The arena trembled.
Xun Fei clashed swords with a Class C elite, sparks flying with each strike. But unlike before, his movements flowed—precise, deliberate, heavy with killing intent.
The Class C disciple stumbled back. "Impossible… his foundation was shattered!"
Xun Fei sneered. "Then why am I still standing?"
Not far, Ling Yue danced through the battlefield. Her dagger sliced air, but her real weapon was illusion. Her shadow struck from impossible angles. A second opponent dropped unconscious without understanding how.
On the edge, Jian Mo stood, arms trembling, talismans fluttering in a wind only he could feel. "Spirits of fire and fear… listen."
Flames burst outward in a dome, catching three enemies in a burning spiral. His eyes glowed faintly—just for a second.
The elders watching leaned forward. "That… that's not standard spirit invocation."
"Where did these children learn this?"
Among them, Elder Mu watched Han Li quietly. The janitor stood like a bored spectator, but Elder Mu noticed the faint distortions in the air around him. A spiritual suppression technique… older than any known formation.
A Class C captain tried to retreat, sensing defeat. "Withdraw! They're monsters!"
Too late.
Xun Fei's final slash shattered the arena's reinforced tiles. Ling Yue's illusions caught the stragglers, and Jian Mo's fire sealed the edges.
When the dust settled, Class D stood victorious.
The crowd was silent. Then murmurs began.
"Who trained them?"
"Wasn't that the janitor…?"
In the clouds, the Sky-Eater smiled. It recognized the energy—chaotic, unorthodox… delicious.
Han Li turned and walked away, broom slung lazily over one shoulder.
"They're still weak," he muttered. "But now... the sky might notice."