Volume One: First Signs of Brilliance Chapter 27: Issuing a Challenge

Compared to the five from Eleventh High who were swaggering about, the four from Twentieth High, after defeating their opponents, merely stood quietly to the side, not uttering a word. Yet the disdain on their faces made it clear their sentiments mirrored those of Eleventh High—they looked down on Tenth High.

It was obvious that whether from Eleventh or Twentieth, these students were no strangers to fighting. Their experience and tactics were far superior—more ruthless and varied—than those from Tenth High. They resembled street thugs more than students.

“They’re right. If you’re not convinced, come at me together. I, Huang Jian, will take you all on,” shouted the orange-haired Huang Jian, his voice so loud it echoed through the entire academic building. “Aren’t there three Body Tempering Stage Seven students from your school? Call them here. I’d like to see just how impressive you really are.”

As he finished, a ferocious aura erupted from him, sweeping over the crowd in an instant—Body Tempering Stage Seven. He had no interest in the Stage Four or Five students before him; in his eyes, they were trash. His real targets were the three Stage Seven students from Tenth High.

Ordinary students felt a tightness in their chests and retreated. The martial students, sensing an aura that could crush them with ease, found their breathing stilled and their faces drained of color.

Those martial students from Tenth High, who had just been helped to their feet, could see it clearly now: Huang Jian and his group had come looking for trouble.

Such a commotion was bound to draw the teachers’ attention. Several older teachers, accompanied by security guards, rushed over, shouting, “Why are students from Eleventh and Twentieth High here? What are you up to?”

“Damn, even the teachers are coming now. This isn’t fun anymore.” Huang Jian cursed under his breath, clearly displeased. Still, he was well aware that not even ten of him could stand up to any one of the teachers, so he had no intention of provoking them. Instead, he seized the moment before the teachers arrived to issue a scornful challenge to the crowd: “This isn’t over. Go tell those Stage Seven students from your school—if they’re real men, meet us after school at a martial arts hall and let’s see who’s stronger.”

“Of course, if you’re all useless, then don’t bother. Just admit all your martial artists are trash, not a match for us from Eleventh and Twentieth High.”

With those words, and amidst the shame and anger of all the Tenth High students, Huang Jian and his eight companions slipped away before the teachers could reach them, their speed so astonishing it left jaws hanging.

But what shocked the Tenth High students even more was how easily the nine leaped over the campus wall—four or five meters high—without the slightest hindrance.

And so, this farce ended abruptly and anticlimactically.

Many onlookers sighed in regret, not expecting their own school’s best to be so easily outmatched. They had hoped to see a clash of Body Tempering Stage Seven martial artists. But with the teachers’ arrival, the intruders simply fled.

“What just happened? That’s it?” Wang Jue was utterly confused. He’d never imagined that students from other schools could infiltrate their campus so easily.

Down below, the teachers were dispersing the crowd and escorting the injured martial students away. Wang Jue lost interest in watching and squeezed through the crowd back to his classroom, returning to his seat.

“Why would students from Eleventh and Twentieth High suddenly join forces just to come stir up trouble at our school? Do they have a grudge against us?”

“Maybe. I’ve heard Huang Jian is like the local tyrant at Eleventh High. Even most teachers don’t dare mess with him—some have even been beaten by him. Rumor has it he has ties to people on the outside.”

“Is that true?”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“He dares to hit teachers? Isn’t there anyone who can put him in his place?”

“So the school leaders at Eleventh High are useless? They can’t even control a student?”

“Who knows, maybe the administration doesn’t want to stir up unnecessary trouble for their school.”

“Anyway, what do you think will happen next?”

“If nothing unexpected happens, the teachers will handle it.”

…

Class Three, Grade Nine—or perhaps the entire Tenth High—was abuzz. Not only the ninth graders, but also eighth and seventh graders were gossiping about the incident.

Those martial students from various grades likely felt the most embarrassed. This was more than just losing face; it was as if someone had climbed onto their heads and humiliated them.

Especially the three Body Tempering Stage Seven students who only heard the news later—they were furious, feeling utterly humiliated.

Even Luo Shui, who arrived at school just in time, was livid when she heard what had happened.

“Jue, what’s going on? I was just a little late today—how did something like this happen?” Luo Shui clenched her little fists in disbelief, as if imagining herself smashing the troublemaker into helplessness with her nearly seven hundred kilograms of force.

“Lucky you weren’t here,” Wang Jue muttered inwardly at her words. He had no doubt that if Luo Shui had been present, her fiery temper would have led her straight into a fight.

In fact, it was obvious. She definitely would have!

“Hmm…” As Wang Jue considered how to explain things simply, Luo Shui suddenly blinked and asked, “That arrogant guy, did he say his name was Huang Jian?”

“Yes, that’s right. Huang Jian. I remember now—he did say his name,” Wang Jue recalled.

Hearing this, Luo Shui seemed to ponder something, murmuring to herself, “Huang Jian? The Huang family? Axe Gang?”

“What, you know them?” Though Luo Shui had spoken softly, Wang Jue’s enhanced hearing as a martial artist picked it up, and he asked in confusion.

Luo Shui shrugged nonchalantly. “Not exactly, I’ve just heard of them. If it really is them, then this isn’t as simple as it looks. Even if Eleventh High is hostile toward us, they wouldn’t let students come looking for trouble on their own.”

“Don’t do anything reckless,” Wang Jue said quickly, a sense of foreboding rising within him. “No matter how complicated this is, you’d better not get involved after school. Body Tempering Stage Seven isn’t something you—at Stage Six—can handle. Just let it go.”

“Don’t worry, I’m strong. Even if I lose, I’ll be fine.” Luo Shui raised her little fist, her expression saying clearly he needn’t worry.

Wang Jue’s lips twitched, but he said nothing more. He’d said all he could; whether Luo Shui would listen was up to her.

…

The incident that morning was indeed the talk of the school. When homeroom teacher Liu Mao entered the classroom, he said nothing except to warn everyone not to get involved in trouble, then started the lesson as usual.

The morning passed as any other—class as usual. But by midday, a rumor began to sweep through the school.

There’s a saying: good news travels slowly, but bad news travels far and wide.

It seemed Huang Jian from Eleventh High intended to escalate things—he had already rented a martial arts hall near the school and spread the word that he would challenge all the martial artists from Tenth High, going so far as to declare, “If you’re a man, come fight me. Beat me and you’ll win two hundred thousand!”

The news sent the whole of Tenth High into an uproar. Many martial students couldn’t help but consider giving it a try. If not for their clear sense of their own limits, some might actually have gone.

Time passed quickly, and afternoon arrived.

In Class Three, Wang Jue had expected their homeroom teacher to say something, but instead, the man acted oblivious, saying nothing about the matter. On the other hand, the much-anticipated subsidy of sixty thousand credits was finally distributed.

For most students, sixty thousand credits was a substantial sum. Still, compared to others who received at least a hundred thousand, Wang Jue felt a twinge of envy—especially seeing Luo Shui happily collect two hundred and ten thousand. Suddenly, his sixty thousand didn’t seem appealing at all.

Three or nearly four times as much—anyone would feel a bit down.

But Wang Jue’s envy faded as quickly as it came. He knew his lack of talent had set him back, wasting over nine years of effort.

If he’d had even a medium-grade talent at the beginning, not low-grade, then after nine years, he believed he’d have reached at least Stage Four, if not Stage Five.

Even now, at Stage Three, Wang Jue was far from satisfied. He knew his real shortage was time—or, more accurately, Star Source Points.

With enough Star Source Points to enhance his talent, his cultivation would soar. He could jump two stages, perhaps even three, and maybe reach Stage Six like Luo Shui.

But, as always, that was the crux—he needed enough Star Source Points!

The rest of the afternoon, Wang Jue’s mind was preoccupied with how to obtain these points, paying no attention to lessons.

After school, the students of Tenth High poured out in droves, most heading toward the martial arts hall whose address Huang Jian had left behind.

Qingfeng Martial Arts Hall.

It wasn’t exactly close to Tenth High, but not far either—about seven or eight kilometers away.