was beaten," someone scoffed, "but he should still know his limits."
"You might be wrong," another countered. "He defeated an upper-tier cultivator during the Awakening Ceremony."
A girl with pink hair nodded as she pointed toward another young woman beside her.
"She can testify."
The pink-haired girl leaned closer and whispered, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Aren't you happy he's going to suffer the same fate you did in the past? He really tarnished your mage."
Though it sounded like mockery, it was laced with bitter memory.
She remembered clearly—that moment during the Awakening Ceremony. That day had changed everything.
Since then, people had called it coincidence, claiming she was the one who failed, the one too weak to awaken properly. From that day onward, she'd been mocked.
"If only he could use that same power again," she thought, clenching her fists. "Then they'd see I wasn't weak. They didn't see what I saw that day… he was like a monster, wreaking havoc in the world."
Meng Xuan had gained a strange reputation—the wastrel of the academy with no holy force.
Now, he stepped onto the battle stage.
His real reason for challenging Jiao San wasn't just for Xiao Long.
He wanted to test himself.
Ever since being discharged from the hospital, he had felt a deep well of strength building inside him. But he hadn't had the chance to unleash it. The past few days, he'd been receiving training—from the Voice Demon.
"Guide your fist to the left—"
He stood at the center of the stage, eyes narrowed, lost in thought.
"This isn't a joke. I'll advise you to rethink this," Jiao San said after a tense silence.
Meng Xuan smiled.
"Since I'm already here, I'm willing to fight. Let's save the talk for later—after you've been defeated by me."
Meng Xuan's gaze darkened. His best friend had her ribs broken by this man. His words weren't just for show—they were aimed to hit deep, to cut psychologically.
"Has this guy gone insane?" murmured someone in the crowd.
"I bet if he wins this match, I'll eat my shit!" another shouted.
From the audience's perspective, it was like a skinny man challenging a full-grown gorilla.
Jiao San knew he was being provoked, but he didn't respond the way everyone expected.
"How dare you, measly ant mock me,I'll cripple both your hands and legs today.
With my father, the academy would naturally close the matter. You are, after all, a weakling."
Jiao San thought of a vicious plan. Inwardly, he smirked, but outwardly he maintained a light smile.
"Since the junior has already decided, I will be lenient and allow you to take your first three moves."
"I'm starting to admire Senior San more and more," someone whispered.
"He is kind and benevolent."
"That's the type of man I want."
"He pities that weakling and is going to allow him to make the first move!"
The crowd was dumbfounded by Meng Xuan's next words.
"Just three moves? I can defeat you with one. But I'll follow your wish."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"This guy is really daring… I really want to use my cultivation and kill him at once," Jiao San thought, clenching his teeth. But he said nothing, merely stepping forward.
Outside, someone muttered, "Has this guy gone insane? Someone should call the psycho unit."
---
The battle began.
Two opponents stood ten meters apart, staring each other down like beasts waiting to pounce.
Meng Xuan rushed forward to make his first move.
Judging from his twitching muscle, Jiao San analyzed: He's about to punch my chest or belly.
BAM!
A sudden kick—straight to the groin!
Jiao San's momentum shattered. He hunched over, eyes wide with shock and pain. He hadn't expected that kind of dirty move.
This level of coordination in battle… he must have some experience, Jiao San thought grimly. But this guy...
Meng Xuan didn't wait.
Before his opponent could recover, his middle and index fingers formed a dual spear stance, like a striking cobra.
Thwack!
With precise force, he struck Jiao San's clavicles.
The impact drove Jiao San to his knees. He gasped, his breathing ragged, chest heaving for air.
"This guy is... I didn't even get to rest before he made his second move!"
The predicament I'm in now... could only be blamed on myself. I underestimated my opponent.
While he was still catching his breath and trying to regain his energy, leaking a little bit of his inner force, the fierce Meng Xuan didn't give him a moment to recover properly.
With calm precision, Meng Xuan stepped forward. His opponent was still on one knee, trying to rise, when Meng Xuan struck.
With the back of his palm, he hit the base of Jiao San's skull.
The blow landed with a heavy crack.
That last strike was the final straw.
Jiao San collapsed.
His body slammed to the ground, arms sprawled wide as if desperately reaching for something invisible in the air.
"The great Jiao San… defeated?" someone gasped.
"I went too easy this time around," Meng Xuan said coldly, brushing dust from his sleeve.
And he was right. That second move—originally aimed for the opponent's eyes—had been held back. Though this was a friendly match, only a spar between students, it could have turned deadly. But Meng Xuan had been careful.
He had also purposely avoided the center of the skull—he didn't strike where the brain stem was. That was no accident. Any wrong hit there could result in serious trauma, even death. So, he lowered his strength and aimed for the base of the skull instead. The strike was enough to render Jiao San unconscious for a while, but nothing permanent.
The crowd was in an uproar again, but this time they weren't cheering or mocking. Their mouths hung open in disbelief.
The battle had ended in just a few seconds.
No counterattack.
No drawn-out clash.
Just silence.
"Someone pinch me… I think I'm dreaming."
"Did that weakling just beat the mighty Jiao San… with three moves?"
"Did they swap roles?"
"No, I think they swapped faces."
"Where's that guy who said Meng Xuan was gonna get crushed?"
"I told you! I told you all before—this guy's not normal!"
Meng Xuan stood tall beside his fallen opponent, his expression as cold as ice. He slowly raised his right leg, stopping at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lip
"What are you trying to do, weakling?" a loud voice shouted.
Meng Xuan turned.
"I'm trying to get revenge here, idiot," he responded sharply, his voice echoing through the stunned arena.
The next instant, his leg snapped forward, and the side of Jiao San's stomach was ruthlessly kicked.
Thud!
Kachak!
The unmistakable sound of ribs breaking rang out.
"Aaargh!" Jiao San cried in agony, then fell silent again.
The academy's healers rushed into the arena in panic. They examined him and announced his condition.
"Just two broken ribs. Minor injuries. He'll recover in half a day—he's an upper-tier cultivator, after all."
But the crowd didn't care about the facts.
They felt only one thing: outrage.
Their indignation turned toward Meng Xuan as angry curses rang out.
"He went too far!"
"He hurt our idol!"
Meng Xuan stood there silently. He had long grown used to being cursed, mocked, praised, or ignored. It didn't matter.
Only fools laughed when praised and cried when insulted.
He just stood still, unshaken.
Then, suddenly—
"We challenge you to a fight!"
Five hefty students stood up in unison, their eyes burning with fury. Meng Xuan flinch.
He could handle one but not five,seems I will just have to accept defeat but that will send a blow to the image I just build.
They were likely his trusted friends.
In this academy, it wasn't uncommon for more than two people to challenge a single opponent at once. Such battles were accepted and not against the rules.
The only condition was simple—the person being challenged could admit defeat if they believed they couldn't handle the pressure.
The five students—all upper-tier cultivators—walked up to the stage one by one. Each of them exuded a powerful aura, their confidence evident in every step. The atmosphere grew tense as the crowd leaned in, holding their breath.
"Five against one?" someone in the audience whispered.
"Isn't that overkill?"
"Doesn't matter. He asked for it!"
Meng Xuan stood still at the center of the arena, hands behind his back, his gaze calm and cold.
He didn't speak,but his heart raced.