Volume 2: Shenzhou Academy & The Battle of Venice
Chapter 129
Lightning One-Shot, Defeating the Top 150
The atmosphere inside the Shenzhou Battle Ranking Arena was thick with the ozone tang of raw mana and the frenzied, deafening roars of tens of thousands of spectators.
Engineered with the majestic contours of an ancient Roman amphitheater fused with the zenith of cutting-edge arcane architecture, the Shenzhou Arena sprawled across an immense expanse, hosting ten independent granite dueling platforms. Each platform was ringed by towering quartz obelisks carved with dense, multi-tiered defensive runic arrays. These wards were fortified to contain the devastating concussive force of peak Intermediate-tier magic, ensuring not a single stray shockwave could breach the boundary and wash over the steep, tiered galleries surrounding the arena.
Today, however, every gaze in the colosseum converged upon Dueling Platform No. 3 in the southeastern sector.
The reason was tantalizingly simple: this marked the maiden challenge launched by a first-year freshman aiming straight for the prestigious Top 150 of the Shenzhou Battle Ranking—a sovereign territory traditionally held as the inviolable domain of battle-hardened sophomores and juniors.
Below the ring, Lin Feng’s close circle occupied a prime section of the honorary spectator gallery. Gu Xiaowei clutched both small hands against her chest, her wide, luminous eyes glued in apprehension to the figure of the young man casually ascending the stone steps.
“Brother Zhaoyuan... Is Brother Lin Feng really going to clash with him head-on?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “His opponent is Senior Sun Liang from the Wind Element College! They say Sun Liang has held the 142nd rank for six months straight. His evasion speed and razor wind slashes have forced quite a few second-year Lightning mages to concede simply because they couldn’t lock onto his coordinates before being cut down!”
Seated beside her, Xie Zhaoyuan leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. He projected an air of supreme nonchalance, but the rapid, rhythmic tapping of his heel against the stone floor betrayed his inner tension.
“Don’t worry, Little Wei,” Xie Zhaoyuan grunted, shaking his head. “That monster Lin walked straight into an evil cult altar all by his lonesome on that desolate island and butchered a Blue-Robed Deacon in cold blood. Sun Liang might have some fancy arena chops, but when it comes to raw, life-or-death savagery, he wouldn’t hold a candle to a tenth of the Gluttonous Demon Crabs crawling out of the abyss.”
Beside them, Ye Qingwan was draped in the noble navy-blue overcoat of the academy uniform, its silver trim catching the ambient light. Her lustrous black hair cascaded over her shoulders, her exquisite, porcelain features serene without the faintest ripple of anxiety. Her eyes, clear as mountain springs, rested unwaveringly on Lin Feng, the corner of her lips curving into an almost imperceptible smile.
“He doesn’t merely intend to win; he intends to finish it fast,” Ye Qingwan said softly. “Lin Feng needs the accumulated merit points and the prestige of the Top 100 to qualify for the Jinghai underground auction this weekend. He won’t waste a single second playing cat and mouse.”
Up on Platform No. 3, the two combatants stood thirty meters apart, facing off across the bare granite.
Lin Feng wore a simple black button-down shirt tucked into ash-gray trousers, his posture upright and unyielding like a spear hammered deep into bedrock. Both hands were thrust nonchalantly into his pockets. His chiseled visage was so tranquil it seemed as though he were merely taking a leisurely stroll through the campus gardens rather than standing before a brutal ranking duel.
In stark contrast to Lin Feng’s unflinching calm, his opponent—Sun Liang—exuded the razor-edged arrogance of an elite perched atop the academy’s food chain.
Sun Liang stood around twenty years of age, tall, lean, and clad in form-fitting emerald beast-hide battle armor that accentuated his wiry musculature. Clasped in his right hand was a slender, four-foot longsword that hummed with a low, predatory drone. The blade had been forged from sapphire refined-iron and etched with three undulating wind runes that constantly whipped minute, spiraling vortexes around the tip—the renowned mid-grade Cleaving Magic Armament known as the “Wind Spirit Magic Sword,” an heirloom the Sun Clan had spent a fortune to craft for him.
Sun Liang casually tilted the blade, slicing through the air with a shrill, piercing whistle. A mocking sneer curled his lips as he glared down his nose at Lin Feng.
“Lin Feng, I’ll admit you reaped some glory on Huanglu Island, and it’s only natural the Vice Dean commended you,” Sun Liang said, his voice laced with venomous disdain. “But this is the Battle Ranking Arena, not some wilderness hunting ground where you can rely on that overgrown black wolf of yours to run amok! A first-year fledgling should know his place and scurry to the rear. Don’t think slaying a few mindless beasts on a barren reef entitles you to look down on us second-year seniors!”
Amplified by the swirling air currents, Sun Liang’s taunt echoed across the platform, prompting the second-year students congregated in the western stands to erupt into bursts of boisterous laughter.
“Well said, Brother Sun! Give that wet-behind-the-ears punk a taste of your wind blades!”
“A freshman barely out of orientation already daring to challenge the Top 150—newborn calves truly fear no tigers! Just wait until Brother Sun’s Wind Track spins him so dizzy he won’t even find time to chant an incantation for his summon!”
Amid the cacophony of abrasive jeers, Lin Feng remained utterly unbothered. His eyes flicked past the enchanted blade in Sun Liang’s grip, coming to rest calmly on the youth’s shoulder.
“With so much useless banter,” Lin Feng murmured indifferently, “it’s going to hurt quite a bit when you hit the stone.”
“You——!”
Sun Liang’s face contorted, the blue veins along his temples throbbing with fury. Never had an underclassman dared address him with such effortless, dismissive condescension!
Before Sun Liang could lash out, the middle-aged disciplinary referee stepped into the center of the ring. Casting a stern glance across both fighters, he hoisted high an iron-gauntleted forearm.
“Shenzhou Battle Ranking, 142nd Rank Challenge!” the referee declared in a booming baritone. “Standard regulations apply: Cease combat upon decisive contact! Life-stimulating forbidden pharmaceuticals are strictly prohibited! The instant one party is hurled from the ring or rendered incapacitated, victory is decided! Combatants, prepare...”
The referee stepped back to the arena boundary, his arm chopping down sharply through empty air:
“BEGIN!”
HUMMMM——!!
The four quartz obelisks surrounding the platform flared with brilliant radiance, instantly erecting a translucent, pale-blue energy dome that locked down every cubic inch of Platform No. 3.
Within barely a tenth of a second of the command falling, Sun Liang erupted with all his might!
He harbored zero intention of testing the waters or extending mercy. He wanted to use his swiftest, most overwhelming tempo to grind this arrogant freshman beneath his boots, demonstrating to the entire student body the insurmountable chasm separating first-years from second-years!
“Wind Track —— FLUTTERING PHANTOM!”
An intense emerald luminescence exploded beneath Sun Liang’s boots. Seven Wind-element star particles within his Sea of Consciousness linked into an incandescent constellation at breathtaking speed. This was no rudimentary Primary Wind Track, but a Fourth-Tier Wind Track honed through countless life-and-death skirmishes!
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The granite flags underfoot seemed to transform into slick, frictionless ice. Sun Liang’s silhouette blurred and instantaneously divided into three identical spectral duplicates, tearing through the atmosphere at a velocity nearly impossible for the naked eye to register!
Three emerald afterimages traced a lethal crescent formation, boxing Lin Feng in from the east, west, and north. The shrill shriek of shearing wind resembled a torn pipe organ, an invisible tidal wave of pneumatic pressure sweeping across the platform and rattling loose stone shards across the flags.
“Terrifying speed! That’s a Tier-4 Fluttering Phantom combined with the acceleration properties of the Wind Spirit Magic Sword!” a third-year student in the stands marveled aloud. “At that velocity, an Archmage of the same tier couldn’t possibly acquire a visual target. The moment those three phantoms close in, the opponent will be pierced straight through his wards!”
On the platform, Sun Liang’s three duplicates sneered in eerie unison, his shifting, phantom voice echoing from all directions:
“Lin Feng! You pathetic summoner, what are you waiting for? Why haven’t you summoned your black mutt? Or has your Sea of Consciousness frozen in sheer terror?!”
Before the final echo faded, Sun Liang had already initiated his second lethal art!
He intended to extinguish every lingering sliver of hope for a turnaround. Refusing to grant Lin Feng an inch of breathing room, Sun Liang clamped both hands around the hilt of the Wind Spirit Magic Sword even while hurtling forward at breakneck speed, raising the blade high above his crown.
Forty-nine emerald star particles within his Wind Nebula flared with incandescent light, seven star paths interlacing with mechanical precision to weave a spinning, luminous magic Star Pattern beneath his feet!
Intermediate Wind Magic!
“Wind Disc —— THOUSAND BLADES!!”
ROAAAR——!!
The air within the platform’s perimeter was violently sucked inward into a howling atmospheric vortex. From the sapphire tip of Sun Liang’s magic sword, hundreds of half-meter-long wind blades—translucent green like jade and sharp enough to slice clean through reinforced steel—coalesced in a berserk frenzy!
They spun wildly within a colossal cyclone, forging a meat grinder of razor-sharp wind blades that blanketed the entire expanse of Platform No. 3. The durable granite floor was shredded into hundreds of deep, jagged furrows wherever the blades grazed, showers of stone chips ricocheting off the protective barrier with deafening, staccato cracks!
The spectators held their collective breath.
“Dammit! Sun Liang is playing dirty—opening right out of the gate with an Intermediate Wind Disc!” Xie Zhaoyuan leaped out of his seat, his eyes bulging as his fingers dug into the iron guardrail.
Gu Xiaowei gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth, her face draining of color. Before that tempest of utter destruction, a human being seemed as fragile as a withered leaf trapped in the eye of a hurricane; a single misstep would see them torn into a thousand bloody shreds.
Yet, squarely in the crosshairs of that howling maelstrom, Lin Feng remained rooted to the spot.
He did not retreat by half an inch.
Nor did he channel a dimensional gate to summon the Nether Black Wolf to shield him.
The savage gale whipped the fabric of his black shirt into frantic snaps, tossing the dark bangs across his forehead to reveal a broad brow and eyes as deep as an ancient thousand-year well. Upon that face, there was not a flicker of panic, not a shred of dread; even the basic tension expected of a warrior staring down a lethal assault was completely absent.
Serene. A tranquility so profound it bordered on the grotesque.
At the exact moment when hundreds of howling Thousand Blades wind cutters closed to within five meters of his frame, Lin Feng casually lidded his eyes.
He closed his eyes in the middle of battle!
That seemingly lunatic action sent a collective gasp through the stands. The second-year spectators broke into triumphant laughter, believing this freshman had succumbed to despair and accepted his fate of being carved to pieces.
Yet how could they fathom the terrifying height Lin Feng had attained?
The moment his physical eyesight closed, his spiritual senses—supercharged by the Primordial Dragon Pendant resting against his chest—blazed to life within the darkness of his consciousness.
Every micro-fluctuation of air friction, every minute bead of moisture riding the gale, every resonant vibration humming through the granite flags, and above all, that high-speed surge of emerald mana... all of it materialized in his mind with hyper-precise, three-dimensional clarity.
Sun Liang’s velocity was indeed lightning-fast to ordinary students. But to someone who had dodged the spatial-rending shadow claws of Commander-class sea beasts, someone who had waged a life-and-death bloodbath against a Blue-Robed Deacon of the Nether Church, this so-called blinding speed was... pathetically slow!
As sluggish as a turtle crawling across wet sand!
Clink!
A minuscule tremor of mana resonated from his blind spot—thirty degrees to his left rear.
Sun Liang’s three wind phantoms had finally collapsed back into a single strike. Capitalizing on the dense curtain of pulverised rock kicked up by the Wind Disc, he had ghosted behind Lin Feng’s back like a lethal specter. The Wind Spirit Magic Sword concentrated the entirety of his residual pneumatic force into a spiraling wind drill, thrusting with vicious precision toward Lin Feng’s shoulder blade!
’It’s over, arrogant rookie!’ Sun Liang roared internally, his lips pulling back into a feral, sadistic grin as the sword tip closed to within a single handspan of Lin Feng’s flesh!
At that razor’s edge between life and death!
Lin Feng’s right hand, resting casually in his trouser pocket, abruptly withdrew.
His thumb and middle finger met lightly amid the air illuminated by the emerald storm, and snapped:
SNAP!
A crisp, impossibly sharp finger snap cut through the howling fury of the cyclone. That tiny, crystalline sound seemed imbued with an eerie, commanding sorcery, cleaving straight through the arena’s deafening uproar to strike directly at the soul of every living onlooker.
In the wake of that snap, Lin Feng’s eyes snapped wide open!
Within those pitch-black pupils, all tranquility vanished—replaced by a turbulent, apocalyptic ocean of violet-black thunder!
No lengthy gathering of force!
No cumbersome three-second incantation!
Having undergone seven days of purification within the Spirit Gathering Pagoda, bolstered by the pristine mana distilled from the slain cult deacon’s soul, Lin Feng’s Sea of Consciousness operated with an unnatural, terrifying mastery. Forty-nine Lightning star particles—every single one a Fourth-Tier Star Particle nourished by flawless Soul Essences—aligned into a magnificent, violet-black Lightning Star Pattern in the tenth of an eye-blink!
Intermediate Lightning Magic!
“Thunderbolt —— WRATHFUL CLEAVE!!”
Lin Feng coldly uttered four words.
BOOM —— RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE——!!
The vaulted dome within the ward of Platform No. 3 darkened in an instant.
The airspace directly above the ring seemed ripped open by the invisible hand of an ancient titan, tearing a jagged, pitch-black spatial fissure across the ceiling. From that void rift, a column of deep-violet celestial lightning—as thick as the trunk of a thousand-year-old oak, radiating berserk, cataclysmic destructive fury and temperatures hot enough to liquefy solid steel—crashed downward like a divine warhammer hurled from the heavens!
Before the lightning even touched the ground, its sheer atmospheric weight pulverized the hundreds of whirring Thousand Blades into harmless specks of arcane dust!
The sadistic smirk on Sun Liang’s face froze solid in a microsecond.
His pupils shrank into pinpricks. Unadulterated terror flooded his mind like an overwhelming tsunami, drowning his soul. He watched helplessly as the blinding violet-black radiance devoured his entire vision, feeling the skin across his body blister and singe before his nervous system could even trigger a defensive reflex!
’THIS INSTANT...’
KABOOM—— CRASH——!!
The violet-black celestial thunderbolt crashed down upon the crown of Sun Liang’s head with millimeter precision!
CRACK—— SNAP—— SHATTER!
The mid-grade Wind Spirit Magic Sword that Sun Liang treasured above all else shattered the instant it grazed the outer fringe of the electrical arc, exploding into thousands of jagged iron splinters that sprayed across the ring!
The emerald beast-hide battle armor encasing his body was instantly scorched to cinder and ash by the electrical inferno. The apocalyptic concussive force of Thunderbolt: Wrathful Cleave detonated into a circular shockwave of crackling thunder, hurling Sun Liang’s figure backward through the air like a kite with a severed tether!
THUD——!!
Sun Liang’s body slammed brutally into the quartz barrier wall thirty meters away. The enchanted partition shrieked under the catastrophic impact, violent ripples cascading across its surface as the entire platform trembled.
Sun Liang slid down the wall and crumpled onto the stone floor, lying completely motionless. His entire body was charred pitch-black, thick plumes of acrid white smoke curling up from his hair and blistered flesh, while erratic violet-black sparks continued to dance across his twitching limbs.
His aura had utterly collapsed; he was knocked out cold on the spot!
Out on the platform, the granite flags where the thunderbolt had landed were caved into a crater over three meters wide, the rim glowing molten red with bubbling slag, hissing and crackling as it slowly cooled.
Standing barely two paces from that crater, Lin Feng remained with his spine ramrod straight.
Both hands had already slipped casually back into his pockets. The breeze carried wisps of soot past his pitch-black shirt without leaving behind a single blemish of dust. He hadn’t even bothered to turn his head to glance at the vanquished opponent behind him.
The entire sequence—from the referee’s starting command, Sun Liang activating Fluttering Phantom, unleashing Wind Disc: Thousand Blades, to the descent of the divine thunder that shattered the sword and crushed the opponent...
Had lasted exactly three seconds!
Three seconds! A single-strike instant kill!
“...”
The entire Shenzhou Battle Ranking Arena, packed with over ten thousand spectators, plunged into a suffocating, deathly silence.
The howling wind had died.
The cheers and jeers of the second-year students choked in their throats. Their mocking sneers and smug expressions froze into grotesque masks. Their mouths hung open, their eyes bulging as though about to pop from their sockets, staring in dumbfounded disbelief at the youth in black standing alone amidst the scorched ruin, and the charred, motionless form crumpled against the barrier.
One strike... Just a single Intermediate Lightning spell!
No summoned beast!
No evasive footwork!
Meeting force with overwhelming force, Lin Feng had relied on the pure, devastating critical power of the Lightning element to utterly demolish the speed and wind blades of an elite second-year senior!
Standing near the perimeter, the disciplinary referee swallowed hard, his throat dry. Though he had officiated thousands of duels on the Battle Ranking, the clean, ruthless brutality of that lightning strike—and the absurdly instantaneous channeling speed displayed by this freshman—still caused his scalp to tingle with numbness.
He hurried over to Sun Liang’s side, dropping to one knee to press two fingers against the youth’s carotid artery.
“Weak pulse, second-degree mana burns, concussive trauma to the Sea of Consciousness... but his life is not in danger.”
Having confirmed the fighter’s condition, the referee drew a deep breath to steady his racing heart. Rising to his feet, he swept his iron-clad arm toward Lin Feng, funneling his mana to project his voice across the colosseum:
“The match is concluded! Sun Liang is incapacitated!”
“Winner —— LIN FENG!!”
“CHALLENGE SUCCESSFUL! RANK 142 OF THE SHENZHOU BATTLE RANKING HAS OFFICIALLY CHANGED HANDS!!”
BOOOOM——!!
The referee’s proclamation was a flaming brand tossed directly into a powder keg!
The stifling silence was shattered instantly, drowned out by an unprecedented tsunami of deafening cheers erupting from the freshman bleachers!
Thousands of first-year students leaped to their feet in unison, pumping their fists toward the heavens, roaring until their voices cracked:
“Lin Feng! Lin Feng is invincible!”
“Take a good look, you arrogant second-years! Three seconds! In just three seconds, your precious Sun Liang was blasted into a heap of charcoal!”
“Who said us freshmen are easy targets?! All hail Boss Lin Feng!”
Thunderous applause, ear-splitting whistles, and triumphant roars rattled the arena’s vaulted ceiling like an earthquake.
Xie Zhaoyuan threw back his head and laughed uproariously, slapping his thighs with hearty smacks: “Hahaha! What did I tell you?! That clown Sun Liang dared dance around in front of Lin Feng—it’d be a miracle if he wasn’t roasted into a suckling pig!”
Gu Xiaowei finally released a long breath of relief, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration, her eyes shimmering as she watched the youth in the ring. “Brother Lin Feng... is just too incredible...”
Beside them, Ye Qingwan gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a rare, radiant smile blooming across her lips. She understood all too well that this duel was merely the opening salvo of a tempest about to sweep through the entire Shenzhou Archmage Academy.
Across the arena, the second-year students wore expressions as pale and lifeless as ash. Not a single person dared utter a word of protest. They hung their heads, averting their eyes from the scorching, mocking stares of the freshmen. They knew that as of today, the upperclassmen’s reign of supremacy had been violently torn apart by a freshman monster wielding celestial lightning!
Whirrr—— Whirrr——
In the very center of the arena, the colossal thirty-meter Magic Quartz Stele—which displayed the Shenzhou Battle Ranking—suddenly flared with a brilliant golden aura.
Under the witness of over ten thousand spectators, the golden inscription formerly reigning at the 142nd position slowly dissolved:
Rank 142: Sun Liang (Wind Element College - Second Year)
And just a second later, razor-sharp runes glowing with crackling violet-black lightning flared to life in its place:
RANK 142: LIN FENG (SUMMONING COLLEGE / DUAL ELEMENT - INCOMING FRESHMAN)
The golden radiance cascaded downward, bathing Lin Feng’s back in a resplendent mantle of light that made him appear like a god of war descended upon the mortal realm.
The academy’s medical squad was already rushing onto the platform with a stretcher, quickly hoisting the unconscious Sun Liang, administering stabilization spells, and hurrying him through the tunnel.
Lin Feng turned on his heel and strode leisurely toward the platform exit.
As his boot touched the stone steps, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping across the monumental ranking stele floating mid-air.
Rank 142...
To any other freshman, this standing would already be an unprecedented miracle, more than enough to etch their name into the academy’s historical records. But in Lin Feng’s deep, fathomless eyes, this position was far from sufficient.
His gaze drifted higher.
Skipping past the names between 140 and 101, his eyes lingered upon the fiery crimson band of the “Top 100,” before locking firmly onto the “Top 50”—the pinnacle stratum where Shenzhou’s true apex prodigies congregated, where colossal monthly resource allocations and priority purchasing rights for top-tier magical treasures were bestowed.
The Jinghai Auction in three days would officially open bidding for that peak Spirit-grade Fire Seed: “Crimson Flowing Flame.” Its starting bid was twenty million gold coins, accompanied by the mandatory prerequisite that the bidder hold a position within the Top 100 of one of Shenzhou’s four great magic academies!
Clenching his fist lightly, Lin Feng felt the Fire mana churning deep within his chest, eager to burst from its chrysalis and soar into the sky.
Rank 142 was merely the prelude.
Shenzhou Battle Ranking, prepare for the true storm!