No way, we just created the game character, and he already cleared the game

Zhou Dahai wasn't particularly eager to share this news with everyone.

Because saying it out loud would feel a bit demoralizing.

But if he didn’t say it, and the person never showed up again, suspicions would inevitably linger.

"Teacher, is this for real?" Zhou Xukun rubbed his head, momentarily stunned.

Dozens of students from the martial arts class buzzed with discussion, exchanging bewildered glances.

At that moment, they couldn’t comprehend it—nor could they accept it.

Seriously?

We’ve barely started, and you’re already done?

"Teacher Zhou, you’re joking with us, right?" Xia Sichen felt his chest grow hot, almost suffocating.

Three training challenges.

Leaving aside the others, he was currently the only one who had attempted the holographic intelligent beast challenge.

No one else understood the sheer terror of facing that creature like he did.

Standing before a three-meter-tall beast, its fangs lined with barbs, fur bristling like needles, eyes gleaming with bloodlust—

Even knowing it was just a simulation, not real,

the overwhelming pressure felt undeniably genuine.

By his own calculations, even at his fastest, he’d need at least ten more days to adapt.

Only after adapting could he even think about fighting it.

And the battle itself? No way he’d win on the first try. He’d need to practice his footwork and martial techniques.

Otherwise, even if he dared to fight, without proper movement and skills, one swipe from those claws would finish him.

Just like what happened to Tan Tianze.

So, if he trained hard, the fastest he could defeat that saber-toothed wolf was around twenty-five days.

That would barely beat the winter break deadline.

The other students? Most probably wouldn’t even finish all three challenges in one break.

Completing two would already be impressive.

And now, you’re telling me that on the very first day, Wang Xian has already cleared them all?

That feeling…

It’s like they just logged into the game, created their characters, and bam—some dude had already beaten the final boss?

Just thinking about it felt absurd.

Only Chen Yuting’s gaze held more complexity than shock.

She even seemed to understand.

‘No wonder you said that…’

Now, she grasped the meaning behind Wang Xian’s earlier words.

In other words…

‘Was this his plan from the start?’

‘If you’re not training, what else are you planning to do?’

"Teacher…" Ye Miyue suddenly spoke softly, "Can we see his holographic intelligent beast challenge?"

"Yeah, yeah! I want to see it too!"

"Teacher, let us watch!"

......

Zhou Dahai sighed and shook his head.

"There’s nothing worth seeing. Finish your meals and get back to training."

Watch?

If you saw it, you’d probably lose sleep for days.

One slash.

No fancy martial techniques—just an ordinary, straightforward slash to end the fight.

Even now, Zhou Dahai found it hard to believe.

That one slash looked deceptively simple.

So simple it gave the illusion that anyone could do it.

But as the saying goes: "Ten years of practice for one moment on stage."

In that single slash, what did Zhou Dahai see?

An intimate understanding of the saber-toothed wolf’s behavior and instincts.

Precise timing and masterful foundational skills.

Razor-sharp focus and absolute mental calm.

Every one of those required years of training.

Especially the last one.

If someone was born with that kind of composure, then without a doubt, they possessed terrifying combat talent.

Realizing this, Zhou Dahai glanced at the chattering students and thought:

All you’d feel is the crushing weight of the gap between you and him.

So… better not watch.

Zheng Changhong was feeling fantastic.

Having served as deputy director of the Rongcheng Heavenly Blade Club for years,

this was the first time he’d ever been this exhilarated.

Right now, he could practically picture the smug face of that bastard from the Divine Sword Club—the one he’d been competing with for years—twisting in frustration.

And of course, there was the quiet thrill of having stumbled upon a genuine treasure.

Teacher, your eye for talent is truly unmatched!

Leading Wang Xian to the tenth-floor office, he waved a hand.

"Xiao Bai, bring Wang Xian a meal. He’ll eat here."

"Got it."

Turning back to Wang Xian, Zheng Changhong studied him carefully.

Not bad, not bad at all.

Well-proportioned features, a tall and sturdy frame, and most importantly—that unshakable calm.

Not a trace of excitement.

It proved that his performance in the earlier tests was backed by absolute confidence.

"Alright, while you eat, I’ll go over the club’s contract with you."

Zheng Changhong pulled out a pre-prepared document. "Originally, this was meant for after winter break, depending on your progress. The basic terms have already been explained by your teacher, Zhou Dahai."

Wang Xian nodded.

"The Class-D contract outlines the benefits we’re offering you. Everything’s listed here."

"Let me break it down for you in detail."

He spoke patiently.

Wang Xian listened.

The Class-D contract was typically designed for promising low-to-mid-tier martial artists.

It wasn’t really meant for high school students.

Because for most students, many of the contract’s perks were practically useless.

Take the martial secret technique, "Butcher’s Dissection," for example.

High schoolers generally couldn’t train it.

Simple reason: they weren’t allowed to hunt beasts outside the city walls.

Unless they came from obscenely wealthy families—the kind that could hire an entire squad of martial artists as bodyguards, whose sole job was to weaken beasts for the kill.

But even then, this method was horribly inefficient for mastering the technique.

Because the process of fighting a beast was about learning its movements, its body’s reactions in combat. Only by engaging firsthand could you truly master the technique.

If all you did was deliver the final blow, how much could you really learn?

Not that it was completely useless—just that you’d need to kill far more beasts to compensate.

Where a normal martial artist might master the technique after 100 kills,

you’d need hundreds, maybe even a thousand.

The cost—both in time and money—would be astronomical.

Then there were the energy cultivation methods, which required reaching at least the First Realm (with 10+ vitality points) to practice.

The genetic enhancement serums? Only useful after awakening one’s innate talent.

Even the combat gear provided—the lowest-tier stuff—still demanded First Realm strength to use properly.

As for movement techniques? Just mastering basic footwork was hard enough. Some First Realm martial artists didn’t even have a single movement technique, let alone advanced ones.

So, realistically, the only part of this contract that mattered to most high schoolers was the 5-million-credit stipend.

But all of this only applied to average students.

For true geniuses, every perk was valuable.

Naturally, if a club was willing to offer such a contract to a student, it meant they were exceptional in every way.

That’s why special conditions were attached.

With a seventh-realm grandmaster vouching for his talent, and Principal Xia of Seventh High acting as guarantor,

the Heavenly Blade Club had agreed to reserve a contract slot—on the condition that Wang Xian cleared at least two challenges by winter break’s end.

Now? He’d cleared all three on day one.

That wasn’t just meeting expectations—it was smashing them.

As for the obligations on Wang Xian’s end? They were relatively light.

Almost laughably simple.

Just fulfill a few club requests, most of which were minor time commitments.

For example, cooperating with club requirements:

It’s like practicing newly developed martial techniques and getting advice.

Forming a team to clear out hordes of mutated beasts outside the city and gather data.

Dropping by the club to check in, offering guidance and looking after newcomers.

Testing out newly developed equipment.

…None of it is particularly difficult.

Plus, the contract starts with a three-year term, offering annual funding and support. If you get promoted, you can even make direct requests.

“What do you think, Wang Xian?” Zheng Changhong smiled slightly.

“Not bad at all,” Wang Xian nodded.

In his past life, back in university, he hadn’t even been qualified to join a club…

Let alone receive any kind of funding.

“But…” Wang Xian hesitated.

Zheng Changhong asked,

“What is it?”

Conditions?

The terms of the D-grade contract were already generous for a student.

On top of that, it didn’t quite align with the club’s usual regulations.

If not for Bai Hongtian and the principal of Seventh High pulling strings, even if he’d passed three training trials on the first day, the club headquarters might not have agreed to sign a contract with a high school senior who hadn’t even awakened his martial talent yet.

“No conditions,” Wang Xian said. “Just a request.”

“Let’s hear it.”