Chapter Fourteen: Toru Waga, a Man of Few Words

The grand training grounds. A ring had risen from the earth. It was already seething with noise, a sea of people. From fifth-year seniors to the fresh-faced first-year students, countless spectators had gathered.

Credits! They were far too important, and yet, far too difficult to acquire. There were nine ways to earn them: first, contributing to the Martial Academy; second, completing academy missions; third, creating new techniques and depositing them in the school armory; fourth, personally hunting down fugitives with government bounties; fifth, personally hunting down targets with bounties from the Great Guardian Hall; sixth, personally slaying the vicious thugs of the Egoist Sect; seventh, personally collecting and submitting rare natural treasures of various grades; eighth, personally hunting and submitting spirit beast cores (starting from level five); and ninth, ranking in the top hundred in the seasonal grade competitions (though there were no rewards after ten consecutive top-ten finishes), or improving one's ranking during assessments.

It was essentially the academy telling the students: "Give it your all!" Every single method of obtaining credits required risking one's life. Yet, spending them was incredibly easy—food, clothing, and cultivation all required them. Even committing a mistake or damaging academy facilities would result in a deduction of credits. Thus, credits at the White Cloud Martial Academy had always been a source of heartache for generations of students. It wasn't just difficult; it was truly, agonizingly hard.

Now that there was an opportunity for such unearned gains, how could they not take a gamble? Especially those who had lost in previous years—they were all rubbing their hands in anticipation. Amidst the shock and surprise of the freshmen and the cynical indifference of the seniors, a dozen instructors brought out tables and quickly set up a betting station.

They even provided brief profiles of the top one hundred freshmen, complete with illustrations, to help students decide who to bet on. The information was sparse: Fang Che, Huo Churan, Ding Jieran... Age, origin, entrance ranking, and current points. But there were no details on cultivation level, weapons, or martial techniques. In other words, it was entirely a game of luck.

Countless self-proclaimed analysts had already begun their work. Most people kept their eyes on the top ten or the top three. However, some were looking at the top twenty—what if there was an upset? Betting on the top three paid out three to one, but betting on anyone outside the top ten paid out ten to one. That was a huge difference. If one managed to bet on a dark horse, they wouldn't have to worry about credits for their entire time at the academy. A sudden windfall!

With the academy itself acting as the bookmaker and hosting the gamble, Fang Che found it quite an eye-opener. Seeing his own name at number one, circled in red as the clear favorite, he realized that not many people were actually betting on him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and frustration. It seemed his reputation for "cunning and cheating" had already spread.

As he was looking, he felt someone beside him. Turning his head, he saw the Vice Dean, Huang Yifan.

"Greetings, Vice Dean."

Huang Yifan patted his shoulder with a meaningful look and said, "Take it easy." Then, he disappeared into the crowd.

*???* Fang Che was puzzled. *Take it easy? What does that mean?* Recalling Huang Yifan's meaningful expression, Fang Che suddenly understood a little. These academy leaders... they were quite devious. Being an old hand, Fang Che instantly grasped the leaders' hidden agenda. But what he found even more significant was... why was a big shot like Huang Yifan constantly hovering around him?

Fang Che realized in an instant: Vice Dean Huang Yifan must know something. He had been suspicious on the first day, and by now he was seventy percent sure. With Huang Yifan's appearance today, he was one hundred percent certain.

Below the ring, as Fang Che arrived, eyes converged upon him. The gazes were complex. With the strike of a gong, the grand competition officially began.

***

Drawing lots. All odd-numbered participants drew their opponents simultaneously. Fang Che looked at his opponent: number 75. The rules were then announced. There were no loser's brackets. It was all down to luck. For example, if you had the strength to take second place, but you encountered the championship favorite in the first round, you would be eliminated immediately. No chance to compete for rank. A "one-round trip!" It was simple, sloppy, crude, and perfunctory.

As the top-ranked student, Fang Che was naturally in the first round.

"First match, Fang Che versus Lin Ziqing. Ring master Fang Che, please take the stage!"

Fang Che's ranking was high, so he was the ring master. The referee's booming voice spread across the training grounds.

"Understood."

Fang Che didn't waste words. With a flicker of a black shadow, he moved with the grace of shimmering starlight, as if a patch of the night sky had suddenly descended. He landed on the ring with ethereal elegance. The morning sun rose, casting ten thousand rays of light. The youth stood tall, like jade. The brilliant light seemed to drape over him; or perhaps, he had stepped out from the radiance itself. His brows were like swords, his gaze like a blade, his face sharply defined—fierce, cold, and transcendent. He was like an orchid atop a jade tree, like an immortal descending from the moon.

Every student was craning their necks. At the moment Fang Che stepped onto the stage, he truly held everyone's attention. As his black robes billowed, the entire arena fell silent. Even the instructors serving as referees couldn't help but silently praise: *What grace! What spirit!* Countless young women in the crowd felt as if their hearts had been struck by a heavy blow the moment they saw him. It felt as if he had leapt from their eyes straight into their hearts. Their pulses raced. The moon in the sky was the moon in their eyes; the person before them was the person in their dreams. All their fantasies suddenly felt real.

Fang Che scanned the crowd on the ring, looking for familiar faces. He hadn't expected Kang Zijian to make the top one hundred, but he didn't see him. Instead, he saw Wei Zihao. He couldn't help but pause. Wei Zihao looked much more spirited now, perhaps a bit thinner, but Fang Che vaguely felt that he looked darker, too—there was a grim, dark aura on his face. Fang Che remembered Wei Zihao well; after all, he was a target he intended to bully long-term in the academy. He noticed the difference at a glance, but there was no time to ponder, as it was time for self-introductions.

"Respected teachers, seniors, fellow students." Fang Che was poised, bowing with his fists cupped, his stance upright. "My name is Fang Che; 'Fang' for upright, 'Che' for thorough. My family gave me this name hoping I would become an upright gentleman, thorough to the end." He smiled with a touch of embarrassment. "It's a pity that I'm not that much of a gentleman. When we interact in the future, I hope you won't be fooled by my name."

A ripple of good-natured laughter broke out below, mostly from the girls. One voice even shouted, "I'm willing to be fooled by you!"

"Hahaha..." The laughter grew louder.

On stage, Fang Che smiled shyly. "I have many flaws; I'm short-tempered, and my personality is a bit skewed—I can only take advantage and never suffer a loss..." After listing a string of his own shortcomings, he said earnestly, "I'm also usually taciturn, sparing with my words, and a bit of a loner. I hope you all... won't hold it against me in the future."

*Taciturn? Sparing with words? A loner?!* The crowd erupted in laughter. They all thought he was handsome, graceful, and charming. And he was even humorous. It was truly rare. But in the following five years, as they got to know Fang Che, they would realize, one by one, that everything this guy had said today was actually true! That feeling was indescribable.

***

On the other side, Lin Ziqing had also leaped onto the stage. Dressed in green, he was also a tall, handsome youth. But standing next to Fang Che, as he prepared to introduce himself, he felt incredibly uncomfortable... It was as if a brick had been placed next to a brilliant pearl. The contrast was too sharp. He quietly moved three yards away from Fang Che, but still felt it was too close, and took two more steps. He realized he had reached the edge of the ring.

"Respected teachers, everyone..." Before he could finish, a roar of laughter erupted from below. Some were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. It was mainly due to Lin Ziqing's reaction; it was too obvious. Everyone understood why. Stung by the laughter, Lin Ziqing stood there, bewildered and blushing, unable to speak. Suddenly, a wave of anger surged in him. He turned sharply to look at Fang Che, his eyes blazing with fury. He gritted his teeth. *It's all because of you!*

Fang Che was taken aback. *Wow, you transfer your anger pretty quickly...*

Lin Ziqing, face full of rage, opened his mouth to speak. Fang Che simply stepped aside and gestured. "Please, classmate Lin!"

Lin Ziqing choked on his words. His eyes widened in fury. He drew his sword and roared, "Fang Che! You are despicable and shameless, winning first place through cheating! Today, I, Lin Ziqing, will make you show your true colors!"

Fang Che wore a look of helplessness and said earnestly, "Don't be so loud, classmate Lin. Being loud doesn't make you right. And don't be so hot-headed. Even without me, you would only be seventy-fifth. Your anger is uncalled for; it's as if you would have won the championship if I weren't here."

This sentence was like a sharp needle piercing Lin Ziqing's heart. In an instant, his internal organs felt like they were burning.

*Swish!*

Driven by the insult, Lin Ziqing felt the world go dark and slashed his sword at him. Fang Che dodged and said seriously, "If you are unhappy, classmate Lin, I apologize. Sorry, I got first place and stood in your way. If I weren't here, you would be seventy-fourth. I am truly sorry."

"I'm going to kill you!" Lin Ziqing bellowed, veins bulging on his forehead, putting all his strength into the attack.

"Sigh... Classmate Lin, you're too impulsive. We are fellow students and should be loving; you shouldn't talk about killing. You should go down and rest. You're young, it's not worth ruining your health."

He pivoted, and somehow appeared behind Lin Ziqing, giving him a gentle push. Lin Ziqing was already at the edge of the ring; pushed, he couldn't steady himself and flew off the stage, his sword still pointed forward. He couldn't change direction and lunged toward a fifth-year senior below. That senior seemed to be the leader of a group, surrounded by many followers, standing out like a crane in a flock of chickens. Seeing Lin Ziqing flying toward him, the senior frowned but didn't move.

*Slap.*

Someone beside the senior, eager to show off, jumped out and swatted Lin Ziqing aside with a palm strike. Wiping his hands, he shouted angrily, "How dare you try to assassinate my boss!"

Lin Ziqing had already fainted. Another commotion broke out below.

On stage, the announcement came: "Number one wins!"

Fang Che bowed meticulously, expressed his thanks in all directions, and left the stage with poise. He disappeared instantly. His match was over, and he waited for the next round of fifty.

The arena was somewhat quiet. Because this match had too much to chew on. Lin Ziqing was indeed a bit weak, but Fang Che didn't seem to be that much stronger. Many felt the difference in raw martial strength wasn't that great, and the biggest injury wasn't Fang Che's palm strike. The power of Fang Che's words was ten times greater than the physical damage! Whether they were freshmen or seniors, men or women, everyone was thinking the same thing: *As for this guy's strength, he hasn't shown much yet. But to be honest, that mouth of his is truly poisonous.*