The sun was setting low when Class 1-C finally composed themselves and started walking back to the dorms. The stadium still thundered behind them, a din of conversation, chants, and shuffling of thousands of unwilling-to-leave fans.
The air outside was fresh, with the faint scent of food vendors and smoke from the lanterns. Lian walked beside his peers, their words filling the still air around him. They were all discussing the marks, bragging about what their class had done, and already predicting what they would do tomorrow.
Everyone except Rui.
Lian glanced around more than a few times during the stroll, but Rui was nowhere in sight. Ever since the minute the match ended, Rui had vanished like smoke in the wind. No one dared to say it aloud—perhaps thinking he must have had his own reasons—but it stuck at the back of Lian's thoughts. Where did he go?
The suggestion lingered in his mind until they reached the gate of the academy. There, leaning against the gate with crossed arms, stood Instructor Liang.
"Lian." His voice echoed clearly above the students' chatter.
The crowd quieted slightly, some giving the instructor curious glances. Lian stepped forward hesitantly, not sure if he was going to be scolded or praised.
Rather, Liang smiled. "Congratulations on getting to the semifinals. Not many first-years have gotten this far."
Before Lian could answer, Liang pulled something from his coat pocket: a small, silver chip that glinted faintly under the lantern light. He held it out, and Lian instinctively took it with both hands.
"This contains the full recordings and data from last year's tournament," Liang explained. "Instructor Mei asked me to deliver it to you. Consider it her gift for reaching this stage."
Lian blinked, caught between surprise and gratitude. "Instructor Mei…?"
"She said you'd make better use of it than most." Liang's smile softened. "Study well. Tomorrow won't be easy. Good luck."
Without another word, he gave Lian a firm pat on the shoulder and walked past the group, leaving the first-years buzzing with speculation.
"Whoa, special treatment from Instructor Mei?" one muttered.
"Does that mean he's her favorite now?" another joked.
Normally, this would have led to Lian being dragged into the living room, forced to listen to theories, cheers, and good-natured teasing until he escaped. But tonight, he was too tired, and the weight of the chip in his hand pulled him toward solitude.
"I'm going to my room," he said quickly before they could grab him.
Some of his classmates tried to protest, but his face expression froze them. He fled, ascended the stairs, and locked his door.
The room was dark, only the dim light of his desk lamp lighting up the small room. Lian sat down, inserted the chip into his console, and waited for the files to be loaded.
Moments later, his screen filled with match records, energy readings, tactical analyses, and commentary transcripts.
He leaned forward, eyes sharp despite the fatigue dragging at his body. If this was Mei's gift, it meant she believed he could use it—that he should use it.
He scrolled through several files until one name froze him in place.
Yan Luo.
The defending champion.
Lian clicked on the file, and immediately the screen filled with footage.
He stood and saw Yan Luo enter the arena a year ago, easy stance, unreadable face. His opponent towered over him, muscles flexing with raw power. But at the conclusion of the fight, Yan Luo stood and darkness coiled like living strands around him, binding his opponent to the ground.
Lian shivered. He replayed it again, reliving the details. The shadows shifted, merged, snapped like whips, hardened like steel. They weren't optical illusions. They existed. They had substance. How could shadows ever become real?
He tried to read the flow of the Qi readings related to the footage, but the numbers didn't match. It was as if the system itself could not identify the way Yan Luo manipulated his energy. Half of the numbers were steady, illegible, the remainder fluctuated wildly.
The more he read, the more his head throbbed.
It doesn't add up. None of it adds up. How can I fight something that I cannot even understand?
His body trembled slightly, not out of fear but exhaustion. A numbing aching flowed through his muscles, his joints groaning with exhaustion. His body betrayed him, and no matter how much self-will he employed, he could not cover it up.
Finally, Lian sighed, shutting the console. He seized the little container of medicine on his shelf, swallowed several pills, and fell onto his bed.
The ceiling above him unfocused as tiredness dragged him down.
Tomorrow. Everything depended on tomorrow.
The next day flew by.
Noon. The arena flared into being once more.
Flags fluttered, voices roared, drums thrummed in rhythm as the crowd surged back full force, hungrier than before for the semifinals.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer's voice boomed, echoing across the dome. "Welcome back to the Hero Academy Tournament! The semifinals are now under way!"
The uproar reached fever pitch.
"And for our first game today… a struggle many of you have been waiting for! On one side—he made it to the finals last year, a third-year behemoth feared for his unmatched strength—Gao Ming!
A part of the crowd eruption, yelling his name as Gao Ming strode purposefully into the arena. His broad build appeared even broader under the sun at noon, every step weighted and powerful. Fists were clenched, eyes straight ahead.
"And on the other side!" the announcer continued, his voice nearly drowned out by clapping. "The pride of the second years, the class's most difficult student, renowned for her never-give-up attitude—Bai Xuan!
Behind the other gate, Bai Xuan emerged. She walked with deliberate purpose, every step certain, her posture upright. Her countenance was calm, but her eyes burned like flame, focusing at once upon Gao Ming as if everything else was banished from being.
The crowd burst apart, dividing between shouts of "Gao Ming!" and "Bai Xuan!" The atmosphere was electric, raw power bursting into being as the tension grew.
The two fighters reached the middle and stood side by side. Both of them had nothing to say. Neither averted his eyes.
The announcer grinned, savoring the mood.
"Two heroes of the Hero Course—one last year's runner-up, the other next generation's prodigy. Gao Ming against Bai Xuan! Who will win out and clinch the top position in the finals?"
The signal was given.
The battle was about to begin.