Trash tactics for trash players.

In the monitoring room.

Wu Gong stared fixedly at Yun Huang, who had left the team, displayed on the main screen.

He was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan.

The worst part was that this person had been personally selected by Su Qi to join the team.

Not that he blamed Su Qi for poor judgment—quite the opposite.

Yun Huang was arguably the only sane person in the group.

Leaving because she couldn’t stand her eccentric teammates was only human.

But the problem was…

What if this was a "prearranged" team?

What if the entire competition was just a gilded showcase for this very team?

The higher-ups had entrusted him with such an important task—a sign of their trust.

If he messed this up…

He didn’t even dare imagine the consequences.

All he could do was mutter under his breath,

"We’re done for, we’re done for…"

Lin Xiao stood with his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable as he observed the scoreboard on the screen.

"These kids have such weak mental fortitude. It was just a demonstration match—how did it break them so completely?"

Su Qi’s team’s score column displayed a glaring number: 190.

This was their total from slaying the [Earthrend Bear] and a dozen or so lesser creatures.

While seventh-tier creatures were generally worth a hundred points each, that was only a rough estimate.

The gap between an early-stage and peak seventh-tier was massive, and the combat prowess of each source-beast varied. Treating them all as a flat hundred points was inherently unfair.

Thus, adjustments were made based on the [Life Sacrifice]’s absorption of vitality—a "score compensation" system.

As a result, Yun Huang’s squad proudly claimed the "top eight" spot among the participating student teams.

Meanwhile, the lowest-scoring of the other six teams had just barely surpassed three hundred points.

"If they can’t even face failure, what future do they have?"

Lin Xiao’s voice was devoid of emotion. "Teacher Wu, it seems your expectations for your students were too high."

"No, no, Brother Lin, just give them a little more time—they—"

Wu Gong tried to plead, but Lin Xiao cut him off.

"Time?"

He pointed to an inconspicuous corner of the screen, where Yun Huang could be seen moving swiftly through the forest alone.

"No one gives you time on the battlefield."

"I could give them time, but time isn’t something we have to spare…"

---

Yun Huang remained calm.

Her mind replayed the Thunderhawk Squad’s flawless hunt—every positioning, every strike, every act of self-sacrifice executed without hesitation.

That wasn’t teamwork.

It was absolute rationality, reducing themselves to nothing but tools.

She couldn’t do that. Neither could the people behind her.

So, she chose to go solo.

If she couldn’t be part of a precision machine, she’d become the sharpest blade instead.

Rustle.

A strange sound came from the bushes ahead.

Yun Huang halted, instantly melding into the shadow of a towering tree, her presence completely suppressed.

A seventh-tier early-stage [Shadowstalker Panther] cautiously peeked out from its hiding spot.

In a direct fight, Yun Huang was confident she could win—but it would cost her too much stamina.

She didn’t move. She simply waited.

The [Shadowstalker Panther] failed to detect her. After scanning its surroundings, it padded toward a nearby stream.

Yun Huang’s gaze settled on a fallen, hollowed-out log—the panther’s likely return path.

Opportunity.

Silently, she circled around, positioning herself on the opposite side of the log.

Time passed. The panther’s footsteps grew closer as it returned from its drink.

Three meters.

Two meters.

One meter.

The moment it leaped onto the log, Yun Huang struck.

No grand display, no dazzling flames.

Just a sudden lunge from the shadows, her crimson sword slicing through the air like an invisible red thread.

At an impossible angle, the blade pierced upward—straight into the panther’s vulnerable underbelly.

Fast. Precise. Ruthless.

A single strike. Instant death.

The [Shadowstalker Panther] didn’t even have time to let out a cry before its massive body collapsed.

In the monitoring room, Wu Gong watched his team’s score jump from 190 to 297.

Only thirty points behind the next team.

He nearly leaped out of his chair.

"See that, Brother Lin? See that? I told you—!"

Well.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been this excited.

He’d seen his fair share of battles, after all.

But after hitting rock bottom, already mentally drafting excuses for Elder Feng, this sight was nothing short of exhilarating.

Lin Xiao observed the girl on the screen—efficient, ruthless, wasting no movement—and finally nodded.

"She’s got potential."

"Pity she ended up with the wrong team."

"How did you even rope her into this?"

Wu Gong: "..."

Bribed five million to join the team, and now she’s the MVP?

---

Meanwhile, Li Ran, Liu Feiyu, and the others wandered aimlessly through the forest like headless flies.

No one spoke. The atmosphere was thick enough to wring water from.

Li Ran kicked a rock in frustration.

Liu Feiyu lingered at the back, endlessly polishing his already spotless glasses.

After what felt like an eternity, Li Ran suddenly stopped and turned.

The others halted, watching him.

"Hey, Four-Eyes…"

His voice was hoarse, none of his usual bravado left.

"Earlier… was I wrong?"

Everyone froze.

No one expected those words to come from Li Ran’s mouth.

Liu Feiyu paused mid-wipe.

He looked up, his eyes behind the lenses filled with something complicated.

No mockery. No lecture.

Just a slow shake of his head.

"We were all wrong."

Yang Fuchichan, who had been silent until now, spoke up softly.

"So… what do we do now? Just wait out the three days?"

"What else can we do?"

One boy slumped to the ground. "We couldn’t even handle a seventh-tier [Earthrend Bear] properly. How much more humiliation do we need?"

"Stop it…"

"My mom was right—I’m just a useless waste, good for nothing but eating…"

Negativity spread like a plague.

Someone even began sniffling quietly.

Li Ran’s chest tightened as if crushed by a boulder. He growled,

"Quit the waterworks! Crying won’t put food on the table!"

"So we lost. Big deal. You think those guys were born knowing how to coordinate?"

"You think they mastered teamwork in three days?"

"I refuse to believe the other teams are any better."

"If no one’s got teamwork, then we’ll just throw wild punches till something sticks!"

He pointed ahead.

"From now on, forget coordination. We focus on one thing!"

"Stay alive. And claw for every point we can get!"

The group stared at the man who, not long ago, had been as reckless as a wild boar.

The arrogance on his face vanished, replaced by a desperate, nothing-left-to-lose ferocity.

"What, am I wrong?"

Li Ran swept his gaze around, finally settling on Liu Feiyu.

"Four-Eyes, is your bullshit teamwork theory still useful now?"

Liu Feiyu silently adjusted his glasses, offering no rebuttal.

"If it's useless, then we do it my way!"

Li Ran took a deep breath, as if mustering every ounce of strength in his body.

"Right now, we're nothing but trash, a bunch of worthless losers!"

"But even trash can piss someone off before getting swept into the dump!"

"We're a team, but we don't have teamwork!"

"Teamwork has its own way of fighting."

"But we have our way too."

"The only goal is to survive—and kill every living thing we see!"

"Fight on your own, but remember this: if anyone dares to slack off and drag the team down, don't blame me for taking them out first!"

The words sounded contradictory—how could they fight individually yet not hold the team back?

Yet, paradoxically, this chaotic declaration reignited the dying embers in everyone's hearts.

Right, if they couldn’t coordinate, were they just going to wait for death?

Liu Feiyu stared at Li Ran for a long moment before speaking, his voice hoarse.

"Your plan is stupid."

Li Ran grinned, baring his teeth in a savage smile.

"I know."

"But it’s better than doing nothing."

"Damn it, I don’t believe the Great Xia officials expect much from a bunch like us anyway."

"As long as we don’t fall too far behind, who cares?"

"What happens after these three days isn’t my problem."

"Someone else will figure that out."

Liu Feiyu fell silent again.

Slowly, he stood up and straightened his glasses. "Fine. Let’s try it."

......

An hour later.

Li Ran found his next target.

A seventh-tier low-grade Origin Beast—[Stonehide Rhino]—gnawing on tree roots.

Known for its monstrous defense and low aggression, it was the easiest "soft target" he could find.

The [Stonehide Rhino] noticed him too, its thick hooves scraping the ground as it let out a deep, rumbling growl, steam puffing from its nostrils.

The next second, Li Ran moved.

No tactics, no probing.

He charged straight at it with unstoppable momentum.

His muscles bulged, his skin shimmering with a metallic sheen as he drove his fist straight into the beast’s skull.

Boom!

A heavy thud echoed through the forest.

Li Ran’s fist felt like it had smashed into solid granite, the recoil numbing his entire arm.

The [Stonehide Rhino] barely flinched, completely unharmed.

Its murky eyes even gleamed with something disturbingly human—mockery.

Then, it counterattacked.

Its massive body lunged forward with shocking speed, belying its clumsy appearance.

Li Ran had no time to dodge. He crossed his arms and took the hit head-on.

The impact sent him flying backward, crashing into a tree trunk with enough force to shake leaves loose.

"Cough—"

A mouthful of coppery blood sprayed from his lips.

His organs felt like they’d been rearranged, pain searing through him.

This was the raw power of a seventh-tier Origin Beast.

No fancy techniques—just pure, overwhelming force.

The [Stonehide Rhino] gave him no respite, charging again.

This time, Li Ran learned.

He rolled aside at the last second, barely avoiding the collision.

He began circling, no longer engaging directly.

His mind raced, dredging up every scrap of intel from the academy’s manuals about [Stonehide Rhinos].

Impenetrable defense, rock-like plating covering its body, weak point at… the seam near its hind legs’ base, where the armor connected.

But that spot only exposed itself when the beast reared or rolled.

Li Ran cursed inwardly.

He darted around the rhino, striking at different angles, searching for an opening.

Every attack left nothing but faint white marks on its hide.

No real damage.

......

In the monitoring room.

Wu Gong’s heart leaped into his throat.

"That kid’s a reckless idiot. If he keeps this up, he’ll exhaust himself and get ground into paste."

Lin Xiao, however, kept his eyes glued to the screen, silent.

Beside him, a staff member added a line to Li Ran’s profile:

[Combat Style: Fearless but severely lacking finesse. Prone to tunnel vision.]

Then, the battle shifted.

After failing to break through, Li Ran seemed to abandon strategy.

He stopped moving, standing right in front of the [Stonehide Rhino], panting heavily.

The beast roared in triumph, charging once more.

But this time, Li Ran didn’t dodge.

His eyes blazed with terrifying focus.

He dropped into a slide—ignoring the risk—and shot straight under the rhino’s belly.

As he passed through, his fist hammered into the unprotected flesh.

One strike.

Without armor, the soft abdomen couldn’t withstand his brutal assault.

The [Stonehide Rhino] shrieked in agony, thrashing wildly.

But Li Ran’s fist had already torn through its insides.

The fight was over.

Li Ran lay on his back, gasping for air, his chest heaving.

Every inch of him was battered, his stamina and soul force drained. He couldn’t even lift a finger.

But he’d won.

His lips curled into a soundless, bloodstained grin.

Messy. Brutal.

But victorious.

The team’s score jumped from 297 to 399.

......

Elsewhere.

The girl named Yang Fuchichan was using her speed to outmaneuver a seventh-tier [Gale Raptor] across a rocky terrain.

She didn’t engage directly. Instead, she kept her distance, her bow drawn taut as poison-tipped arrows whistled through the air.

Her fight was a patient hunt.

It took her twice as long as Li Ran, but she wore the [Gale Raptor] down bit by bit, emerging almost unscathed.

Though just as exhausted.

......

Liu Feiyu, meanwhile, faced a seventh-tier [Mirage Butterfly].

A creature with near-zero combat strength but terrifying illusionary abilities.

He didn’t charge like Li Ran or kite like Yang Fuchichan.

He simply stood still and closed his eyes.

Letting the lifelike illusions engulf him.

He stopped relying on sight, focusing entirely on sensing the subtlest flows of Origin energy around him.

Five minutes later, his eyes snapped open, and a card materialized in his hand.

"Break!"

An invisible psychic shockwave erupted from him, rippling outward.

The surrounding illusion shattered like smashed glass, collapsing instantly.

Not far away, on a rocky surface, a brilliantly colored butterfly weakly flapped its wings twice before tumbling to the ground.

There was no coordination, no command.

Only the most primal instinct—to win, to prove oneself.

The team's points began to climb at a slow yet unshakably steady pace.

501.

608.

710.

813.

Even though they were all just early-stage Tier-7 Origin Beasts,

their numbers made up for it.

In the monitoring room, Wu Gong was stunned.

He watched the screen as the team he had assumed was on the verge of collapse steadily closed the gap.

They were still at the bottom,

but the leading teams couldn’t pull far ahead either.