"WAAAGH!!!"
That was no mere roar.
It was more like a psychic assault, a convergence of hundreds of chaotic Wills, blended with the most primal, undisguised lust for slaughter. It struck the very souls of every new student in Class 1-3 like an invisible sledgehammer.
Immediately after, the ground began to tremble at a heart-pounding frequency.
The dark red gravel danced beneath their feet, as if shivering in anticipation of the coming tide of destruction.
A green torrent erupted violently from the mine entrance, which gaped like the maw of an abyss!
Over a hundred Green-skinned kids, brandishing a motley assortment of rusty cleavers, broadaxes, and metal clubs, formed this devastating wave.
They ran without any semblance of order, shoving and trampling their own kind, all for the chance to be the first to reach the enemy and plunge their blades into flesh.
The overpowering stench that washed over them—a mix of rust, sulfur, and the rot of some unknown creature—nearly made several of the less-composed students vomit on the spot.
BOOM—!
The students’ defensive line and the green tide crashed into each other on the wasteland.
That first moment of contact made these prodigies, who had grown up in simulation pods and training halls, deeply understand the chasm—drawn in blood and death—that separated "real combat" from "training."
A male student, whose nimble Swordsmanship had placed him in the top 20,000 of the high school entrance exams, faced a roaring Green-skinned kid. He calmly sidestepped, his Alloy Longsword tracing a graceful arc to precisely parry the enemy’s powerful slash.
CLANG!
The crisp sound of metal striking metal rang out.
He succeeded, but a brutish, overwhelming force—the likes of which he’d never experienced in any training session—surged wildly up the blade and into his arm.
His entire right arm went instantly numb and sore. A searing pain, as if the web of his thumb had been torn apart, shot through his hand, and he nearly lost his grip on the longsword.
That millisecond of stiffness was fatal on a real battlefield.
He didn’t even have time to recover his posture before another Green-skinned kid charged from his blind spot. Baring its massive, bloody maw, it swung its broadax in a brutally simple chop aimed straight at his head, the blade carrying a foul, pungent wind.
His pupils dilated in an instant.
"Look out!"
His roommate beside him let out a heart-wrenching cry. He threw himself forward without a second thought, shoving the other boy aside with his own body while violently thrusting his shield upward.
BANG!
The heavy broadax slammed viciously into the alloy shield, unleashing a deafening crash.
The force of the impact sent the shield-bearing student stumbling backward, his feet plowing two deep furrows in the ground. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
This was merely a microcosm of the entire battlefield.
The seemingly perfect pincer formation that Chu Lan had meticulously planned before the battle was instantly shattered by the Green-skinned kids’ frenzied charge—a tactic devoid of all strategy, relying only on throwing bodies at the enemy.
The students’ advantages were skill and equipment, but the Green-skinned kids’ advantages were numbers, a fearless Will to fight to the death, and a killer instinct honed through countless bloody brawls—far surpassing these hothouse flowers.
A female student used a nimble dagger to slice open a Green-skinned kid’s belly. Dark green intestines and organs spilled out instantly, releasing a nauseating, foul stench.
The girl’s face paled, and she instinctively took a step back.
But the Green-skinned kid seemed completely unaffected.
It merely glanced down at its spilled guts, then crudely shoved them back into its abdominal cavity with its free hand. Then, it let out an even more ferocious roar, its crimson eyes locked onto the girl as it raised its cleaver once more.
This madness, a complete disregard for the concept of life and death, utterly shattered the psychological defenses of some students.
"AH—!"
A male student, after being surrounded by three Green-skinned kids and receiving a gash on his arm so deep it exposed the bone, finally broke down.
He threw down his weapon, let out a terrified scream, and turned to run.
"Stop! Get back here!"
Chu Lan’s harsh voice rang out over the team channel, but it was too late.
The fleeing student had made it less than ten meters before a Green-skinned kid charging from the flank cut him down from behind with an axe.
In the distance, Wu Shangfeng’s figure vanished in a flash, pulling the boy from the battlefield. Otherwise, he would have been instantly swallowed by the swarming green tide.
"Hold the line! Everyone, hold the line!"
Chu Lan’s roar was tinged with irrepressible anxiety and fury. "Form up by dorms! Groups of four, back-to-back! Abandon the perimeter and contract to the center! Form a circular defense!"
His command was timely and correct.
But amidst the chaotic battle, a cold glint of light, like the Scythe of Death, suddenly flashed.
Shi Potian!
From the very beginning, he had been standing at the absolute front of the formation. Facing the direct assault of at least five Green-skinned kids, he had not taken a single step back.
His expression was as cold as ice, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion, as if the man-eating monsters before him were no different from the stationary targets in a training hall.
He moved.
There were no superfluous movements, just a simple, textbook-perfect forward dash.
His Battle Saber sliced through the air, tracing a straight line so simple and clean it was almost impossible for the naked eye to follow.
PSHHH!
The relentless blade effortlessly tore through the air, and through the throats of the three Green-skinned kids blocking his path.