Chapter 19: Combat Selection Begins
The atmosphere changed the moment the third test ended.
Medical teams dragged the injured away. The ground was cleaned, but the smell of blood remained. No one joked anymore. No one whispered.
Everyone understood now.
This was no longer an exam.
This was a selection.
A cold mechanical voice echoed across the arena.
"Combat Selection will now begin."
"Matches are not limited by rules."
"Surrender is allowed."
"Death is… acceptable."
A ripple of fear spread through the crowd.
Lin Yan's fingers tightened.
The Combat Arena
The candidates were divided into groups of two.
Random matches.
No mercy.
Those who won advanced. Those who lost were eliminated. If they were lucky, they would walk away alive.
Lin Yan stepped onto the arena floor.
Across from him stood his opponent.
A tall young man wearing black combat robes, his posture relaxed, eyes sharp and confident. A silver emblem was stitched onto his chest.
Someone in the crowd whispered in shock.
"That's Wei Zhen…" "The genius from the Thunder Pulse Family." "He reached Mid Ki Stage last year!"
Wei Zhen smiled faintly when he saw Lin Yan.
"You're the one who punched nearly three thousand," he said casually. "Interesting."
Lin Yan scratched his head awkwardly. "Ah… I slipped."
Wei Zhen laughed softly. "Try not to slip too hard. I don't like killing weak opponents."
The referee raised a hand.
"Begin."
The First Exchange
Wei Zhen moved first.
Lightning crackled around his legs as he vanished from sight.
Too fast.
Several candidates gasped.
Lin Yan's pupils shrank.
Star.
"Reaction window: 0.18 seconds," Star said calmly.
"Recommended response: minimal movement."
Lin Yan shifted his foot half an inch.
Wei Zhen's strike missed his throat by a hair's breadth, tearing the air behind him.
The arena exploded with noise.
"He dodged that?!"
"No way!"
Lin Yan staggered back intentionally, breathing hard, pretending panic.
Inside, his heart was calm.
Controlled Power
Wei Zhen frowned.
He attacked again—faster, heavier, thunder roaring with each strike. The ground cracked. Sparks flew.
Lin Yan retreated, blocked, stumbled.
Every move looked messy.
But every strike missed his vitals.
Every step landed exactly where it needed to.
Star whispered constantly.
"Left rib—fatal."
"Drop level—ankle break risk."
"Now."
Lin Yan countered.
A simple punch.
No lightning. No glow.
Wei Zhen raised his guard confidently—
—and was sent sliding backward across the arena, boots carving trenches into stone.
Silence.
Wei Zhen coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
His smile was gone.
"…You were holding back."
Lin Yan rubbed his knuckles. "I told you. I slip a lot."
Death Is Close
Wei Zhen's aura exploded.
"I don't lose," he said coldly. "Especially not here."
Thunder gathered above him.
The referee hesitated.
This level of power could kill.
Around them, candidates watched with pale faces. Some stepped back instinctively.
Star spoke urgently.
"Warning. Next attack: lethal probability 87%."
Lin Yan exhaled slowly.
He adjusted his stance.
Not aggressive.
Not weak.
Just enough.
Wei Zhen lunged.
Lin Yan stepped inside the attack.
A short strike.
A precise angle.
Wei Zhen froze.
Then collapsed.
Unconscious.
The thunder dispersed.
The referee stared, stunned—then raised his hand.
"Winner… Lin Yan."
The arena erupted.
"Who is he?!"
"He beat Wei Zhen without martial techniques!"
"That wasn't luck!"
Lin Yan stood quietly, heart pounding.
He looked down at his hands.
I'm still hiding, he realized.
And it's already this dangerous.
As medical teams rushed in, Star spoke softly.
"Master… this was only the beginning."
Lin Yan nodded.
The scholarship exam was trying to kill them.
And tomorrow—
it would try even harder.