Chapter 138

Chapter 138 Chapter 138 “Your hearts haven’t been settled lately,” Meng Huai said with a half-smile, scanning the class as he entered. “Come, Mu Tieren, what’ve you been discussing?” “The monthly exam, Teacher,” Mu Tieren answered obediently. Meng Huai crossed his arms, signaling him to sit, then addressed the class from the podium: “Since you’re so curious, I’ll explain the exam rules. Was he being this nice? Everyone looked skeptical. But Meng Huai wasn’t joking, diving into the exam: “As you’ve heard, it’s an intra-school track competition—attack, defense, control, support, special. Each track picks two contestants, one main, one reserve, for the midterm three-school competition.” This was old news, but he added new details: “No items, no intentional killing, no banned substances like stimulants. These rules apply to the three-school competition and even international ones.” Unlike the last semester’s [Campaign Reenactment], which allowed items and stimulants if not excessive, this was different. Real campaigns used items, but human battles differed from Nightmare Beast fights. “Track sign-ups start tomorrow. We’ll review them, rejecting unfit ones. Also, each track’s test is different. Don’t pick the least competitive track just because your ability fits multiple. You might regret it.” Some lowered their heads sheepishly. After covering precautions, Meng Huai bared his fangs: “Ten slots total. With 15 in our class, if one goes to another class...” He sneered: “Our class size won’t change, but outstanding people will join, right?” The implication was clear—if another class took a slot, they’d likely join S Class. With fixed numbers, someone would be kicked out. The excited class felt urgency. Being ousted from S Class would be humiliating. Losing to a classmate due to downsizing was one thing, but losing to an outsider after all their resources? That’d brand them failures. “Any questions?” Meng Huai asked, as usual. Jiang Tianming raised his hand: “Teacher, when will we know each track’s test details?” “The day before the exam,” Meng Huai replied. “What’s the exam process? Like last semester’s monthly exam?” Qi Huang asked. Meng Huai shook his head: “No, it’s one day. Each track has its own venue, done after testing. The main team then trains for coordination.” He glanced at Su Bei: “Every year, we train the main team to develop a synergistic combo skill. If you won’t cooperate, leave early.” Was that aimed at him? Su Bei felt wronged. He wasn’t a lone wolf—he was great at teamwork. After class, they gathered to discuss. The exam was individual, but now they reconsidered. If someone missed out and an outsider joined S Class, it might not be the exam flunker who got kicked. “I’m signing up for attack,” Si Zhaohua said. It didn’t concern him—no matter what, he wouldn’t be ousted. “Special,” Su Bei said lightly. “I’m also going for special,” Feng Lan added, “but I probably won’t make it.” His ability wasn’t suited for arena fights. Last semester’s first monthly exam, with less ability mastery, allowed dodging attacks via five-second prophecies. Now, pure martial arts gave him no edge against Ability Users. But he didn’t plan to join the team, knowing his place was secure in the school or national team without a slot, thanks to his ability to predict tomorrow’s battles. His [Prophecy] ability was versatile, ensuring his family’s longevity. As the one closest to prophecy’s essence, he was exceptional. His demeanor showed he didn’t care, so no one offered unnecessary comfort. “I’m going for control,” Jiang Tianming said with a smile, unfazed by his secret’s exposure risk. Su Bei guessed he had a plan. Zhou Renjie’s eyes flashed with caution: “I’m also control.” His ability allowed hard control, a strong control-type skill. His caution stemmed from needing to make the team, preferably main, reserve at worst. If he missed both, he dreaded his parents’ scolding. His family had ambitious half-siblings and cousins eyeing his position. Failing to shine could cost him his heir status. Though he looked down on Jiang Tianming’s background, he rationally knew Jiang Tianming wasn’t weak, or he wouldn’t last in S Class. Thus, learning his rival was Jiang Tianming sparked genuine wariness. One rival wasn’t bad. Zhou Renjie scanned the group: “Anyone else for this track?” His scheming was obvious, but it didn’t need hiding—everyone would know eventually. Mo Xiaotian raised his hand: “Me!” Hoping he only had one competitor, Zhou Renjie’s heart sank again. Mo Xiaotian wasn’t an easy opponent—he’d started in Class A. Jiang Tianming caught a flaw: “You’re signing up for control? Will your ability qualify?” Right! Zhou Renjie realized it too. Mo Xiaotian was seen as attack-type, using explosive blocks in solo battles. “Here, this counts as control, right?” Mo Xiaotian manipulated air, forming an [Air] wall and touching it. Everyone touched it, understanding. It fit control, though attack was viable too. But attack was more competitive, so Mo Xiaotian chose the easier track. It didn’t seem like him. Wu Mingbai asked: “You decided on control yourself?” As expected, Mo Xiaotian shook his head: “I wanted attack, but Grandpa said control.” Zhou Renjie wanted to ask if he could defy his grandpa and go for attack. He tested: “I think you’re better for attack. If you like it, choose it. You can’t always listen to elders.” He poured all his gentleness into that, but Mo Xiaotian dashed his hopes: “No way. Grandpa’s looking out for me. I’ll stick with control.” No choice—Zhou Renjie gave up, returning to his seat, chewing his thumb, racking his brain for a way to secure a slot. Two out of three were good odds, but neither rival was easy to beat, and he lacked confidence. He overheard “control” again, listening to Wu Jin talking to Zhao Xiaoyu: “My dad said control or support. I’m leaning support.” Zhou Renjie wished he’d pick control, pushing out Jiang Tianming or Mo Xiaotian. To him, Wu Jin was just connections—strong ones, but the principal wouldn’t force him onto the team. Getting into S Class was already much; the academy’s higher-ups wouldn’t allow a team spot. Zhao Xiaoyu and Su Bei understood Wu Jin’s choices—[Succubus] fit both tracks. Others didn’t. Jiang Tianming, puzzled: “Why? Can your ability pass for those?” In his view, Wu Jin’s [No Presence] suited special, barely support, let alone control. “My dad told me to,” Wu Jin said simply. Days before the exam, sign-ups finished. Su Bei’s competitors were Feng Lan and Li Shu. Knowing Feng Lan’s ability wasn’t arena-suited, it was just him versus Li Shu for main and reserve. Others? Su Bei thought a dark horse might emerge, but likely not in his track. They’d compete with Jiang Tianming’s group, Wu Mingbai, or Lan Subing, not his niche track. The day before, the first-year bulletin board posted each track’s test details and venues. Attack was on the field—pure arena battles, winner takes all. The simplest way to judge strength. Defense was in the combat classroom, testing resistance to a teacher’s attacks—higher resistance, higher rank. They’d test twice: single-target and group attacks. The academy would pick based on overall performance. Support had two tests: healing and buffing. Healing was in the infirmary, curing a severely injured person, judged on speed and effect. Speed mattered most—even temporary recovery was fine, as outside doctors would handle post-match. Match performance was key. Buffing was in another combat room, applying buffs to one of two fighting teachers, testing utility and timing. Good timing could outshine stronger abilities. Control tested team battle control and coordination. Usually, a team’s commander was support or control. Endless Ability Academy didn’t specify, letting the best fit lead, so both tracks tested command. Oddly, the test was in a regular classroom. A team battle there? Likely an illusion. Finally, Su Bei’s special track was the strangest. The test content wasn’t posted a day early, only stating it’d be revealed on exam day. The venue was a classroom. Back in class, the next teacher, Lei Ze’en, was already there, teaching ability item basics. He was lenient, and S Class students feared no one anyway. Mo Xiaotian, chin on the desk, asked: “Teacher, why’s the special track’s test secret?” Lei Ze’en, expecting this, smiled: “What’s the special track’s role in the three-school competition?” This stumped them—they hadn’t considered it. Other tracks’ roles were clear; special seemed like a filler. But that wasn’t right. Adding a track wasn’t necessary—five weren’t mandatory. They could add a ranged attack or assassin track. Jiang Tianming answered uncertainly: “Because they have unexpected effects?” Lei Ze’en nodded appreciatively: “Exactly. Their bizarre abilities confuse enemies.” “But why hide the test content?” Mo Xiaotian still didn’t get it. Zhao Xiaoyu answered for Lei Ze’en: “It tests thinking, right? Solving a test quickly shows you can surprise opponents in the competition.” “Exactly!” Lei Ze’en gave her a thumbs-up. “So don’t try prying info from me—I’ve told you everything.” He wasn’t holding back—he’d shared all he could. His explanation hinted the special track’s test would be absurd. The more absurd and quickly solved, the more it showed the solver’s unpredictability, key for surprising opponents. Zhou Renjie gloated at Su Bei and Li Shu: “You two won’t both fail, right? That’d be hilarious.” He didn’t mention Feng Lan, who he couldn’t afford to provoke and who’d said he wasn’t competing. Only three were in the special track. Li Shu smiled gently: “I’m not confident. Three in our track—if the other two get picked, I’d be heartbroken.” “Pfft!” Wu Mingbai laughed loudly, catching Li Shu’s hint, as did others. Three-person tracks included special, support, and Zhou Renjie’s control. But special and support each had one—Feng Lan and Zhao Xiaoyu—not competing. Only Zhou Renjie’s track had three vying for two spots. Li Shu’s worry was a jab at Zhou Renjie. Zhou Renjie’s face darkened—Li Shu hit his fear. He worried about failing, with his mother’s daily calls stressing the event’s importance and his father’s occasional reminders. Looking at him, Su Bei raised a brow, seemingly kind: “Want me to prophesy your exam result?” Everyone was surprised. Zhou Renjie’s eyes lit up, then darkened: “No need! I... I’m going to the bathroom!” He fled, as if escaping something. “Why’s he running?” Mo Xiaotian asked, confused, looking where he vanished. Su Bei smirked: “Probably scared of a bad result.” Everyone understood. Zhou Renjie had just mocked Su Bei, so hearing Su Bei offer a prophecy, he assumed it’d be bad—why else would Su Bei be so kind? Su Bei’s move was ruthless. He said nothing yet everything. “So, will he fail?” Lan Subing turned, her water-blue eyes full of curiosity. From experience, she believed Su Bei knew results in advance. He didn’t answer, shrugging: “Who knows?” Then, half-smiling: “Aren’t you underestimating other classes too much?” They’d talked like it was S Class-only competition. But it was all first-years, with many rivals. Lei Ze’en, having watched enough drama, spoke: “Didn’t expect Su Bei to be the clearest-headed. He’s right—have some sense of crisis.” He said no more, starting class early. After, Feng Lan patted Su Bei’s shoulder, waiting for him to turn: “Did you see something?” Before Su Bei answered, he continued: “I saw Zhou Renjie... with a grim expression.” He didn’t hide it. Zhou Renjie’s small eyes widened: “Me?” Feng Lan nodded: “I couldn’t see others, just you. Since it’s a recent prophecy fragment, it’s likely exam trouble.” “But maybe not other classes—could be Mo Xiaotian or Jiang?” Wu Mingbai guessed. He looked down on both but acknowledged their strength. Their three-way match was a spectacle, outcome uncertain until the end. “I don’t know, so I’m asking Su Bei,” Feng Lan said, looking at him. “So, what did you see?” “Guess,” Su Bei replied universally, stretching. “I’m heading back. Tomorrow’ll burn brain cells—I need rest.” In the same track, Li Shu, who rarely approached since last semester’s one-sided beating, stood: “I’ll go with you.” They left, heading to the school gate in sync. It was dinner time, and tired of cafeteria food, they planned to eat at a nearby restaurant. The academy’s food was good, but three years of it killed interest. Students alternated between eating out and cafeteria, keeping the Food Street bustling. Waiting for food, Li Shu half-joked: “What if a dark horse rises tomorrow, and we’re fighting for the last special track spot?” Su Bei shook his head firmly. Li Shu thought he’d deny a dark horse, but he said: “I’ll definitely make it. If there’s a dark horse, it’ll be you and them fighting for the last spot.”