The dirt arena was no longer just a track for running. It was a combat zone.
Faculty members in grey uniforms marched through the open iron doors. They carried heavy canvas bags filled with crushed white chalk. They spread out across the massive dirt floor. They moved with strict military precision, pouring the white powder onto the ground. They drew ten massive, perfect circles in the dirt. These were the sparring rings. The boundaries were set.
Instructor Thorne stood next to the pile of grey iron weapons in the center of the room.
The weapons were dead. The edges were ground completely flat. The tips were rounded off to the size of a thumb. A dull sword cannot slice open a throat. A dull spear cannot pierce a lung.
But they were still made of solid, heavy metal. The physics did not change. If a heavy piece of iron hits a human ribcage at full speed, the ribs will still snap in half. The internal organs will still bruise and bleed. The damage was non-lethal, but the pain was absolutely real.
Thorne raised his hand.
"Matches one through ten," Thorne shouted. His deep command cut through the nervous whispers of the freshman class. "Step forward. Pick your tools. Enter your rings."
Twenty students broke away from the crowd of fifty. They were the first wave. They walked toward the center pile. Some hands shook with adrenaline. Others grabbed the iron eagerly.
Jin looked at the folded white paper in his hand. The black ink displayed a solid number eight. He was in the first batch.
He did not hesitate. He walked forward. He ignored the light daggers and the long spears. He reached into the pile and pulled out a heavy iron falchion. He tested the weight in his palm. It was a perfect match for the live steel he had been swinging for a week. He rested the heavy blade against his shoulder and walked toward the white chalk circle marked with an eight.
Another student stepped over the white chalk line from the opposite side of the ring.
Jin ran a rapid threat assessment.
The boy had bright blonde hair, perfectly combed back. He wore a custom-tailored white silk shirt under his dark academy jacket. The fabric was expensive. It was designed to breathe and stretch during combat. He stood with a loose, highly arrogant posture. He held a dull iron rapier in his right hand. He twirled the thin blade effortlessly, showing off his wrist flexibility to the crowd.
Jin focused his eyes. He checked the boy's Aether density.
The air around the blonde boy was thick and heavy. He was Foundation Level 9. They were exactly equal in raw cultivation rank.
But Jin knew ranks were just numbers on a ledger. The source of the power mattered more. The noble boy likely reached Level 9 by eating expensive medicinal pills and resting in soft beds. Jin reached Level 9 by starving his body, tearing his muscles in the dirt, and forcing the violent Devourer technique to glue his fibers back together. Their internal foundations were entirely different.
A faculty referee in a grey uniform walked to the edge of circle eight. He carried a small wooden clipboard. He looked at the two fighters.
"Match eight," the referee said clearly. "Jin versus Caelen. The rules are simple. No leaving the white circle. No lethal strikes to the throat or eyes. The match ends when an opponent yields, falls unconscious, or is knocked out of the ring. Are you ready?"
Caelen, the blonde noble, smirked. He dropped into a deep, sideways fencing stance. He pointed the dull tip of the rapier directly at Jin's face. He nodded confidently.
Jin stood completely straight. He held the heavy broadsword loosely at his side. He gave a single, brief nod. His face was a cold, blank mask. He did not drop into a stance. He just waited.
"Begin," the referee shouted.
Caelen exploded off his back foot. His speed was genuinely impressive. He utilized his Level 9 strength perfectly, closing the distance across the dirt ring in a fraction of a second. He was a blur of white silk and grey iron. He lunged forward. He aimed a rapid, high-speed thrust directly at Jin's chest. He wanted to end the fight in one flashy move to impress the instructors.
Jin did not step back. He did not try to dodge. He did not panic.
His corporate mind processed the physics of the incoming attack instantly. A rapier is a piercing weapon. It requires a razor-sharp point to slip between ribs or puncture armor. A dull rapier has no point. It is just a thin, flexible iron rod. It lacked the mass and the rigid structure to deliver severe blunt force trauma. Even if Caelen hit him directly in the chest, it would just feel like a heavy punch. It would not stop Jin's forward momentum.
Jin planted his heavy leather boots firmly into the dirt. He engaged his dense, Level 9 core. The heavy Aether flooded his arms.
He did not try a complex parry. He did not try to block the thin blade. He raised his massive iron falchion high above his right shoulder. He executed the exact same motion he had practiced ten thousand times against the empty air.
He brought the broadsword down in a brutal, straight chopping motion.
He ignored the rapier entirely. Gravity and raw kinetic force combined into a single, devastating downward strike. The heavy iron blade cut through the air with a deep whistle. It bypassed Caelen's thrusting guard completely.
The flat edge of the falchion slammed squarely into the top of the blonde boy's head.
Crack.
The sound of the heavy iron hitting bone echoed loudly in the small ring.
Caelen's eyes rolled back into his head instantly. The sheer concussive force short-circuited his nervous system. His flashy sprint completely collapsed. His legs folded underneath him. He dropped like a heavy stone, hitting the dirt face-first. A small cloud of grey dust puffed up around his body. The dull rapier slipped from his limp fingers.
Jin stopped his blade exactly one inch above the boy's fallen body. He held the heavy iron steady for a second, making sure the target was neutralized. Then, he slowly lowered the sword to his side. He looked down at the unconscious noble.
"Idiot," Jin mumbled quietly.
Speed is completely useless if the attack lacks the required weight to finish the job.
The arena went dead silent. The other nine matches had barely even begun. The students in the other rings stopped swinging their weapons and stared at circle eight. The fight had lasted exactly one second. It was not a duel. It was an execution.
The referee stood frozen for a moment, staring at the motionless boy in the dirt. Then, the referee raised his right hand and pointed directly at Jin.
"Winner," the referee declared loudly.
The word broke the silence. A medical team wearing white coats rushed out from the side tunnels. They sprinted into the chalk circle. They knelt next to Caelen and carefully rolled him onto his back. A massive, dark purple bruise was already swelling on his forehead, but his skull was intact. The rounded edge of the practice weapon and his Level 9 foundation had saved his life.
A medic pulled a small glass vial from a leather pouch. It contained a glowing green liquid. The medic tilted Caelen's head back and poured the high-tier medicine directly into his mouth. The Aether-rich liquid immediately went to work, accelerating his cellular regeneration to heal the severe concussion. The team quickly hauled the boy onto a canvas stretcher and carried him out of the arena.
Jin did not watch them leave. The transaction was complete.
He turned around and walked out of the white chalk circle. He carried his dull falchion back to the edge of the arena where the rest of his team was waiting.
He sat down in the dirt next to the cold steel wall.
Luna, Rian, and Elin stared at him. Their eyes were wide. They knew Jin was strong, but they had never seen him fight another human in a formal setting. They expected a long, drawn-out battle between two Level 9 cultivators. They did not expect a single, brutal chop to end it instantly.
Jin ignored their stares. He crossed his legs. He rested the heavy iron blade across his knees.
He did not celebrate his victory. He did not smile. He simply turned his dark eyes back to the open floor. He focused his attention on the other nine chalk circles.
The other matches were now in full swing. Iron clashed against iron. Students grunted and shouted in pain as they traded blows.
Jin watched them closely. He analyzed their footwork. He noted their reaction times. He cataloged their weaknesses. A sword user kept dropping his left guard. A spear user telegraphed his thrusts by shifting his back foot too early.
He was gathering data for the next rounds. The lottery had just begun, and the final acquisition was still ahead.