Standing closest to the freshman dorms were the newcomers of this year’s intake, led by the boy in the white headband. Facing them was the opposing faction: the senior students.

  To be precise, they were second-year students. In Glory Academy, it was considered beneath the dignity of a third-year to participate in such petty extortion; they would be the laughingstock of the campus if they did.

  The leader of the seniors wore a metallic mask, and his peers addressed him as Ghostface. He stepped forward from the crowd, his expression hidden behind the cold steel.

  Ghostface cleared his throat and spoke in a measured, condescending tone. "You all should be aware of the traditions here at Glory Academy. Freshmen are expected to pay a portion of their points to their seniors as a form of 'supplementary tuition.'"

  "And the specific amount," he continued, "will be determined by the total number of freshmen this year."

  The boy in the white headband cut him off, his voice cold and loud. "I’ve never heard of such a rule before I came to Glory Academy."

  "Of course you haven't. This is your very first lesson," Ghostface sneered. "And that lesson is: respect those more powerful than you."

  "According to your logic, if we are more powerful than you, does that mean you have to give us your points?" the white-headband boy shot back.

  "Admirable courage. Indeed, that is the rule." Ghostface gave a dismissive snort. "Send out your representatives for a best-of-three duel. If you win, you keep your points. If you lose, today's payment doubles. Furthermore, for the rest of the year, you must forfeit thirty percent of every point you earn as a contribution to us."

  He looked at the crowd of newcomers, his eyes mocking. "Well? Do you dare?"

  Do they dare?

  The question hung heavy in the air, silencing the freshmen. Glory Academy’s resources were top-tier, which was why people fought tooth and nail to get in. But these seniors had an extra year of training, missions, and combat experience under their belts. Their levels, their skills, and their battle awareness were leagues beyond the freshmen.

  Winning was statistically impossible. And by demanding a best-of-three, the seniors had effectively guaranteed their victory. Even if the freshmen had one rare genius who could win a match, finding two was another story.

  "What do we do? We can't beat the seniors... maybe we should just pay." "Yeah, if we lose, the penalty is double." "It's not just double—thirty percent for the whole year? That’s brutal." "I knew it. It’s a tradition for a reason. You can't just talk your way out of it."

  The freshmen's courage withered. They huddled together, whispering in fear. Morale hit rock bottom in an instant.

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  "Stand tall, damn it!" the white-headband boy shouted, but his words fell on deaf ears.

  "Hmph. A pack of cowards," Ghostface said contemptuously. "But perhaps it's for the best. On the battlefield, it’s always the ones who stick their necks out who die first."

  "Pah!"

  Suddenly, a sound of pure disdain rang out.

  "Who said that?" Ghostface barked, his authority challenged.

  "Me. Honestly, I can't stand watching you lot bully people just because you’ve spent an extra year idling in the academy," a voice replied. It was Chi Yongqiu.

  "Heh, glad to see someone else feels the same way." Another figure stepped out from the freshman crowd—Ke Minglang.

  "Yo, nice saber." "Yo, nice sword."

  The two looked at each other, their eyes immediately landing on the weapons at their respective waists. They looked strikingly familiar.

  "Wait, you also went to—" they began in unison.

  "Shut up!" Ghostface roared, feeling ignored. He turned back to the white-headband boy. "Well? Have you decided to accept the challenge?"

  "Brother, you good to go?" Chi Yongqiu asked Ke Minglang.

  "I’ve been itching to wipe those smirks off their faces. Do they really think being a year older makes them gods?" Ke Minglang replied without a second thought.

  "Brothers!" Chi Yongqiu turned to face the freshmen, effectively stealing the leadership role from the white-headband boy. "Are you willing to be trampled upon?"

  "Are you willing to hand over the points you worked so hard for?" Ke Minglang chimed in immediately.

  "Do you want your dream academy life to start with being extorted by these thugs?" "Are you really going to roll over without a fight?"

  The questions echoed through the plaza. The boy in the white headband clenched his teeth and let out a roar: "NO!"

  That cry was the spark that lit the powder keg. The freshmen’s pent-up frustration exploded. "NO!" "WE ARE NOT WILLING!"

  "Good. We accept your challenge, second-years," Chi Yongqiu turned back to Ghostface, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

  "Freshman, Ke Minglang, reporting for duty!" "Freshman, Chi Yongqiu, reporting for duty!" "Freshman, Bai Fengyun, reporting for duty!" This last one came from the white-headband boy. His name was Bai Fengyun.

  "Good, very good. It’s been years since we had freshmen with enough spine to fight back," Ghostface laughed, a metallic, grating sound behind his mask. "Second-years! The juniors have accepted. What is our response?"

  "Teach them a lesson! Show them the rules of Glory Academy!" the seniors roared, their collective aura shaking the air.

  Two male students stepped forward to stand on either side of Ghostface. They cupped their fists toward the three freshmen.

  "Mo Hei, challenge accepted," said a dark-skinned student, built like a towering iron pagoda. His voice was deep and rumbling.

  "Mo Bai, challenge accepted," said a pale, slender student who looked as graceful as a willow branch. His voice was soft and airy.

  "Ghostface, challenge accepted," the leader added mockingly. "I only hope you don't regret this. You brought this on yourselves. That thirty percent is as good as ours."

  "We'll see about that." Chi Yongqiu pressed his hands down, and the roaring freshmen instantly fell silent. It was a display of natural presence and authority.

  "Tch." Ghostface waved his hand. The second-year students pulled back, clearing a large space in the center of the plaza for the duel.

  "Mo Hei, you're up first."

  "With pleasure." Mo Hei stepped forward with a cruel grin. Each step seemed to make the ground tremble. He stared at the three freshmen and snarled, "Come on then. Who wants to be the first to die?"

  His overwhelming pressure sent a shiver through the freshmen. Is this the power of a second-year? He was only a year ahead, yet he felt like a mountain. His aura suggested he was at least Level 25, and his Brave-rank skills were still a total mystery.