Battle, just like that... is over

The figure appeared without warning.

As if he had always been standing there, only now being peeled away from the background.

The Mountain-Splitting Demon Ape's fist, capable of shattering stone, swept through the air with devastating force, descending toward the head of a female student collapsed on the ground.

The girl had already closed her eyes, her face filled with despair.

The fist stopped—less than half an inch from her scalp.

Time had not frozen.

The wind still howled, whipping the girl's hair into wild disarray.

Yet that massive, blood-and-brain-matter-smeared fist hung rigidly in midair, unable to advance even a fraction further.

Not just the fist.

The entire hulking body of the Mountain-Splitting Demon Ape seemed filled with concrete, every joint, every muscle turning sluggish and stiff.

The blood-red flames burning in its single eye flickered violently, brimming with fury and confusion.

It couldn’t understand why its body no longer obeyed its commands.

Everyone followed the source of this eerie change.

The newly appeared figure was one of the members from the top-ranked team in points.

Usually, he lingered at the back of his squad, silent, wearing black-rimmed glasses—more like a support than a frontline fighter.

His cultivation test results were mediocre, barely reaching mid-stage seventh rank.

And that was after stagnating at early-stage seventh rank for a long time.

Everyone had assumed, subconsciously, that his teammates were the reason for their success.

Now, this "support" stood quietly, one hand in his pocket, the other casually extended forward, fingers splayed.

At his feet, on the blood-and-flame-stained ground, shadows came alive.

Not just his shadow.

The shadows of everyone, every tree, every rock, every monster—every shadow on the battlefield was given life in that moment.

They twisted, stretched, converging into black chains that silently coiled around the limbs and torso of the Mountain-Splitting Demon Ape.

These shadows had no physical form, yet they were tougher than the strongest alloy, binding the seventh-rank-late terror in place.

His name was Chen Ye.

He adjusted his glasses, the lenses reflecting the campfire’s glow.

His gaze fell on Li Ran, who lay in a pool of blood, his shoulder torn open by the demon ape’s claws, struggling even to stand.

"Fighting isn’t just about shouting and recklessness."

His voice was calm, as if stating a simple fact.

Li Ran’s head jerked up, lips trembling, but no words came out.

Humiliation, rage, and something else—something even he couldn’t name—flickered in his eyes.

Chen Ye didn’t look at him again.

His outstretched fingers slowly curled into a fist.

Creak—creak—!

A grating, crushing sound came from the Mountain-Splitting Demon Ape’s body.

The shadow chains constricted violently, their immense force digging into flesh, compressing bone.

"ROOOAR—!"

The demon ape let out the most agonized howl of its life.

It thrashed wildly, its massive body unleashing its last reserves of strength—but the shadows didn’t budge.

Then—

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Dozens of sharp shadow spikes erupted from within the chains, piercing through the demon ape’s body from every angle.

Each spike struck a vital point—heart, spine, brain…

The roar cut off abruptly.

The blood-red flames in its single eye dimmed rapidly, then extinguished completely.

Its colossal body collapsed, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Everyone froze—students and beasts alike—staring dumbfounded at the scene.

Chen Ye withdrew his hand, slipping it back into his pocket as if he’d done nothing more than swat a fly.

He turned, stepping away from the battlefield’s center.

Then—

A pitch-black, armored Drill-Terror Worm burst from the ground, its ringed maw gaping wide, aiming to bisect him at the waist.

"Look out!" Liu Feiyu shouted instinctively.

Chen Ye didn’t even glance back.

The shadow at his feet swelled, morphing into a massive, clawed hand of pure darkness that seized the lunging worm midair.

A squeeze.

Crack!

The carapace—hard enough to withstand artillery fire—shattered like glass.

The Drill-Terror Worm didn’t even have time to scream before it was reduced to pulp.

Chen Ye walked past the mangled remains without breaking stride, not a single drop of blood staining his clothes.

On the observation platform, Lin Xiao’s stiffened muscles finally relaxed.

Good.

At least not everyone had disappointed him.

---

Elsewhere.

Yun Huang was advancing toward the third beast’s location when she suddenly halted.

She felt it.

The Mountain-Splitting Demon Ape’s violent, corrupted presence—gone.

Only one seventh-rank-late beast remained.

A monstrous creature covered in indigo-blue scales, its coiled body the size of a small hill.

Nine grotesque heads sprouted from its neck, each slightly different in shape.

The leftmost head gathered deep violet poison in its maw, the central one’s eyes gleamed with icy blue light, while the rightmost spewed highly corrosive acid…

Almost like the legendary Hydra.

It was the most dangerous, most lethal existence in this beast tide.

With the demon ape dead, the Nine-Headed Hydra’s attacks grew even more frenzied.

Its massive body rampaged unchecked, nine heads spewing lethal assaults from every angle. No student squad could withstand even a single coordinated barrage.

The defensive line had been torn open, several students frozen solid, engulfed in poison, their fates unknown.

Yun Huang.

Compared to the monstrous beast, she looked fragile enough to be crushed in an instant.

"Hssss—!"

The Hydra noticed the human blocking its path.

Its blood-red eyes held nothing but pure killing intent.

Without hesitation—

All nine heads reared back.

Frost, poison, acid—three distinct forces of destruction converged into an inescapable net of death, descending upon Yun Huang.

Those nearby could smell the noxious stench of the toxins, see the acid eating through stone with a sickening hiss.

"Move!" someone screamed.

Yun Huang didn’t move.

She simply raised her hand.

The air around her distorted visibly, like asphalt shimmering under a scorching summer sun.

Frost, poison mist, and acid—the moment they surged into this domain, they were as if thrown into a furnace and refined.

Transformed into white smoke, they let out a sizzling hiss.

For the first time, confusion flickered in the nine pairs of enormous beastly eyes of the Hydra.

It couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

But its instinct for slaughter drove it to unleash an even fiercer assault.

Its massive body lunged forward, the central frost-covered head snapping open its maw, aiming to crush the tiny human and her eerie flames between its jagged teeth.

Yun Huang still didn’t move.

She merely watched calmly as the fang-filled jaws drew nearer.

Under the gaze of everyone present,

those monstrous teeth, with force enough to shatter mountains and a chill that could freeze bone, swallowed Yun Huang’s figure in an instant.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment.

The hearts of every witnessing student clenched in dread.

No evasion.

No defense.

Just… devoured?

Yet, the expected scene of gore and carnage never came.

The Hydra’s maw froze mid-air.

Its biting motion halted, the bloodlust in its eighteen eyes replaced by sheer terror.

Inside its gaping mouth, the human figure still stood, unharmed.

Only now, in her hand, there was a sword.

A slender blade wreathed in crimson flames.

The sword’s form was delicate yet unnervingly solid, as if not entirely made of energy. Along its edge, the flames were compressed to an extreme, warping the air with their intensity.

It didn’t radiate scorching heat—instead, the surrounding air turned icy, as though all warmth had been drawn into that lethal edge.

It was this sword that effortlessly held back the Hydra’s fangs.

Yun Huang gripped the hilt and gave her wrist a slight twist.

Ssssh—

No deafening crash, just a faint sound like oil poured over ice.

The frost-covered head split cleanly from jaw to crown, severed by a silent crimson line.

The cut was smooth as glass, not a single drop of blood spilled—the wound had been incinerated the moment it formed.

The head simply fell apart, dissolving into two handfuls of drifting ash.

"Hssss—!!!"

The remaining eight heads shrieked in agony and horror.

They went berserk.

Poison mist, acid, flames, curses—eight different attacks erupted from eight angles, a cataclysmic storm aimed at the tiny figure wielding the sword.

Yun Huang moved.

Her form blurred into an afterimage as she charged straight into the maelstrom of destruction.

A crimson arc of light flashed across the battlefield.

The sword’s glow wasn’t blinding, but it carried an unyielding finality—a will to sever all things.

Poison mist was cleaved in half, unable to reform.

Acid evaporated before even touching the blade.

Flames collided with the light and were devoured like moths flying into the sun.

Where the sword passed, one grotesque serpent head after another silently soared into the air, only to turn to ash mid-flight.

The entire sequence was impossibly fast.

To the onlookers, it was merely a single, deadly crimson arc tracing a lethal circle around the Hydra’s colossal body.

When the light faded and Yun Huang reappeared in her original spot, the Hydra’s massive form had been reduced to a headless, writhing pillar of flesh.

All nine heads—gone.

Yet it wasn’t dead.

The bloodlight-controlled remains thrashed wildly, severed necks squirming as if trying to regenerate.

Yun Huang didn’t grant it the chance.

She took a single step and vanished, reappearing high above the twitching mass.

Gripping the sword with both hands, she raised it high—then brought it down with devastating force.

This strike lacked the finesse of before.

It was pure, distilled annihilation.

The crimson flame-blade descended with unstoppable might, splitting the Hydra’s remains cleanly down the middle.

BOOM.

The hill-sized carcass was bifurcated.

Then, from within, a torrent of scarlet fire erupted like a bursting dam, engulfing the entire monstrosity in an instant.

In the silent inferno, the last of the seventh-tier peak sourcebeasts—along with the sinister bloodlight energy within it—was utterly incinerated.

Only a charred scar remained on the earth.

With a flick of her wrist, Yun Huang dispersed the flaming sword into embers that faded into the air.

All three leaders of the beast tide—annihilated.

The battlefield fell into an eerie, deathly silence.

The low-tier sourcebeasts still glowing with crimson light froze like puppets whose strings had been cut. The red in their eyes faded, replaced by primal confusion and fear.

They glanced at the corpses of their kin, at the blood-soaked humans, and finally at the figure standing at the heart of the carnage—a presence that made their very souls tremble.

"Awooo…"

A windwolf let out a whimper, the first to turn tail and flee back into the dark forest.

Its retreat was a signal.

Every remaining sourcebeast snapped out of its bloodlust, survival instinct overwhelming all else.

They stopped attacking, scattering like a routed tide, desperate to escape the nightmare of the campsite.

Just like that… the battle was over?

The surviving students stood drenched in blood, gasping for air, staring blankly at the ravaged battlefield.

They had won.

But none felt any joy in victory.

Could the gap between people really be this vast?

All eyes inevitably drifted toward two figures.

One—Chen Ye, hands back in his pockets, adjusting his glasses as if he’d done nothing at all.

The other—Yun Huang, robes fluttering like a phoenix’s wings.

……

In a shadowed corner,

Lin Xiao stood rigid, still clutching the skewer of his half-eaten sausage.

He watched the beast tide—his carefully orchestrated plan hijacked, then abruptly ended by two students in two utterly absurd ways—and felt his brain boiling like overcooked porridge.

Had the plan succeeded?

Yes.

He’d seen the students’ latent potential and ferocity emerge in desperation.

Had it failed?

Also yes.

Because in the end, victory hadn’t come from their grit—it came from two monsters who flipped the table entirely.