Chapter 10: The Duel

"System!" Fang Qingyun called out to the system.

He had received two balls of light; with these things appearing in his palm, perhaps the system would also change.

Sure enough!

[Host: Fang Qingyun]
[Strength: 7]
[Speed: 7]
[Constitution: 10]
[Spirit: 7]
[Spiritual Power: 2]
[Skill: Shooting (Beginner)]
[Skill: Blade Technique (Beginner)]
[Origin Points: 654]

Not only had a new attribute for spiritual power appeared, but there were also two new skills: shooting and blade technique.

No wonder the feeling while slashing and shooting just now was completely different from before. Especially shooting—the change was the most pronounced.

Fang Qingyun glanced at where the duck had been shot. The duck's appendage was already long, nearly as long as its body. Ordinary ducks had several dozen centimeters, but these three demonic ducks—the smallest was three meters tall, the largest over five meters. That appendage was practically a giant.

When fighting, there was hardly any need to aim.

However, if you looked at Fang Qingyun's two shots just now, you would notice the difference.

Both shots targeted the same spot, hitting the weakest part of that segment. Two shots nearly broke it off, causing the duck such pain it almost went mad.

This was a level Fang Qingyun had never reached before.

He had often practiced blade technique and shooting, and combined with the improvement of his attributes, it seemed this was a promotion.

"Without realizing it, have my shooting skills already reached the level of a king?"

Fang Qingyun laughed to himself; it was probably only the king among ordinary people.

For martial artists, the firearms they used—even the bullets—were of the treasure grade, requiring spiritual power to activate. Ordinary people couldn't use them.

As for spiritual power...

He truly didn't understand it.

Fang Qingyun took out the note Old Li had secretly slipped him.

The first sentence left Fang Qingyun speechless.

...In the secret realm, there are half-demon, half-devil beings. Remember, do not hunt them.

"I killed two already, and now you say this—what a belated warning."

"Don't tell me I opened it late; why didn't you tell me before we set out?"

Sneaking the note during their farewell? Playing at romance?

...If you've killed them, don't panic at any changes that occur—that is the reward for hunting demons.

Reward?

Fang Qingyun rubbed his eyes, almost doubting what he saw.

At first, he was told not to hunt them, then later it's said to be a reward for hunting demons.

Truly playing games.

From Old Li's hurried handwriting, it was clear he wrote this note under great time pressure.

"Could it be he didn't bet on me at first, then saw my changes and changed his mind at the last minute?"

...

At that moment, in the school's surveillance room.

Old Li paced anxiously, eyes wide as he stared at the screen.

The images were fragmented.

With so many students and cameras densely packed, they could capture about a third of the students.

With such numbers, even a martial artist's eyesight would feel strained after a while.

Yet Old Li kept his eyes wide open, searching one by one.

It wasn't only the students preparing for the college entrance exam.

As a teacher, he had prepared even longer than the students.

The students prepared for their own lives; the teacher prepared for all the students' lives.

Yet, a loophole had appeared.

What was going on with Fang Qingyun?

He used to have a decent talent, but nothing extraordinary; today, he had suddenly exploded, catching Old Li completely off guard.

"That kid—preliminary martial artist strength, I can't be mistaken," Old Li muttered. "Kid, don't mess around in there; stay put. You have a chance to become a martial artist."

Old Li was restless.

Normally, there was no need to arrange much for Fang Qingyun; his everyday training and resources, combined with his innate talent, gave him more than a fifty percent chance of becoming a martial artist.

Yet, he had changed suddenly.

Seeing him for the first time this morning, Old Li was startled.

That sharp aura emanating from him was clearly that of a preliminary martial artist.

Not much worse than Old Li himself when he passed the college entrance exam years ago.

With such strength, would he behave inside?

If he started killing indiscriminately...

Heavens!

Old Li could hardly imagine.

"Hey, Old Li, what are you thinking about?" That chubby teacher came over again.

"Wang Fatty, get lost, I'm annoyed!" Old Li's words were full of impatience.

"Haha, you're like this every year," Wang Fatty sneered, curling his lip. "Does it help? The ones destined to die will still die—talent is innate."

Old Li's face darkened, staring coldly at Wang Fatty. "Wang Fatty, are you deliberately looking for trouble?"

Wang Fatty chuckled lowly, his gaze flickering with cold light. "What? Did I hit a sore spot? Well, back then—"

"You're asking for it!"

Old Li swung a fist.

His punch was like a mountain, rumbling loudly.

"Bang!"

Wang Fatty was not to be outdone—he threw his own punch.

The fists collided, exploding in a thunderous boom.

The entire surveillance room trembled under the clash of two martial artists.

"What are you doing?" The principal turned, looking at them coldly. "Too much energy, is it? Then go to the battlefield, go kill demons."

"Hmph!" The two snorted, still eyeing each other warily.

The principal raised his brows, speaking coolly, "Do you want to enter the battlefield, step into the arena, or gamble on a duel?"

Hearing the word 'gamble,' the surrounding teachers all turned to watch, their expressions amused.

The two involved looked stiff.

Since this principal arrived, the most headache-inducing words in school: gamble!

Win—and you'd be overjoyed.

Lose—and the pain cut to the bone.

He used this method to resolve conflicts between teachers, and between martial artists.

The results were remarkable.

"Since you two are so energetic, let's do it this way!" The principal looked coldly at the two teachers. "Today is the college entrance exam; you'll bet on your two classes—which produces the most martial artists."

The two trembled as they looked at the principal. "The stakes are..."

The principal looked at Old Li, saying calmly, "Old Li, I recall you have a grade-four gun."

Old Li clutched his chest.

Wang Fatty's expression changed drastically.

That gun was Old Li's treasure, regarded as his second life.

The principal wanted him to put it up as a bet—what about Wang Fatty?

Sure enough!

The principal turned his gaze to Wang Fatty. "Wang Fatty, I recall you possess a set of grade-five soft armor."

Wang Fatty's fat shook.

The other teachers looked at them with sympathetic eyes.

This was betting half their lives on the duel.

If they won, they'd gain greatly; lose, and it would be as if they'd died.

The key was—who could guarantee which students would become martial artists?

Many noble children received the best education and resources since childhood, were highly favored, yet at the final step, failed to cross the threshold.

Advancing to martial artist—it depended a lot on luck.

"N-no need, surely!" Wang Fatty's lips trembled as he looked at Old Li. "We two brothers are just playing around!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Old Li nodded so fast it was almost a blur.

"We're good brothers, brothers in life and death—we were just playing, I don't even like Wang Fatty's armor."

The other teachers laughed at them.

Betting their treasures on a fifty percent chance—enough to make anyone's scalp tingle.

The principal couldn't even be bothered to look at them, saying coolly, "It's settled. There are people from above here today; don't embarrass me. Bring out the stakes; the winner takes both."

And so, the two teachers, already full of expectation for the martial artists their classes might produce, now silently blessed their students.

Best of all, the number of martial artists in a class might reach double digits.

For such a record-breaking feat, both teachers believed their own students could achieve it.