Lucas, Huang, and Katherine stood outside the academy — the one considered the best in all of China. A heavy silence hung between them, the weight of the building's reputation pressing down.
Without hesitation, Lucas stepped forward first, pushing open the massive iron doors. A soft creak echoed through the air as he entered.
Inside, the atmosphere was alive and bustling. Adventurers moved across the grand black-marble floor, some deep in conversation with their friends and colleagues, others rushing about, focused on their own tasks. The faint scent of steel and parchment floated in the air, a reminder of the world they belonged to.
Lucas's sharp eyes scanned the hall the moment he entered. Immediately to his right, he spotted the reception — a sleek black counter glowing softly under the overhead lights. Behind it, a few attendants, dressed sharply in dark uniforms, were busy handling registrations and answering inquiries.
Without wasting a second, Lucas began moving toward it, his footsteps light but determined.
Lucas approached the receptionist with steady steps. Standing straight, he spoke politely, "Ah, hello, ma'am. We're here to apply for admission."
The receptionist, a sharp-looking woman with tied-back hair and a professional demeanor, lifted her gaze toward them. Her voice was firm yet not unfriendly as she said, "Do you have your Lingquan Corporation ID cards? If not, I'm sorry, but you cannot register here."
At her words, Lucas, Huang, and Katherine simultaneously reached into the pockets of their pants, each pulling out a sleek ID card.
The cards resembled passports in design — sturdy, dark, and official-looking. In bold, elegant font, the words 'Lingquan Corporation' were printed across the top. Beneath it were their names, ages, sex, dates of joining, and an official signature — that of the corporation's president. These cards were undeniable proof of their affiliation with Lingquan.
Though Lucas had been living in China for four years now and spoke fluent Chinese, so did Katherine. Naturally, their conversation with the receptionist continued smoothly in Chinese.
After briefly examining their IDs, the receptionist nodded and smiled lightly. "Alright," she said. "You'll need to fill out this form first, and then head over there to submit it." She pointed behind them with a graceful motion of her finger.
Turning to look, they saw another counter set up further inside. Above it, a large board hung, the words 'Admission Place' printed clearly in golden letters.
The receptionist handed each of them a pen, along with a crisp admission form. The forms were entirely in Chinese, filled with sections for personal details. Even though Lucas was fluent, the task required careful reading, and he concentrated as he quickly filled out the necessary information.
Within two or three minutes, the three of them completed their forms and made their way toward the designated Admission Place. Entering through the open space, they found themselves in a surprisingly well-decorated room.
At the center, behind a polished desk, sat a middle-aged man dressed in neat formal clothes. His posture was straight, his expression professional.
Without hesitation, Lucas, Huang, and Katherine approached the desk and submitted their forms. The man first gave them a cursory glance before picking up the papers to examine them properly.
After a few minutes of careful inspection, he finally spoke, "Your forms are all in order. However, you will have to pass an entrance test."
Lucas leaned slightly forward, asking, "What kind of test?"
Katherine immediately chimed in, crossing her arms with a slight frown, "If it's a written exam, I'm not doing it."
The man chuckled lightly. "Don't worry. It's not a written exam. You'll have to engage in a battle against some of our academy's instructors. Based on your performance, your admission will be decided — and it will also determine what level of faculty and resources you'll be granted."
Lucas felt a spark ignite within him.
A battle? Against experienced adventurers? This might actually help me push my limits.
The three exchanged quick glances and agreed without much hesitation. Both Lucas and Huang enjoyed fighting — it was second nature to them. Katherine wasn't as enthusiastic, but given the circumstances, she had no real choice but to go along.
Behind the man, a heavy iron door stood silently. Without warning, it slid open with a smooth mechanical hum.
The man gestured toward it. "Please proceed through this gate."
Without exchanging a word, the three of them stepped through the gate.
As soon as they crossed over, they found themselves standing in the middle of a vast stadium — a battlefield designed solely for combat. The ground stretched wide around them, smooth and sturdy, and the air was heavy with the sharp tang of sweat and metal.
All around, other adventurers were already engaged in friendly duels, exchanging blows, spells, and laughter in the spirit of practice.
Suddenly, a sharp announcement echoed across the grounds through hidden speakers:
"All adventurers currently on the ground, please move to the spectator area. I repeat, all adventurers on the ground, please proceed to the spectator stands."
The ongoing battles ceased immediately. Without delay, the adventurers moved away, ascending the stands that encircled the stadium, leaving the ground below clear and silent.
The spectator area was much like a normal sports arena, filled with rows of seats overlooking the battlefield. The energy was different, however — thicker, heavier — as if the very walls could sense the battles about to unfold.
A staff member soon approached Lucas, Huang, and Katherine, gesturing for them to follow. Without hesitation, they did, walking across the vast field.
Suddenly, from all around, white walls began rising from the ground — smooth, seamless, and gleaming — forming a massive hemispherical dome over the entire battlefield.
On three sides of the stadium floor, there were sleek metallic doors — automatic ones, just like the entrance they had come through. On the fourth side, a narrow pathway led back to their original entry point.
The air tensed.
Then, without warning, one of the metallic doors hissed open.
A figure stepped out, their presence heavy and commanding.
The figure who had stepped out of the metallic door was no ordinary person — he was an instructor from Lingquan Academy.
In Lingquan, instructors were divided into different types: those who taught students and those who tested them during entrance exams and combat trials. The man before them belonged to the latter. He was one of the academy's official combat examiners.
He wore a long, flowing white coat that reached below his knees, swaying slightly as he walked. Beneath it, he sported a tight black T-shirt that clung to his frame, clearly outlining his well-built muscles, paired with white sweatpants that gave him an easy yet athletic look. His brown hair was medium-length, loose and fluffy, styled in wavy layers with heavy curtain bangs falling just above his eyes — a slightly messy, bedhead look that somehow still managed to feel effortlessly charming. His curled side locks softened his features, giving him a strangely innocent vibe despite the strength radiating from his form.
His voice, when he spoke, was deep and heavy, carrying a lazy confidence.
"Yo, brats," he said, a half-smirk playing on his lips. "I'll try my best not to hurt you too much."
The white wall surrounding the battlefield was not opaque but semi-transparent — like a massive shimmering bubble. Everything beyond it could still be seen, though the edges were slightly distorted, as if looking through thick glass.
The man continued with a slight bow of his head.
"Apologies. I know it's bad manners not to introduce myself properly, but... well, old habits die hard. Name's Liang Xun. You brats can just call me Mr. Liang."
Standing nearby was the same guide who had brought them into the stadium. Stepping forward, he began explaining the rules:
"Listen up, kids. You see those three gates around the arena? Mr. Liang came through one of them. Behind the others, more instructors are waiting. For now, one of you will battle Mr. Liang."
He pointed toward the gates before continuing:
"You'll have ten minutes to collect as many points as possible.
A basic hit on Mr. Liang earns you 2 points.
A heavy hit gets you 5 points.
A basic wrath hit gives 3 points.
A heavy wrath hit, 8 points.
Dodging one of Mr. Liang's attacks will also earn you 1 point.
However, if Mr. Liang hits you, you lose points:
A basic hit loses 1 point.
A heavy hit, 4 points.
A basic wrath hit, 2 points.
A heavy wrath hit, 9 points."
The guide paused, then asked, "So, who wants to go first?"
Katherine immediately shook her head.
"Uh, Qi, Lucas... yeah, I'm not going first. You two decide."
Lucas turned to Qi, smiling slightly.
"Qi, mind if I go?"
Qi grinned, nodding. "Go ahead."
The guide clapped his hands once. "Excellent. Mr. Huang and Ms. Vale, please move to the spectator area."
Qi and Katherine obeyed, making their way up the stands. From there, they had a clear view of the arena, with a massive television screen broadcasting Lucas and Mr. Liang's every move in sharp detail.
Another announcement crackled across the stadium:
"Mr. Liang and Mr. Halt, please activate your crimson screens and issue the command: 'Battle Points Start.'"
Both men summoned their crimson screens — semi-transparent, holographic panels hovering before them — and gave the command simultaneously.
"Battle Points Start."
Moments later, another announcement rang out:
"Mr. Liang and Mr. Halt, you should have received a request to link your Battle Points condition. Please accept."
A notification flashed on their crimson screens:
[Do you want to accept the 'Battle Points Link' request?]
Without hesitation, both of them spoke:
"Accept."
The battle conditions locked in, linking their points to every strike, dodge, and blow according to the earlier explained rules.
Finally, the arena shook slightly as the final announcement echoed loud and clear:
"Now, let the battle begin!"
There was no nervousness in Lucas.
He stood there, calm and composed, taking a slow, deep breath.
As he exhaled, he burst forward in a sudden dash toward Xun, using only his natural human speed — no Wrath energy yet.
Xun, meanwhile, remained completely still, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his white coat. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if he already knew everything that was about to happen.
Lucas closed the distance swiftly, stopping just a meter away. Without wasting a second, he leapt into the air, spinning mid-flight to deliver a powerful, heavy kick aimed straight at Xun's head.
But Xun merely tilted his head slightly — an effortless, almost dismissive motion — and Lucas's kick whistled through the empty air, missing its mark completely.
Not even once did Xun pull his hands from his pockets or shift from his spot.
Landing smoothly, Lucas immediately dipped low, sweeping out with a fast kick aimed at Xun's legs, trying to catch him off balance.
Yet, as if it were nothing, Xun hopped lightly into the air, easily avoiding the strike with minimal movement.
Lucas pushed back, gaining a little distance between them. He let out a breath, impressed despite himself, and said,
"Your reflexes are seriously something else."
Xun let out a small, almost mocking chuckle.
"Oh please," he said, his voice carrying that same lazy heaviness, "I don't need compliments from a brat like you."
Without hesitation, Lucas dashed forward once more, launching a flurry of strikes — punches and kicks fired off in rapid succession.
Yet Xun, unbelievably, continued to dodge each and every attack without moving his feet, his hands still buried deep in the pockets of his long white coat.
It looked less like a fight and more like a dance.
Each subtle lean, each casual sway of Xun's body seemed choreographed perfectly to avoid Lucas's blows, as if he was dancing to a rhythm only he could hear.
In a swift pivot, Lucas appeared behind Xun.
He spread the fingers of his left hand into a claw-like shape — and in an instant, crackling violet currents and sparks erupted from them.
With a sharp breath, Lucas raised the charged hand above his head... and then swung it down with all his might.
From his fingertips, five blazing claws of pure electric Wrath shot forward, tearing through the air at terrifying speed.
The claws weren't just fast — they ripped apart everything in their path. The very ground beneath cracked and shattered as they raced toward Xun.
This time, Xun had no choice.
He performed a graceful backflip, the movement still almost lazy, still with his hands in his pockets — but he had to move this time. He couldn't dodge standing still anymore.
The claws struck the ground with a deafening crack, sending clouds of dust and debris exploding into the air, blanketing the battlefield in thick, swirling grey.
As Xun landed lightly, he narrowed his eyes, scanning through the haze.
Then he caught it — two violet, electric sparks shining like twin stars in the smoke, no more than half a meter from him.
And he sensed it — the incoming fist.
A Wrath-charged fist, surging with raw power, aiming right for him.
Without wasting a heartbeat, Xun finally moved his right hand from his pocket.
With fluid precision, he reached out and caught Lucas's fist midair.
The moment he grabbed it, he grimaced slightly — a jolt of violet electricity raced up his arm.
But he didn't falter.
In a single, brutal motion, Xun swung Lucas by the arm and hurled him straight backward, sending him crashing into the white barrier wall with a heavy, echoing thud.
As Lucas hit the wall, his crimson screen lit up with a series of notifications:
[You gained 2 points]
His heart raced for a moment, but before he could even process the small victory, the next notification appeared.
[You lost 4 points]
Lucas' eyes flickered as the weight of the situation hit him. He had taken the risk, and now it was costing him.
The final notification popped up:
[Your current number of points: -2 pts]