Out-of-Syllabus Question

Meanwhile, in the spectator hall.

On the enormous circular light screen, live footage from the Ruined City arena played in split-screen. The central display was fixed on the plaza where Qin Wu and the others were taking a break.

A group of people sat watching the screen from wide leather sofas.

“Heh. Huaqing is as dominant as ever this year.”

The blond, blue-eyed man seated at the far left was the first to break the silence. He was the chairman—and principal—of Academy Zero.

“Charles was too impulsive.”

Beside him, a representative from Shengu Academy—an elderly man dressed in traditional attire—merely shook his head. Yet his gaze remained fixed on Chen Guan, the boy carrying a scythe on the screen.

“That boy won through a sneak attack and disrupted Koichi’s plan.”

“In a competition, strength speaks for itself. He was overconfident. How can you call it a sneak attack?”

A cool female voice rang out abruptly.

Su Yuehe’s mother, Council Chair Su Jin, lifted her teacup and gently skimmed away the foam with its lid, not even raising her eyes.

“Council Chair Su, I didn’t mean anything by it.” The elder from Shengu Academy gave an awkward laugh, trying to explain himself. He clearly had not expected Su Jin to speak up for Chen Guan. This council chair had always been impartial and rarely favored either side.

“Using stimulants is a tactic. So is a sneak attack.”

Su Jin set down her teacup, the porcelain making a crisp sound. “If you lose, then none of it matters.”

The chairman of Academy Zero immediately looked grim. Her words had taken a jab at him as well, yet he could not utter a single word in rebuttal.

“All right. It’s just a contest between children; no need for us old folks to get worked up over it.”

An Changsong, seated at the head of the room, spoke up to smooth things over. As president of the Superpower Association, his eyes fell upon his own son’s steady figure on the screen, and a pleased smile unconsciously touched his lips.

He had at least a third of his father’s bearing back in the day.

“Still, Yuehe has truly given us quite a surprise.”

At last, a trace of undisguised pride appeared on Su Jin’s face, though her words remained as reserved as ever. “She merely did what she was supposed to do.”

“And that first-year student named Shan Heng has a sharp mind.”

An Changsong smiled and nodded. “Indeed, he’s a promising youngster. Huaqing’s current generation is brimming with talent.”

Their conversation made the representatives from the defeated side look even more displeased. Meanwhile, Huaqing’s principal, Ren Ping, kept forcing a smile that rose and fell at the corners of his mouth. He had mentally gone through every sad memory of his life just to keep it from showing.

“All right, the match isn’t over yet.”

An Changsong lightly tapped the table, drawing everyone’s attention back. “I imagine what concerns you all more right now is that thing.”

His finger pointed toward the charred, eerie patch of open ground at the center of the screen.

Sure enough, everyone’s gaze focused on it.

“What exactly is that?” The chairman of Academy Zero frowned. Even he had not known about this part of the event schedule beforehand.

It had most likely been decided by An Changsong and Su Jin. When those two joined forces, they could alter the program without consulting anyone else.

“President An, shouldn’t the Superpower Association give us an explanation?”

Ren Ping also turned to An Changsong, equally at a loss.

“There is, of course, an explanation.” An Changsong leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced before him. “It is a door leading into the past. Beyond that door lies the lingering echo of a certain will.”

“A lingering echo of a will?”

The representatives from the various academies exchanged looks.

“A sealed spiritual imprint,” Su Jin continued. “It causes no physical harm, but it draws every living being that approaches into an illusion constructed from that imprint. It is an additional test of their mental resilience.”

“What kind of spiritual imprint requires such an elaborate setup?”

The elderly man from Shengu pressed the question.

“Astaroth.”

The instant that name fell, undisguised shock appeared on the faces of the powerful figures present.

“The demon god Astaroth?” the chairman of Academy Zero blurted out.

“Only a fragment of its spirit that was stripped away,” An Changsong corrected, his expression turning grave as well.

“We sealed it beneath this competition venue because we wanted to see just how far this generation’s most outstanding children could go when faced with the purest form of malice.”

“This is absurd!”

The old man from Shengu slammed his hand onto the table and rose to his feet.

“That is the will of a demon god, even if it is only a fragment!”

“That is precisely why it is a true test.”

Su Jin’s voice remained as cold and firm as ever. “On future battlefields, the enemies they will face are beings like Astaroth.”

“If they cannot even pass a test like this, then they do not deserve to be called the best.”

Her words were cruel, but they were also the truth.

The hall fell silent once more. Everyone watched the students on the screens, still unaware of what awaited them, their expressions becoming complicated.

From the very beginning, this competition had never been merely a contest between academies.

Some of them had been assigned questions far beyond the syllabus from the outset, yet no one could object—because these children truly were beyond the norm.

Besides, even Su Jin’s own daughter was among them. Who could possibly say anything?

“Rest assured, we have set a safety threshold.”

An Changsong eased the tension. “The moment any student can no longer endure it, they will be forcibly teleported out of the area. There will be no danger to their lives.”

That was what he said, but his gaze swept across several children on the screens.

This time, the idea had not been his. It had still been Su Jin’s.

Su Jin had said that since Su Yuehe wanted to involve herself in matters Su Jin had never wanted her involved in, she needed to prove herself.

An Changsong had not objected. His wife had said Su Jin’s decision was the right one, and he had always trusted his wife’s judgment.

…

Meanwhile, in the plaza.

“How about I just throw a punch at it and see what happens?” Long Ao finally stopped and turned to face the others, his expression eager. “Whatever the hell that thing is, let’s smash it first and talk later.”

“Save your strength.” Qin Wu looked helpless. He had just finished checking on every team member, and fortunately, no one was missing. “What if that punch of yours triggers another unexpected change? Who’s going to deal with it then?”

Long Ao curled his lips and muttered, “I’m just getting anxious watching everyone stand around and wait.”

“Enough. Stop fooling around.”

An Changqing rose to his feet, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. His gaze turned once more toward that eerie area.

“The competition timer hasn’t stopped. The organizers clearly expect us to deal with this thing.”

“That being the case, I’ll go in and scout ahead. If anything goes wrong, I can try to jump back.”

An Changqing’s voice was not loud, yet the entire square fell abruptly silent.

“No.”

Long Ao said it without a moment’s hesitation. He stepped in front of An Changqing. “If anyone’s going, it’ll be me.”

“Move.”

An Changqing’s brow furrowed. He had completely run out of patience with his thickheaded best friend, who always insisted on facing danger first.

“My ability lets me jump back. Even if I run into danger, I have a better chance of getting away than you do.”