Chapter 214

Chapter 214

Chapter 214

“You call that not going all out?” The Green-Haired Boy lay on the ground, looking ready to play dirty.

Before he could spit out another complaint, I leaned down, my hand clamping around his neck with a slight squeeze, smirking, “This is going all out.”

“No, no, no! I’m sorry, I was wrong!” The Green-Haired Boy croaked, shrieking despite my light grip. He clearly felt his life was in danger—after all, the [Arena] didn’t guarantee contestants’ safety!

I released him: “Still not surrendering?”

“I’ve got one last question. After I ask, I’ll surrender.” The Green-Haired Boy was partly stalling to save face, partly genuinely curious.

I nodded, graciously granting his wish: “Speak.”

Eyes full of hope, the Green-Haired Boy asked, “Did you use your ability?”

Even now, he couldn’t believe my physical combat was that strong, clinging to the hope that I’d used my ability to crush him in the fighting skills he prided himself on. Then he saw a playful smile creep onto my face: “Nope. If you’re weak, just practice—”

As his surrender echoed, a mechanical voice rang out: “Match concluded. Red side wins.”

The arena around us mechanically disassembled, the surroundings fading rapidly. The faint rule-bound constraints on our bodies vanished, and we reappeared on the real arena.

Surprised we’d emerged so quickly, the referee blinked before asking about the match result from above. With the Green-Haired Boy’s ability, outsiders couldn’t see the fight, so they had no way of knowing the outcome.

He couldn’t lie and claim victory—otherwise, if I beat him again on the spot, it’d be even more humiliating.

This ability was actually perfect for rigging matches. Take a bribe, compete against another Academy, stall a bit in the [Arena], and surrender. But the Ability Government didn’t care. If an Academy produced a match-fixer, they didn’t deserve to compete internationally.

The Green-Haired Boy glumly admitted, “He won.”

The audience erupted in uproar. It wasn’t that they doubted he could lose, but that he’d lost so fast. With his ability, how had I won so quickly?

The referee wasn’t too surprised. The Green-Haired Boy had fought multiple matches, and Endless Ability Academy wouldn’t send someone completely incapable of countering him. Ending the match so fast clearly meant the kid got crushed.

Thinking this, he announced the result while curiously sizing me up. He’d read my profile: [Destiny Gear] Ability user, a rare Destiny Track.

To win so decisively without using his ability—could he be a pure mage? Now it seemed he might be a warrior instead.

After announcing the result, the referee routinely asked, “Will you continue competing?”

“No.”

“Alright, continue… Wait, not continuing?” The referee looked shocked but quickly understood. “Fine, please submit the next contestant’s name promptly.”

I strolled off the arena, carefree. Mo Xiaotian was waiting below, cheering the moment I stepped down: “Su Bei, you’re amazing! You won in under seven minutes! How was his physical combat? Pretty strong, right?”

Logically, a seven-minute match meant the opponent’s skills were poor. But Mo Xiaotian wasn’t being sarcastic. My physical combat was rarely matched, so lasting seven minutes was already impressive.

“Decent,” I gave what I thought was a fair assessment.

Compared to the Alpha Ability Academy students who fell like dominoes in their gauntlet against me, the Green-Haired Boy’s six-plus minutes was a solid performance.

“Hey! Can’t you say ‘good’?” The Green-Haired Boy, still nearby (or maybe secretly eavesdropping), overheard my comment and couldn’t help shouting.

His teammate groaned, “You got beaten in under seven minutes, and he calls you ‘decent.’ That’s already giving you face, isn’t it?”

He was shocked, as was everyone in their Academy. They knew the Green-Haired Boy’s strength. His ability required excellent physical combat, so he trained harder than anyone in their class. He wasn’t the strongest, but he was top-tier.

Yet he hadn’t lasted seven minutes against me. Just how strong was my physical combat? Wasn’t I a standard mage-type Ability user? Why was my fighting so good? It baffled him.

“You wouldn’t get it. If you fought him, you wouldn’t last five minutes,” the Green-Haired Boy insisted, desperate to salvage his reputation.

Then he turned to me, puzzled: “But why’d you step down?”

Suddenly, his face lit up with disbelief: “No way—you can only beat someone like me with no other abilities, right?”

“No, no, impossible.” He quickly shook his head, muttering to himself, “You’re a main roster pick from ‘Endless Ability Academy.’ No way you’re that weak. You’re hiding your true strength, aren’t you?”

Seeing his smug look, even I was at a loss for words. I glanced at his teammate: “Can this self-talking habit of his be fixed?”

“Not a chance,” the teammate said, embarrassed, wincing as he forcefully dragged the still-ranting Green-Haired Boy away.

“That guy’s kinda fun,” Jiang Tianming said, walking over and fist-bumping me. “Congrats on the win.”

I didn’t care much about the victory—the opponent was too weak to spark any excitement.

“By the way, what restriction did you choose in there?” he asked curiously.

“Restriction,” I answered.

“I bet you banned both sides’ vision, right?” Mo Xiaotian chimed in eagerly.

Wu Mingbai joined, guessing, “Definitely limbs. If he banned vision, Su Bei couldn’t see either.”

“I’m guessing he banned nothing?” Jiang Tianming had a different hunch.

Hearing no one got it right, I said flatly, “Banned escaping.”

“…”

Silence fell. After a long pause, Lan Subing sighed, “That’s so you.”

So brazen!

I shrugged: “Who’s up next?”

“Me.” Qi Huang flashed a satisfied smile. Though she wasn’t first in the second round, just competing made her happy. If she could pull off a one-versus-four like Lan Subing, even better.

I wasn’t as confident in her. I had a hunch she wouldn’t last long. In a real world, I wouldn’t think this way.

But this was a manga world. Unless the author wanted to show Endless Ability Academy crushing others, we couldn’t all get one-versus-four wins.

Endless Ability Academy had won too much. It was time for a real loss.

In the second match, the enemy sent a body-enhancement Ability user. Endless Ability Academy’s lineup was perfect—the opponent couldn’t fly, so Qi Huang easily knocked him off the arena.

For the third contestant, Qi Huang stayed, but the opponent switched. Another body-enhancement Ability user, but instead of raw strengthening like Mu Tieren or the previous one, this was body-transformation enhancement.

It was somewhat like an Endless Ability Academy Ability user who could morph their body into various shapes, except theirs was rubber, while this contestant’s was like clay.

Learning of his ability, Qi Huang couldn’t help asking, “Doesn’t this ability sound more like something from ‘Skydome Ability Academy’ or ours?”

After all, Houde Ability Academy prioritized physical combat. Such ability-focused users usually didn’t join their school.

Meng Huai snorted, “Ever heard of judo?”

Qi Huang took the stage, not underestimating her opponent. Following Meng Huai’s advice, she rode her phoenix into the air and unleashed fireballs at her opponent.

But unexpectedly, while dodging her fireballs, the boy’s arms stretched impossibly long, reaching Qi Huang in midair.

Qi Huang hadn’t anticipated that a ground-bound opponent could touch her. In her panic, she didn’t ascend quickly enough to escape, landing her in a passive position.

The arena scene was downright eerie—a boy on the ground, like some movie alien, swinging two elongated arms to harass the beautiful girl flying above.

Fortunately, Qi Huang wasn’t helpless. Unless her opponent was immune to fire and water, her flames would force him to endure pain. His body-enhancement didn’t counter phoenix flames. He was the one at a disadvantage.

But as flames spread to his arms, he realized continuing would only worsen his position. With a powerful leap, he used his arms to propel himself onto the phoenix, leveling with Qi Huang.

Meng Huai had warned Qi Huang not to let her opponent get close. Now, he had.

Unsurprisingly, Qi Huang lost the third match. The moment her opponent got close, her defeat was sealed. His judo was no joke, binding her until she had no fight left.

Though she managed to engulf him in flames at the brink of suffocation, even smelling charred meat, her opponent had some damage resistance. He wouldn’t burn out quickly, but Qi Huang would suffocate. So, she lost.

Stepping off the arena, Qi Huang looked devastated. She knew her loss was due to carelessness. Had she not let her guard down, assuming her flightless opponent posed no threat, she wouldn’t have been caught.

“Sorry, everyone. I let you down.” Her eyes reddened, but she stubbornly held back tears. Purple marks ringed her neck from her opponent’s grip. “I’m not skilled enough. Teacher, punish me.”

“You should be punished. Drink Dr. Wang’s special potion,” Meng Huai said coldly.

Lei Ze’en glanced at him, chuckling, “I’ll fetch Dr. Wang. He’s probably got the potion ready.”

“Teacher…” Qi Huang’s eyes grew redder, not from sadness but from gratitude. She thought Meng Huai was going easy on her. Drinking a potion wasn’t punishment—it was clearly just treatment for her injuries.

Her mistake had caused the loss, yet the strict teacher was unusually lenient, comforting her this way. She felt both touched and guilty.

Others came to console her. The opponent’s tactics were unexpected—once he latched on, he was like sticky candy, impossible to shake. Even they might not have countered him easily on the first try.

Soon, Lei Ze’en returned with Dr. Wang, who held a paper cup filled with opaque, deep pink liquid. It looked rather pretty.

“This is a special healing drink I made with my ability. It clears external scars and minor internal injuries, perfect for your condition,” Dr. Wang said, exuding mature calm as he introduced it.

Hearing this, Qi Huang grew more convinced of her earlier assumption. Teacher Meng wasn’t punishing her—the potion was tailored for her.

Filled with gratitude, she downed the faintly sweet-smelling drink in one gulp.

The next second, her expression shattered.

It felt like she’d swallowed every sweet thing she’d ever eat in her life. Her body turned to sugar, her blood thickened into syrup, and her throat was so cloyingly unbearable she couldn’t speak.

Sweets should be delicious, but this felt like torture. She’d rather eat insanely spicy peppers than take another sip. She felt she might avoid sweets for a year— just thinking of “sweet” made her want to gag.

When she’d swallowed it all, Qi Huang couldn’t take it anymore. With a “thud,” she collapsed. In her final moment, she weakly reached out. Lan Subing grabbed her hand, tears in her eyes: “Any last wishes? Tell me, I’ll fulfill them!”

In a hoarse, dry voice, Qi Huang’s lips moved several times before she forced out a single word: “Water—”

Then she passed out completely.

Even unconscious, her face held a grimace of agony. The others shivered, looking at Dr. Wang with awe.

Dr. Wang maintained his gentle demeanor, a trace of innocent confusion on his face: “Was it that bad? It’s sweet, you know.”

To make a sweet drink that bad—their expressions grew even more reverent.

Meng Huai sneered, “See that? This is what happens when you mess up! Next time any of you slip up, you'll receive the same treatment.”

“Huh? My treatment’s a punishment now?” Dr. Wang seemed out of it.

Lei Ze’en, clearly chummy with him, slung an arm over his shoulder: “We’ve unlocked a new skill for you. Thank Little Meng already!”

Dr. Wang instinctively followed, “Thanks, Little… Teacher Meng.”

Before they could banter further, with time running short, Jiang Tianming hurriedly asked, “Teacher, who’s next?”

“Li Shu, you’re up,” Meng Huai said, eyeing Li Shu, who was gleefully watching Qi Huang’s plight. “Two more matches. Win them both, and you’re off tomorrow. Lose, and you’re in the Team Battles.”

“…Got it,” Li Shu sighed, completely at his teacher’s mercy. He really didn’t want to compete tomorrow, especially in Team Battles, where his teamwork was shaky.

Endless Ability Academy swapped to Li Shu, and Houde Ability Academy changed their lineup too.

No choice—the previous clay Ability user was severely burned. Phoenix flames meant even immediate healing couldn’t quickly clear the internal fire toxins.

The new contestant was a weapon-type Ability user. His weapon was an utterly unremarkable machete, so plain it barely seemed like an Ability user’s tool.

Lei Ze’en, who’d scouted this ability, grinned: “Don’t underestimate that machete. It’s [All-Cleaving Blade], capable of cutting anything, including your abilities like fireballs. If he hits them, they’re useless.”

This ability was indeed formidable, likely able to block even Si Zhaohua’s ultimate move.

But they understood Lei Ze’en’s smile—their lineup choice was another success. Li Shu’s ability was [Illusion], not something a blade could cut.

Since studying with that master last semester, Li Shu’s illusions had grown seamless. In practice, teammates often fell into his illusions unaware, only breaking free after losing.

In Class S, only Jiang Tianming and I could easily see through his illusions. Jiang Tianming was immune to abilities, and I could tell because Li Shu couldn’t simulate a flawless Destiny Compass.

Simulating a Destiny Compass at all was impressive, since it was beyond his knowledge, purely conjured from my memories. But the pointers couldn’t adjust, so no matter how real it looked, I’d know it was an illusion.

The audience saw the match start with Li Shu and his opponent fighting normally. But soon, Li Shu stepped back silently, leaving his opponent battling air.

Audience: “?”

This wasn’t how you rig a match, was it?

Zhao Xiaoyu’s commentary clarified that the opponent was trapped in Li Shu’s [Illusion].

While casting [Illusion], Li Shu couldn’t attack. He had to focus entirely on maintaining the illusion’s stability, or fluctuations might tip off the opponent, ruining everything.

It now depended on whether Houde Ability Academy’s contestant could realize he was in an illusion. If he could break it, Li Shu was done. If not, he’d be sent off the arena unaware.

Sadly, he didn’t succeed. He fought until he jumped off the arena himself.

Only when the referee declared Li Shu’s victory was the [Illusion] lifted. Realizing he was off the arena, the opponent looked baffled as his teammates led him away.

For the final match, Endless kept Li Shu, while the enemy swapped. They likely thought knowing about the illusion would help them break free, but they underestimated Li Shu. He pulled a double-layered illusion, tricking the opponent completely, securing the final individual match victory.

As the referee announced the result, I heard Manga Consciousness' prompt: “King of Abilities has updated. Please review.”

The day’s matches ended, and we headed back together. Turning, I saw Ai Baozhu walking with Si Zhaohua. He’d changed into fresh clothes, looking spirited and fully recovered.

“Zhaohua, you’re okay?” Jiang Tianming asked, pleasantly surprised.

Si Zhaohua nodded with a smile: “Dr. Wang’s treatment was very effective. Aside from not being able to use my skill, I’m back to normal.”

“Dr. Wang’s treatment…” Qi Huang shuddered, her expression complex. She was practically traumatized by Dr. Wang now. “Did you drink that stuff too?”

Si Zhaohua looked puzzled: “Drink what? I was unconscious from the arena until now. No chance to drink anything, right?”

Qi Huang sighed with genuine regret: “You should try it later.”

“No more matches today. Wanna stroll around?” Ai Baozhu suggested eagerly. She’d spent the whole day in the infirmary with Si Zhaohua and was itching to explore.

Jiang Tianming shook his head, calmly countering, “Aren’t you worried something might happen if we go out?”

He’d learned his lesson. With our class' bad luck, plus the “Black Flash” organization lurking, it was best to stay put. If something happened, they’d miss the Tri-School Competition.

Knowing he was right, Ai Baozhu’s delicate nose wrinkled in dissatisfaction but resignation: “Fine… Let’s just wander the venue then. That’s safe, right?”

Hearing this, I smirked inwardly. Safe in the venue? On the contrary, the greatest danger was hiding here. It depended on how many clues they could uncover.

Worthy of being the protagonist squad—danger followed them like the wind.