Time flew by—three days later.
On the highway in Southvale Province.
A dust-covered silver car sped along the road, maintaining a steady, normal speed. It never overtook or accelerated, quietly heading toward Greenfield City.
In the driver's seat sat a young man in a navy blue short-sleeve shirt.
His eyes held a calm, thoughtful gaze fixed straight ahead, his hands relaxed on the wheel. Every part of him radiated a sense of ease—it was Andrew Han.
Since that dawn when he killed the General-class fox demon, Miles Ning erased every trace and spent days around Riverdale subjecting him to brutal training—any carelessness earned a fierce beating. But there was comfort in one thing: the aftermath was handled.
Miles Ning personally intervened, suppressing the incident's impact.
In truth, the annihilation of a newly built township was an extremely serious event. Every cause and detail should have been recorded without omission—nothing could be hidden.
If not for his Master’s intervention,
He could never have evaded the Martial Arts World’s investigation!
Some Demons possess mind-bewitching abilities, and in the Martial Arts World there are experts skilled in hypnosis and illusion. If he truly underwent investigation, the truth of a First Rank killing a General-class would inevitably be exposed.
"Mm."
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the white fox demon wasn’t as crippled as Master claimed—barely ten percent of its strength remaining. These doubts stayed locked inside; he dared not voice them.
After Miles Ning’s rebuke, he understood.
Anywhere with electronic devices can’t be truly secret, so some thoughts must remain unspoken, turning them over only in his mind. Muttering aloud is the mark of a fool.
Idle muttering—who’s it for, anyway?
Martial practitioners who do this either lack psychological resilience or are simply chatterboxes.
Besides, advancing to Martial Artist will still take some time.
His current fusion was just past sixty percent—still far from complete. He would need to rely on Stance Training to further blend his blood-energy and internal strength. Andrew squinted, glancing at a large freight truck overtaking him on the right.
Even the freight trucks were faster than him.
Still, he wasn’t in a hurry, completely at ease. He’d already skipped three days of classes—arriving late didn’t matter. Besides, Carter Yan was only arriving today.
Andrew had just called Kevin Lin.
Not only was his martial instructor, Carter Yan, arriving, but today was also the Martial Arts Program’s entrance sparring match. Right now, the Athletics Hall at Greenfield University was likely hosting the bouts, with victory decided on the spot and the stands packed with students.
But unfortunately,
Andrew no longer felt any excitement.
When he first received his admission notice, he’d thought he must win first place in the entrance sparring.
Glancing at the rearview mirror, Andrew floored the accelerator and turned the wheel right. "But after everything I’ve been through, should I go spar against Upper Three Ranks students? I’d rather practice Stance Training in the dorm than join the entrance match."
Winning first place in sparring was meaningless.
The real stage would be the Martial Arts Program Student Ranking Battle three months from now.
Miles Ning had told him to aim for the top three, but Andrew wondered if he could take first place… So this return to campus was a chance to assess the other students’ realms and abilities.
As for the consequences of skipping class, Andrew felt nothing at all.
Maybe it was because he’d glimpsed a much vaster world—his horizons broadened, and he no longer cared about trivial matters that could go either way.
Strength was the true foundation of everything.
Lost in thought, Andrew shifted in his seat and touched his right ribs... then floored the accelerator, letting the car roar as it sped up and began overtaking others on the way to Greenfield City.
Whoosh, whoosh.
One car after another fell behind.
The scenery on both sides shifted from endless highway vistas to the city’s edge, where buildings began to appear.
......
Greenfield City, Greenfield University.
The two-story Athletics Hall was built of dark gray marble, exuding elegance and solemnity. Inside, students sat with faces flushed with excitement.
"Wow, his punch seems to make the air whistle!"
"All our Martial Arts Program Students are at least Third Rank or above. A punch with wind is nothing—I saw a student last year crack the marble floor with one stomp."
"Really that strong? That’s amazing."
"Yeah, if only I had a Martial Arts Program boyfriend, that’d be perfect."
Most of the spectators were girls; there weren’t many boys. After all, seeing martial students so much stronger than themselves was a blow to the ego.
Third row of the left-side stands.
A beautiful girl with long, slender legs parted her lips slightly, watching the fight in the ring with rapt attention.
She was Monica Zhang’s roommate, Vivian Xu.
Ah!
At a tense moment, she grabbed Monica’s fair arm. "Why do you seem so distracted?"
Such a fierce sparring match—how thrilling to watch.
During a break after the outcome was decided, Vivian Xu wiped her nervous sweat and asked, "You keep looking around—are you searching for someone?"
"Yeah, Andrew isn’t here." Monica Zhang sounded a little disappointed.
"Your old high school classmate? Maybe he’s not feeling well and skipped it," Vivian offered lightly. "Why not call him and ask what he’s up to?"
Through these casual chats, Vivian had learned Andrew’s name.
But to miss such an important Martial Arts Program entrance match!
Could it be that Andrew was worried he couldn’t beat his fellow students, so he pretended to be sick and skipped it… Vivian blinked, unwilling to dwell further.
Poor Monica, her taste in guys might be a little off.
"Monica, stop looking for him."
Vivian tugged Monica’s denim sleeve, giggling, "Look at Kevin Lin in the ring—he’s so dominant, no one can last a round against him."
"Oh." Monica nodded.
A while later.
The match ended, and Kevin Lin was the clear winner.
"That Martial Arts Program Student, Kevin Lin, seems to have chosen Accounting too!" Vivian’s eyes sparkled as she touched her pretty face and smiled slyly. "He’s the only First Rank in our year."
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"What? I thought there weren’t any First Rank students this year," Monica asked, puzzled.
"You didn’t know? The school forum posted yesterday—Kevin Lin just advanced to First Rank a couple days ago. He’s a First Rank now," Vivian said, lips curling in a smile.
But—
Vivian found it odd; Kevin Lin didn’t look excited or happy. Instead, he glanced around as if searching for something, then walked off the stage looking a bit dejected.
Beside her, Monica was clutching her phone.
She sent two messages on QQ, attaching a picture of a cute white cat: "What are you up to? Haven’t seen you these past two days—aren’t you on campus?"
A few seconds passed.
Andrew replied: "I’m driving, just passed the highway toll station."
Ah!
He’s on the highway?
Monica’s mind exploded—she felt like a cat startled into dropping its treat in a cornfield. Her creamy-white fingers flew over the keyboard: "Drive safely, don’t use your phone!"
She reconsidered and deleted the message.
If she kept messaging, she’d only distract him.
After a moment’s hesitation, Monica decided not to reply. Hand in hand with Vivian, she left the Athletics Hall after the entrance sparring ended.
They had no idea.
In fact, Andrew could have made it to the entrance sparring if he’d driven at full speed. But he chose not to—his fused power had just condensed into a mist-like state, containing overwhelming force, and he still needed days to master it.
For daily life, it was no problem.
But if he sparred with the frail Upper Three Ranks, a slip in control could kill someone on the spot—or even obliterate them entirely.
......
Meanwhile, in Riverdale City.
Miles Ning stood in a grove in his neighborhood, his wrinkled old face wearing a faint smile. He gazed at the cloudless sky for a long moment before lowering his eyes.
"How much strength did that Lower General-class demon really have left?"
"I don’t know, nobody does. In any case, it’s been burned away. So when I say it only had ten percent of its power left, that’s the final answer."
He sighed softly.
For his first disciple, Andrew Han, Miles Ning was quite pleased. To show his satisfaction, he had put Andrew through three days of relentless tempering.
Most likely,
His ribs weren’t actually broken.
Miles Ning lit a cigarette. "Disciple, you mustn’t blame me. It’s just that your bones are too sturdy—I couldn’t help but smash you a bit… No, it’s like forging a sword. Only through tempering does the blade grow sharp. I was simply refining you with care."
Yes,
Just like a blacksmith forging iron.
Hiss.
Miles Ning took a drag, then dialed a number. "Xiao Yu, I recently took in a disciple with barely passable talent. I plan to have him inherit the sect’s honor. By the way, he’s studying in Greenfield City."
A hearty laugh came through the phone: "Haha, congratulations, Old Ning."
Miles Ning nodded. "Mm, my disciple is really quite weak, so frail a breeze could topple him. I’m a bit troubled as his master."
Oh?
A surprised voice replied, "Then how is he still alive?"
Hiss.
Miles Ning’s smoking paused abruptly; he tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Cough, cough, don’t mind me, Old Ning, just kidding," the deep male voice continued. "What’s his current level? If I have time, I can teach him how to use techniques, and maybe give him some higher-grade nutrient solution for his internal power."
He didn’t mention Inspiration.
Martial Arts has three realms: Internal Power and Technique are key, while Inspiration is a rare perceptive ability.
Miles Ning snorted softly, "My disciple’s martial strength is average, but he’s got one technique at a masterful level, and a touch of Inspiration, too."
Oh?
The man chuckled knowingly. "Old Ning, don’t set your standards too high. For someone at the Martial Artist level, that’s already pretty good."
Miles Ning replied mildly, "Oh, he’s First Rank."