Chapter 142

Chapter 142 Chapter 142 Seeing his certainty, others looked surprised, but Su Bei understood. Wu Jin clearly planned to stop hiding his [Succubus] ability. No wonder he helped Qi Huang at the Feng Family—he’d intended to reveal it. Nearby, Zhao Xiaoyu, also privy to Wu Jin’s true ability, shared a knowing smile with Su Bei. She said meaningfully: “You’ll definitely shock everyone.” Wu Jin gave a wry smile: “I’d rather not.” Jiang Tianming and Wu Mingbai, listening, felt lost. But one thing was clear—Wu Jin was hiding something big, likely his ability. For Su Bei and Zhao Xiaoyu to trust he’d secure a slot, it had to be significant. If his ability wasn’t [Silence Is Silence], what was it? As they pondered, Lan Subing’s exam began inside. Though support was a paired duel, she wouldn’t test all day. S Class had privileges—testing only against Class A, B, and those who beat them. Her first match was that afternoon, against a Class A boy. Seeing her, the boy collapsed: “Why’d I get an S Class? Big Sis Lan, pity me—how many times can your [Word Spirit] be used?” Her social anxiety stifled her urge to retort. She stayed silent, using the five-minute prep to study her four teammates’ abilities, mentally reviewing her own. “Fix” was her go-to, but its Mental Energy cost varied by enemy strength. Weak foes cost little; strong ones could only be controlled briefly, risking backlash. Other control-type [Word Spirit] abilities followed suit, their cost tied to the enemy’s strength. Controlling objects was different, costing energy based on action, weight, and size—usually easier than controlling people. While questioning teammates, Lan Subing scanned the arena for manipulable objects, hoping to use one to reduce the enemy team by one, securing victory. The match began, revealing the boy’s ability—a team-oriented group buff ability. Despite identical teams, the enemy’s speed, strength, and ability intensity slightly outmatched hers. Worthy of Class A—his ability was potent. If its range was larger, it could rival Ling You’s war-type ability. If so, she needed to subdue him first. Eliminating another enemy wouldn’t change much with him around. She tried controlling him: “Fix!” Unexpectedly, he was unaffected, and her Mental Energy didn’t drain—her ability hadn’t activated. What? Could he negate abilities? Impossible, Lan Subing concluded. If he negated abilities and had such a strong buff, he’d be S Class, not A. If not ability negation, then... control immunity? With a plan, she whispered to her attack-type teammate, directing the four to adopt a “Tian Ji’s horse race” strategy—weakest against strongest. Attack-type faced their special-type, control-type faced support-type, defense-type faced control-type, and she intercepted their attack-type. Seeing his opponent was her control-type, the boy didn’t alter his setup. Against others, he’d split forces to protect himself, but control-types posed no threat—his ability negated control. This was why he didn’t surrender against Lan Subing. [Word Spirit] was strong, but most control effects on him were nullified, giving him confidence. Since Lan Subing didn’t warn her control-type teammate, he initially didn’t know the boy’s immunity, realizing it after failed attempts, switching to close combat. But earlier probes put him at a disadvantage, only holding even, unable to gain ground. Thanks to Lan Subing’s occasional buffs, the boy couldn’t defeat him either. Lan Subing herself, despite claiming support, held her own against their attack-type. In fact, she had the upper hand. [Word Spirit] let her briefly hard-control enemies. She conserved energy, never fully fixing them, but disrupting hands or legs at key moments, breaking their rhythm and escaping their ability range. After nearly a semester under Meng Huai and S Class teachers, losing to another class would be shameful. During a stalemate, the boy surveyed the field. Good—his buffs let even their weakest special-type match her attack-type. Wait—her attack-type? When did their attack-type get near him? Realizing the trap, it was too late. Lan Subing, taking a hit, maxed buffs on her attack-type. “Speed Up!” “Strength Boost!” “Ability Enhance!” Three [Word Spirit] buffs sent her attack-type charging like a shot, landing a blow that forced the teacher to save the boy, eliminating him. Without his buffs, the enemy team crumbled, quickly defeated by Lan Subing’s. Off the arena, the boy was helpless: “I didn’t lose to your support—I lost to tactics. And—” He shouted, exasperated: “Why’re you in the support track?” Lan Subing had to admit her support wasn’t as strong. He was a pure buff-type, while her ability was versatile, fitting any track. To his accusation, she replied: “In that match, my [Word Spirit] commands were all support-oriented.” True—she used no attack abilities. [Word Spirit] could attack—“Back Pain,” “Stomachache”—but to avoid unfairness, she hadn’t. Her victory, as he said, came from tactics, not pure support. Recalling, he realized she spoke truth and deflated. But he looked hopefully at the examiner: “Teacher, I lost, but my support ability’s good enough, right?” Hesitating, seeing his ability’s strength, the examiner was honest: “Support’s competition is fierce...” Meaning, despite his skill, qualification wasn’t guaranteed. He knew—Wu Jin, the principal’s son, was next, with an unknown but likely strong ability, given Principal Wu Di’s character. He’d never shove an unworthy son into S Class. Pleased to be among the first, besides S Class' teacher, to know Wu Jin’s ability, the examiner smiled, eager for post-exam gossip. “What? Support’s that competitive? I rarely see supports—why do they pop up now?” The boy panicked, pointing at Lan Subing. “Teacher, not all like her, right?” Versatile students like her felt like cheating to single-track ones. The examiner nodded helplessly: “Sometimes, multifunctional supports outshine pure ones in matches. But not always—you’ve got a decent shot.” He comforted the crestfallen boy: “Your ability ensures job prospects—official or private teams will want you. By third year, recruiters will come early.” “Thanks, Teacher,” the boy nodded, giving Lan Subing a thumbs-up. “Sorry for losing it—your support’s great.” He strode off. Watching him, Lan Subing murmured: “His ability boosts attack efficiency—could it improve work efficiency? I’ll tell Dad; maybe invest...” She left the classroom. “Kids these days think big,” the examiner said, sending them off, announcing: “Next, Zhang Helan versus Wu Jin!” Wu Jin hurried in. Outside, the group surrounded Lan Subing, asking how it went. “Won,” she smiled softly at their concern, but her brow furrowed. “I’m fine, but Wu Jin...” She was confident—[Word Spirit], overcoming her social anxiety, was top-tier among first-years, though not yet systematic. She worried for Wu Jin. They had little interaction—two quiet people rarely bonded—but as F Class alumni, she didn’t want him ousted from S Class. “Don’t worry,” Zhao Xiaoyu reassured, smiling. “He’s stronger than you think.” Like Su Bei, she’d noticed Wu Jin’s recent actions showed he’d reveal his secret, allowing her to hint. Curious, Lan Subing asked: “How so? Is his ability off?” She’d noticed too—Wu Jin’s swift Nightmare Beast kills when alone suggested his ability wasn’t what he claimed. Many in S Class suspected this. “You’ll know by the midterm,” Zhao Xiaoyu dodged, laughing it off. “Don’t you have another round?” Eliminated earlier, she was free like Su Bei’s group. Lan Subing nodded: “After this round, winners advance. But the teacher implied it’s not just the final two who qualify—overall performance matters.” If only the last two qualified, the examiner would’ve been blunt with her opponent, making rejection easier. They sat, waiting for Wu Jin. Jiang Tianming stayed silent, likely pondering The Birth of Nightmare Beasts. He hadn’t brought it out, knowing its sensitive content. If he read it now, S Class would peek out of curiosity. Su Bei didn’t mind, but feared Feng Lan recognizing it as a Feng Family book, causing trouble. Though he hadn’t told Wu Jin the book’s title, Wu Jin might’ve found it while Su Bei was out for help. Books in the Feng Family library’s secret room were likely rare. Others might not know, but Feng Lan and Wu Jin would. If they saw it circulating, they’d suspect him. Su Bei wasn’t worried. First, Jiang Tianming’s discreet nature meant he wouldn’t share secrets, especially with Feng Lan or Wu Jin. Second, if they knew, Su Bei had an excuse—“Destiny’s guidance.” Feng Lan, with [Prophecy], would likely buy it, knowing prophecies could compel actions. Wu Jin, not from the Feng Family, wouldn’t pry, at most asking once, not gossiping. With these safeguards, Su Bei planted the book boldly. He’d learned from past recklessness to be more cautious. Inside, Wu Jin and his opponent, a lively double-ponytailed girl, stood on opposite sides. During teammate prep, she called out: “Hey, you’re S Class' Wu Jin, right?” Getting no response, she pressed, unfazed: “I’ve always wondered how you got into S Class. Isn’t your ability some weak F Class thing? Your class never asked?” She aimed to unsettle him with trash talk, hoping he’d rebut, leaving less time to study teammates’ abilities. She’d already learned their abilities via a friend, planning how to use them and her ability to surprise Wu Jin. If he lacked prep time, she’d gain a tactical edge. But Wu Jin was unaffected, patiently asking each teammate’s ability, though not deeply—just their base abilities, not specifics. Seeing this, the girl was puzzled. His attitude suggested either giving up as too weak or confidence as too strong, uncaring about teammates. Not the latter... right? Sweat beaded on her forehead, her expression tense. From what she knew, Wu Jin was useless, his S Class status a mystery. But could S Class rely on connections? Maybe he was S Class' trump card, with a killer move? She was half-right—wrong process, right outcome. The match began, teams clashing. Unsure of Wu Jin’s ability, the girl held back, not using hers. Wu Jin had no such qualms. He combed his bangs back, revealing a stunningly perfect face. His eyes glowed pink, pupils heart-shaped. Everyone seeing him, male or female, fell into a trance, unprepared to resist with Mental Energy, fully captivated. “...Enough, stop your ability. Wu Jin wins,” the examiner announced after a minute. His expression was complex, matching his mood. He hadn’t expected Wu Jin’s ability—even he, watching peripherally, was affected briefly. Thankfully, his strength and anti-control item spared him embarrassment. Controlling him, even momentarily, showed Wu Jin’s power. He glanced at Wu Jin, bangs back down, and the dazed double-ponytail, asking softly: “Will this affect Zhang Helan? When will she recover?” “She’ll recover soon but lose memories of being controlled,” Wu Jin replied. “Please explain to her later, Teacher.” The examiner nodded, relieved: “Of course. Her amnesia saves me a confidentiality agreement.” Wu Jin’s ability was secret, a potential secret weapon for the three-school competition. In those seconds, the examiner envisioned rivals succumbing to Wu Jin’s charm, failing spectacularly. Such an ability couldn’t leak before the competition—losing surprise would lessen its impact. “By the way, what’s your ability?” he asked, curious. Never knowing the principal’s ability, sealed away, learning his son’s was a bonus. Though he couldn’t gossip about it, satisfying curiosity was enough. Wu Jin didn’t hide—it’d be known eventually: “[Succubus].” [Succubus]? As an experienced teacher, he’d heard of it, though never seen it. Among rare bloodline abilities, [Succubus] was rarer, noted in few texts. Its frequent depiction in manga and novels drove interest, often with biased views. But the examiner, truly knowledgeable, showed no bias: “Impressive. You’ll shine in the competition.” Wu Jin’s performance convinced him—he was certain to qualify. “Thank you, Teacher,” Wu Jin said quietly, bangs down, reverting to his reserved self. Seeing this, the examiner paused, saying before Wu Jin left: “I hope one day you won’t need to hide your face.” Wu Jin looked up, gray eyes steady: “That day will come.”