After what Guan Fang said, everyone in the class was a bit startled. The air grew heavier, as if the weight of his words pressed down on every chest. The faint hum of whispers vanished, replaced by silence so deep that even the ticking of the clock on the wall sounded loud. Every student froze, their curiosity and fear mixing like storm clouds. Then, Guan Fang clasped his hands behind his back and continued, his calm but powerful voice filling the room like rolling thunder. "Alright everyone," he said slowly. "When you reach Rank 20 and become Soul Lords, you will officially take part in the Holy Battles against other students of our academy."
The words struck the class like a lightning bolt. Some students gasped. Others blinked, uncertain whether they had heard correctly. Even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish as the meaning sank in. Zhen, Na'er, Wei, Feng, Xue'er, Xiatao, and the rest of Class 2 stared at one another in disbelief. Their faces reflected the same emotion—shock, confusion, and a growing spark of fear. The room buzzed softly with murmurs until Wang Xuan, gathering his courage, raised his hand and asked, "Head Teacher, what do you mean by 'other students of our academy'? Who exactly are we fighting against?"
Guan Fang turned toward him with a faint smile that did nothing to ease the tension. His voice deepened, calm but absolute. "You will fight against Class 1," he said. Then he paused before adding, "And even the Third Years."
That single sentence set off a storm. The room erupted with gasps, chatter, and disbelief. A few students exchanged horrified glances, while others clenched their fists, their excitement rising despite their nerves. The idea of facing the best students—the elite—made hearts pound faster. Some imagined victory and glory; others imagined humiliation and defeat. For many, it was both thrilling and terrifying all at once.
Zhen slowly lifted his hand, his calm expression hiding a flicker of unease. Standing up, he asked in a clear voice that cut through the noise, "Head Teacher, why do we need to fight our own classmates? What's the reason behind this?"
The chatter stopped instantly. Every student turned toward Zhen. He had voiced the question that was burning in everyone's heart. Guan Fang's smile faded, his expression turning solemn. His gaze swept over the class before he spoke. "Because through these Holy Battles," he said slowly, "you will earn points. Each victory will prove your strength. Each defeat will reveal your weakness. Every student in Year 2 and Year 3 will fight to rise in rank. If you win a battle, you gain five points. But if you manage to defeat a senior, you gain ten points."
The silence broke again, this time with a wave of awe and excitement. Students began whispering fiercely to one another, imagining their future victories. Some eyes gleamed with ambition; others with fear. Zhen, Na'er, Wei, Feng, Xue'er, and Xiatao shared quick glances. They could already feel their blood stirring. The thought of climbing higher in the academy, of proving themselves to everyone who looked down on Class 2, made their hearts burn with resolve.
But just as the energy began to rise, Guan Fang raised his hand. The movement alone was enough to silence the room. His sharp eyes scanned the students, and his tone dropped several degrees colder. "Don't get carried away," he said firmly. "Because if you lose a battle…" He let the silence linger, stretching the moment until every student held their breath. "…you will lose five points."
The energy in the room collapsed. Every face turned pale. Murmurs died out. It felt like the temperature had dropped suddenly. Guan Fang's eyes hardened like steel as he continued, his voice echoing with finality. "And remember this well," he said. "Every month, those with the lowest points will be expelled from the academy."
The word expelled hit like a physical blow. The entire room froze. No one even dared to move. The only sound was the faint rustling of sleeves and the pounding of hearts. Zhen, Na'er, Wei, Feng, Xue'er, and Xiatao looked at each other, their faces filled with disbelief. Expelled—for losing? For failing to win? The idea was brutal. It meant one mistake could end everything.
Fan Lin suddenly stood up, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. "What?! Expelled?! Are you serious, Head Teacher?"
Guan Fang nodded gravely, his expression firm. "Yes. That is the rule of the Holy Battles. Last year, every single student of Class 2, Year 2 was expelled under this very system." His eyes swept across the silent class. His voice was cold but steady as he continued, "That is how Class 2 came to be called the 'Trash Class' of the academy."
The words hit harder than any blow. For a moment, no one even breathed. Then, Lei Wei suddenly stood, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "So it's true?!" he shouted. "They were kicked out because they lost too many battles and had no points left?!"
Guan Fang sighed deeply, his shoulders heavy. "Yes. They lost every single match," he said. "Many couldn't handle the pressure. Their confidence shattered. Some gave up before the fights even began. The Holy Battles are not games—they are cruel and merciless. Only those who keep fighting can survive in this academy."
A deep silence followed, heavier than before. Some students lowered their heads in fear. Others clenched their fists, refusing to be labeled as trash. The fear of expulsion mixed with the desire to prove themselves, creating a tension that filled the air like fire.
Moments later, the sharp ring of the bell echoed through the classroom, breaking the heavy stillness. Guan Fang straightened his robe and said in a steady, commanding tone, "That's all for today. Remember what I said—once you reach Rank 20, the Holy Battles will begin. Train harder than ever before. The academy will not show mercy to anyone who falls behind."
He turned toward the door and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall. The students remained frozen for several seconds, unsure of what to say or do. Even after he was gone, his words continued to echo in their minds like distant thunder.
Zhen slowly turned to look at his classmates—Na'er's sharp, determined eyes, Wei's clenched jaw, Feng's narrowed gaze, Xue'er's calm yet firm expression, and Xiatao's quiet, burning resolve. They didn't speak, but they all understood the same thing. The real test for Class 2 hadn't begun yet—but it was coming, and none of them could afford to lose.