Chen Guan's First Match

Qin Wu let out a breath of stale air, his gaze firmer than ever. After shedding the burden of having to be the strongest, he wanted even more to use this battle to prove his worth as a team captain.

The scrolling speed of the screen began to slow.

The first portrait came to a stop.

Then the second.

“First match: Zhao Qian of North City Academy versus Rick of Number Zero Academy.”

Several matchups appeared in succession, and the atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

In the Huaqing rest area, An Changqing’s gaze remained calm. Su Yuehe leaned against him with her eyes closed, as if none of this had anything to do with her.

On the enormous holographic screen, streams of light flashed rapidly before slowly coming to a halt.

“Next match: An Changqing of Huaqing Academy versus Roy of Number Zero Academy.”

An Changqing gave his teammates a slight nod, rose calmly, and walked toward the arena.

Shan Heng clenched his fists nervously, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the arena behind his glasses. He murmured under his breath, “Go, Senior Changqing! Senior Changqing will definitely win.”

Su Yuehe leaned back in her chair. Though her eyes were closed, the faint smile at the corners of her lips said everything.

She believed An Changqing would not lose.

The battle ended quickly. An Changqing’s sword became nothing more than a series of afterimages. The burly fighter from Number Zero Academy never even managed to get close before being forced out of the arena by layer upon layer of sword qi.

“Winner: An Changqing of Huaqing Academy.”

There was no hint of favoritism in An Changsong’s voice, but Principal Ren Ping’s grin was already stretching almost to his ears.

Sparse applause broke out in Huaqing’s rest area. Qin Wu watched An Changqing return with an air of effortless calm, envy and relief mingling in his eyes.

Once upon a time, he had believed that he had to be the brightest star of them all. But now, he was more willing to become the sturdy shield that protected those lights.

At that moment, Chen Guan’s gaze collided in midair with that of Hiiragi Qingbai from Kamitani Academy, igniting invisible sparks.

[Oh? Brother Coffin’s been targeted.]

[This Japanese player really holds a grudge. It was only one elimination—does he really have to take it this seriously?]

[The person above got it wrong. It wasn’t just one elimination. He humiliated all of Kamitani in the first round. How could he not hold a grudge?]

[Fast-forward to Brother Coffin turning him into a prisoner too.]

Unfortunately, the barrage was disappointed. The two did not meet in the first round.

The portraits on the screen began to roll again.

Light swirled before finally coming to a stop.

On the left was Chen Guan’s calm, impassive face.

On the right was a pretty girl with a high ponytail.

“Seventh match: Chen Guan of Huaqing Academy versus Yan Feiyan of North City Academy.”

The moment this matchup appeared, the atmosphere throughout the stadium became rather peculiar.

The atmosphere in North City Academy’s rest area turned oppressive.

Yan Feiyan.

Among North City Academy’s second-year students, she possessed the purest swordsmanship and the steadiest temperament. She was also the one Bai Huanran had planned to use against their toughest opponents.

But now, she had drawn Chen Guan, one of the standouts among Huaqing Academy’s group of monsters.

Though they were both second-year students, Bai Huanran saw no suspense left in the outcome.

Yan Feiyan paid no attention to the commotion behind her. She simply rose in silence, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and walked step by step toward the center of the arena with her sword in hand.

[So this is Brother Coffin’s opponent? This young lady looks so cool.]

[What a shame about her luck. She ran into Brother Coffin, so she’s destined to be eliminated in the first round.]

[What if your Brother Coffin gets upset?]

[Are you underestimating the show’s notorious cheater?]

Amid the discussion in the barrage, Chen Guan also stood up. He gave An Changqing and the others a slight nod, then walked toward the arena.

The two stood facing each other at the center of the field, ten meters apart.

The referee raised his hand high, then brought it down sharply.

“The match begins.”

There was no opening remark and no probing exchange.

The instant the referee’s voice fell, Yan Feiyan’s figure transformed into a streak of white light. The sword in her hand shot silently toward Chen Guan’s throat, moving with astonishing speed.

This strike abandoned all flashy techniques in pursuit of one thing alone: speed.

“What a fast sword.”

One of the sword experts in the stands could not help exclaiming softly.

Yet in the face of that thunderbolt-like thrust, Chen Guan casually raised the scythe in his hand and held it horizontally before him.

Clang!

With a crisp ring, the tip of Yan Feiyan’s sword—aimed to strike with absolute certainty—was firmly stopped by the broad back of the scythe. It was less than a fist’s distance from Chen Guan’s throat, but could advance no farther.

Yan Feiyan’s pupils contracted slightly, but her movements did not pause. With a flick of her wrist, her sword twisted like a snake flicking out its tongue, sliding along the back of the scythe toward Chen Guan’s weapon-wielding wrist.

A strike aimed at the hand—basic, but highly effective.

However, just as her blade reached the middle of the scythe, Chen Guan’s figure vanished before her eyes.

Yan Feiyan lost sight of her target. Her thrust, carrying its own momentum, fell into empty space, and the fierce wind it generated tousled the hair above her brow.

Her body did not hesitate in the slightest. Her waist twisted like a winch, and she slashed diagonally into the empty space behind her with a backhanded stroke. The motion flowed as naturally as water, as though she had eyes in the back of her head.

Empty. Still empty.

Yan Feiyan’s heart shuddered. Her combat instincts overrode conscious thought. She abandoned her attack, rolled backward in a split second, and instantly put distance between them.

She landed awkwardly and looked up.

Chen Guan was standing where she had been moments earlier. At some point, he had returned there. The enormous scythe rested casually on his shoulder, and his body was utterly motionless, as though he had never moved at all.

In North City Academy’s rest area, Bai Huanran’s expression sank completely.

He knew better than anyone how terrifying Yan Feiyan was. Her sword was fast, precise, and ruthless, and her heart was as still as an ancient well.

Yet now, she had not even managed to touch the edge of her opponent’s clothes.

Just how could this guy move so nimbly while carrying a ridiculously heavy coffin?

Wasn’t this game supposed to be played with an ordinary weapon?

“Junior Yan…”

A North City student had just begun speaking nervously when Bai Huanran pinned him in place with a cold glance. Not another word escaped him.

Even when the situation was unfavorable, Bai Huanran would not allow anyone to voice discouragement. Against Chen Guan, no one could be blamed for losing.

On the arena, Yan Feiyan said nothing. She merely held her sword horizontally before her chest and assumed the most basic opening stance. Yet her aura had become even calmer than before, like a deep, bottomless well.

The next moment, her figure vanished again.

This time, she did not launch a straight thrust as swift as thunder. Instead, she transformed into several blurred white figures that charged at Chen Guan simultaneously from every direction. Each afterimage dragged a silent streak of sword light behind it, completely sealing off all possible routes of escape.

The blades sliced through the air without making the slightest sound.

This was Yan Feiyan’s ultimate technique—Silent Sword.

Facing this all-encompassing encirclement, Chen Guan still stood where he was. He simply took the scythe off his shoulder and gripped its handle with both hands. With what appeared to outsiders to be an exceedingly clumsy motion, he swung it in front of him, creating a black ring that seemed capable of devouring everything.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

A dense series of crisp impacts suddenly erupted, like a torrential downpour hammering banana leaves.

Without exception, every streak of sword light was precisely knocked away by the enormous scythe.