Chapter 82: Farming Points

“Tsk, tsk. Colonel, even the Serpent King’s secretary holds such rank. The Serpent King must be a general—maybe even a lieutenant general or a full general.”

“That’s perfectly normal—if anything, it’s a little low.” Fang Qingyun cast Zhao Junhong a sidelong glance. “On the battlefield, earning military merit isn’t all that hard, as long as you have the courage to kill.”

Among the human race, military merit was rewarded above all else.

As long as you truly killed the enemy, you never had to worry about rising in rank.

Watching Zhu Yao’s retreating figure, Zhao Junhong suggested, “How about we take on a major mission?”

They had just dealt with eight half-demons in what seemed like a measured exchange, but in truth, neither of them had exerted themselves.

Zhao Junhong had merely brandished his broadsword a few times.

He hadn’t activated his special physique, nor used any martial techniques.

Fang Qingyun had done the same—just a few shots from afar.

At present, his close-combat skills were the strongest part of his abilities.

If they had truly wanted to wipe out those demons, a direct assault would have finished them in a couple of moves.

“Sure!” Fang Qingyun chuckled. “There’s something at the points exchange I’ve been eyeing for a while. But it needs a lot of points.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

The two headed to the missions office together.

Their lives had already fallen into a set pattern.

Taking missions.

Attending their instructor’s lectures.

Exchanging points for martial techniques.

Cultivating.

And then, taking on missions again.

One cycle after another.

Barring the unexpected, this would be their routine for the next half year—until they fully adapted to the slaughter. Only then might they be sent to the front lines.

“Well, well, the two rookie kings are here for another mission?” At the assignments desk, a strikingly beautiful female student’s eyes lit up when she saw them, teasing as she spoke.

“Heh, good afternoon, Senior!” Zhao Junhong winked and made faces at her, deliberately emphasizing the title.

The young woman blushed, shooting him a fierce glare that was nonetheless tinged with charm.

Fang Qingyun could only shake his head, speechless.

From the looks of it, he’d never believe for a second that nothing was going on between those two.

Despite Zhu Yao’s relentless training schedule, with barely any free time, Zhao Junhong still managed to strike up a flirtation?

In this regard, he was clearly better than Fang Qingyun.

As for the title “rookie king”—

They had been here for two weeks. During that time, all the other new students had arrived.

The Northwest Military Academy had recruited more than a thousand students this year.

Among them were some with outstanding strength and astonishing talent.

Yet, compared to Fang Qingyun and Zhao Junhong, the others were nowhere close.

Not everyone could defeat a third-tier martial artist upon entering the academy.

Both of them had managed it.

And both had done so with ease—enough to be counted as elites among intermediate martial artists.

Even Fang Qingyun was surprised by this.

He owed his strength to his formidable physique, nearly at the level of a ninth-tier martial artist. But what about Zhao Junhong? Had his spiritual power already reached the fourth tier, or even higher?

Whenever he asked, Zhao Junhong would fall uncharacteristically silent.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk, but rather that he was grieving.

If Fang Qingyun was often considered brash, then Zhao Junhong was the carefree one.

Grief?

It was hard to imagine such an emotion surfacing in Zhao Junhong.

So Fang Qingyun stopped asking.

But the title of rookie king was recognized by nearly all the new students.

Those who didn’t acknowledge it were soon taught a lesson by the two of them personally.

It wasn’t about the titles.

The Northwest Military Academy was a place where only the strong survived. Every year, students were ranked, and those at the top received rewards.

First and second place got the most, so even if they didn’t want to compete, they had to.

“Xiao Li, got any missions suitable for your big brother?”

“You’re the little one, you’re the little brother. Call me Senior.” The young woman snorted, grinning at Zhao Junhong.

He winked again. “Sister.”

Her blush deepened, and who knows what crossed her mind.

Fang Qingyun was even more exasperated.

Maybe he should just book them a room and handle the assignment desk himself, let them cool off for a while.

“Ahem!”

A bespectacled female student walked over, glaring fiercely at the other girl. “Zhang Mei, do you need some time off?”

“No need!” The girl immediately straightened her expression and addressed Zhao Junhong briskly, “Are you here to submit a mission or take a new one?”

“Both!”

With his paramour’s boss present, Zhao Junhong became more serious, giving Fang Qingyun a meaningful look.

His friend immediately understood, glanced at the woman with glasses, and decisively shook his head.

This woman was strikingly beautiful, tall, and well-proportioned.

She had a refined aura.

The glasses only added to her intellectual allure.

But one look told you she was not someone to trifle with.

Just like Murong.

A woman like this was better left unprovoked.

Moreover, Fang Qingyun could sense a heavy pressure emanating from her.

She might very well be a high-tier martial artist.

She didn’t look a day over twenty-five or twenty-six.

Truly, the Northwest Military Academy was full of prodigies.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly, Fang Qingyun uttered a surprised sound, his gaze fixed on a mission in astonishment.

The task was to hunt down a human traitor.

Such assignments were rare; they were usually posted in the high-level task area upstairs, not among the lower-level jobs.

Fang Qingyun looked up.

Above his head, a towering mountain pierced the clouds—a place only birds and the strong could reach.

The mission area was divided into two sections, high and low.

Lower-level missions were posted downstairs; high-level ones were upstairs, atop that mountain.

Even from below, you could feel the powerful aura radiating from above.

Fang Qingyun could also sense several watchful eyes fixed on him.

As the new rookie king, he and Zhao Junhong were attracting plenty of attention.

He tore his gaze away and looked back at the mission.

Unfortunately, he and Zhao Junhong couldn’t take it.

It was a Class B mission.

Despite their recent stellar performance—earning points like mad—they still had only Class C clearance.

But compared to the other students, who were still at Class D, they were far ahead.

If anyone advanced to Class C within three months, they’d be considered extraordinarily powerful.

The woman with glasses followed Fang Qingyun’s gaze and saw the mission. She said calmly, “You can’t take that mission. It’s not just your rank—you couldn’t take it even if you qualified.”

“Why not?”

She adjusted her glasses, silent.

“Tch!” Fang Qingyun sneered. “If I had the clearance, I’d take it.”

Her tone remained flat. “That’s suicide. Do you know who he is?”

“Hmph. Pointless argument.”

They couldn’t take the mission anyway, so there was no use discussing it. Fang Qingyun snatched up a bandit-suppression mission and turned to leave.

Zhao Junhong smiled at the bespectacled woman, whispered something in Zhang Mei’s ear, leaving her blushing and bashful as he strode away.

But the woman with glasses watched Fang Qingyun’s departing figure intently.

“What is it?” Zhang Mei grinned. “Has he caught your eye?”

The woman snorted. “We’re nowhere near that. I’m just interested. Is that the top rookie this year?”

“That’s right. There are two rookie kings—Zhao Junhong is second, Fang Qingyun is first. Even if the third through tenth place rookies teamed up, they couldn’t beat those two.”

The bespectacled woman nodded. “Their combat strength really is impressive.”

Even with her skill, she could feel the tremendous pressure standing in front of Fang Qingyun.

He was like a beast, ready to strike at any moment.

“I hear Fang Qingyun’s specialty is long-range sniping—his maximum range is now five hundred meters.”

That meant he could take down a fleeing target within five hundred meters.

A martial artist’s opponent was never a stationary target, but a moving one.

“Impressive,” the woman murmured, her eyes showing a flicker of shock. “Such a person, once on the battlefield, will be a scourge to the enemy—a blessing for humanity.”

A powerful sniper was incredibly valuable in combat.

With someone like that around, the enemy’s senior officers might not be afraid, but mid- and low-level officers would be terrified.

Mid- and low-level officers were indispensable to any army; without them, high-ranking officers couldn’t command at all.

Moreover, a top sniper could also inflict significant casualties among the enemy’s ordinary soldiers.

The Serpent King had such a sniper under his command.

According to records, in a single great battle, he killed thirteen low-level officers, four mid-level officers, and 370 ordinary soldiers.

Even an ordinary division of ten thousand couldn’t inflict such damage.

“So?” Zhang Mei grinned. “Want me to introduce you?”

The woman looked at her. “You’re with Zhao Junhong now? Aren’t you worried?”

“Worried about what?” Zhang Mei shrugged indifferently. “I never had high hopes to begin with. I’ll get what resources I can from him. Of course, if something lasting comes of it, even better.”

“He knows what I mean.”

“Sigh.”

The woman didn’t look down on her—she just sighed softly.

Ordinary people envied martial artists, desperate to become one themselves. But they didn’t realize that life for rank-and-file martial artists was even harder.

They had to do whatever it took to acquire resources—or risk dying on the battlefield.

Especially in recent years, the demon and beast clans, whether by chance or design, seemed to be joining forces against humanity in battle.

Of the three races, humans were the weakest.

If not for the internal strife between the beast and demon clans all those years ago, if their own factions hadn’t been unstable, humanity would never have changed its fate as prey.

Given these trends, the demands placed on martial artists by human leadership only grew stricter.

Before, many martial artists were left alone by the upper echelons. Now, a significant number were required to complete regular assignments or provide other support for humanity.

At some point, a rumor began to circulate that the human leadership would soon mandate every martial artist to provide some form of monthly support. At the very least, they’d be required to join temporary battle squads for military training, ready to be deployed at any moment.

For many martial artists, this was little short of a death sentence.

How many had become martial artists just to prolong their lives?

Most were wealthy businessmen—fat and pampered. For them, the battlefield meant certain death.

The woman took a deep breath and said solemnly, “Take care of yourself. As for me, I’m going out for a bit.”

“You—!”

Zhang Mei was startled. “Miss Long Xiye, with your status, why put yourself on the front lines?”

“That’s enough,” Long Xiye calmly replied, pushing up her glasses. “I hear the Serpent King is under tremendous pressure. At a time like this, any support is worthwhile. I am, after all, a high-tier martial artist.”

Zhang Mei opened her mouth in surprise.

The Serpent King had hundreds of officer-level martial artists under his command. As for high-tier ones—how many was that, again?

But she knew the woman before her well. Once she made a decision, she would see it through.

Long Xiye glanced at the mission board, tore down a hunting mission near the front lines, and walked away.

Zhang Mei sighed softly.

Was this reluctance?

Low-level martial artists had their own helplessness.

So did those in the middle ranks.

And the high ranks, perhaps, had their own burdens too.

…

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Zhao Junhong caught up to Fang Qingyun in a few quick strides, grinning. “You’re not usually this irritable. What’s up today?”

“I’ve just got something on my mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Fang Qingyun grew serious. “Haven’t you noticed? There are more missions on the board than usual. Many are near the front lines, and there are a lot more supply transport assignments.”

Zhao Junhong’s expression changed. “You think the front—”

“It won’t collapse, but the pressure must be intense.” Fang Qingyun sighed. “That’s why we need to complete as many missions as possible—especially those related to the front, even if it’s just transporting supplies. And we need to improve ourselves as much as we can. The boar demon said we’d be sent to the battlefield within six months, but I suspect it’ll be sooner.”

“What a pain,” Zhao Junhong muttered, but he didn’t disagree.

And so, the two began their quest to rack up points.

The mission this time was to clear out a bandit gang.

Zhao Junhong was stunned.

For it was his first time witnessing Fang Qingyun in full berserk fury.

That bloodstained broadsword—Fang Qingyun had given it to Zhao Junhong.

It was a custom weapon, formidable enough to be rated at level four.

Of course, it had been tailored for Murong; in Zhao Junhong’s hands, it was just a standard level four weapon.

Fang Qingyun, meanwhile, picked up a level-one greatsword.

Long and thick.

Thick and black.

With his immense strength, every swing of the blade cracked the air, sending shivers down Zhao Junhong’s spine.

One hit from that, and you’d be a pancake.

After three days of searching, they finally tracked down the bandits.

They were besieging several transport wagons.

Without a word, Fang Qingyun charged in, greatsword in hand.

“A sniper—” Zhao Junhong began, but Fang Qingyun was already gone. He had no choice but to follow.

Then, as Fang Qingyun reached the fray, he brought his sword down in a brutal arc.

“Where’s this little brat come from?” the bandit leader cursed, his eyes fierce.

He’d been startled, thinking reinforcements had arrived—only to see two boys.

Well, then—they’d just rob them instead. Judging from their attire, they must be carrying good stuff.

That thought ended abruptly.

Fang Qingyun’s sword split him cleanly in two.

The heavy blade crashed into the earth with a thunderous boom.

A deep pit appeared.

The bandits around them were stunned.

That enormous black sword, the quaking ground, their slain companion—every detail sent chills down their spines.

“Damn you all—die!” Fang Qingyun roared, unleashing his full fury.