The dust that filled the sky slowly settled.
The bottom of the massive mining pit was deathly still, the only sound the barely audible hum of power armor life support systems.
Kro’s mountain of a body lay silently on the ochre-red earth, his gaping eye sockets staring emptily at the grayish-yellow sky.
Beneath him, a foul-smelling, dark green slime slowly seeped into the arid soil, staining the ground a color full of corruption and malice.
The battle was over.
But there were no cheers of victory, no sighs of relief for having survived.
The surviving students, some standing, some sitting, silently gazed upon the ravaged battlefield.
Some students scrambled to administer first aid to their injured comrades. Sparks flew from damaged power armor, starkly illuminating the grave expressions on their faces.
Chu Lan struggled to sit up. He glanced at the terrifying dent in his chestplate, then at the broken Horse-Slaying Saber lying nearby. No one could see the expression beneath his T-shaped visor.
Shi Potian clutched his chest, coughing violently. Flecks of blood accompanied each cough.
At his feet lay his Standard Long Saber, shattered into countless pieces.
Qian Duoduo was in even worse shape. He was half-buried under the fragments of his deformed tower shield, his power armor so damaged that its emergency lockdown protocol had engaged, leaving him immobilized.
A heavy, suffocating atmosphere hung over them, tangible and oppressive.
Just then.
The figure of their homeroom teacher, Wu Shangfeng, silently descended upon the blood-soaked battlefield.
He didn’t look at the injured students, nor did he look at Qin Feng, the one who had turned the tide at the very end.
His gaze fell calmly upon the corpses of Kro and the other Nagash Followers.
No lectures, no commentary. He simply walked quietly to Kro’s body.
He extended his right hand, and a flamethrower nozzle emerged from his wrist-mounted terminal.
WHIR—
A ball of searing flame ignited out of thin air.
"The souls and flesh of Nagash Followers are breeding grounds for plague."
Wu Shangfeng’s voice, level and calm, echoed through everyone’s comms channel, breaking the suffocating silence.
"Their life force far exceeds that of ordinary people. Even in death, the billions of pathogens within them remain highly active. Without thorough purification, they could turn a mining planet into a barren plague star within days."
"They must be cleansed with Spiritual Energy."
"Of course, the flames from this Flame Gun are converted from Spiritual Energy, so it can be used directly."
As he spoke, he flipped his palm, and the ball of fire, as if alive, landed on Kro’s corpse.
SIZZLE... SIZZLE...
There was no violent combustion, no roaring blaze.
The flame, like a living creature, quickly spread over Kro’s enormous body.
Every bit of rotten flesh, every pustule, every maggot touched by the flame underwent a silent Annihilation, turning into the purest black ash and dissipating into the air.
The entire process was eerie and efficient.
Wu Shangfeng’s gaze swept over the remains being purified as he continued.
"In the Empire’s history, a black-hole-class Great Demon of Filth once fell during a galactic battle. The ’Ultimate Plague’ that arose from its corpse swept through the entire inhabited star system. That whole system, with its hundreds of millions of planets, was reduced to mindless, shambling husks in a single standard year. In the end, the Empire had no choice but to issue an extermination order and wipe that star system from physical existence."
His voice was devoid of emotion, as if he were stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.
But the cold, cruel truth contained in his words sent a chill through the very souls of every student present.
What they had faced today was not even dust compared to such a cosmic catastrophe.
Soon, under the flame’s purification, all the corpses at the bottom of the pit were incinerated completely, not a single trace left behind.
The foul stench that had permeated the air also dissipated.
After dealing with everything, Wu Shangfeng activated his wrist-mounted terminal.
"Mission submitted."
He stated succinctly.
"Prepare for return."
Subspace Teleportation initiated. Immense spatial energy gathered once more.
A dazzling white light swallowed everything.
When the students opened their eyes again, they were back in Qiming First Martial Arts High School, inside their own familiar, exclusive Martial Arts Room.
The light of the morning star streamed through the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright, warm patches of light on the floor. It formed a stark contrast with the filth still clinging to their power armor.
Everyone stood silently in place.
After removing their power armor, many found their training uniforms soaked through with cold sweat.
Some students’ faces were pale with the shock of survival; others’ eyes were filled with frustration and regret over their own performance. But most simply stared at the ground, their gazes filled with confusion and bewilderment.
Kro’s final, desperate roars seemed to still echo in their ears.
His words, one after another, were like poisoned thorns that had embedded themselves deep in the hearts of these prodigies, who had been raised on the glorious teachings of the Empire since childhood.
Wu Shangfeng walked to the front of the class, looking at the students and their varied expressions.
"You have half an hour. Reflect."
His voice was as cold and hard as ever. "Reflect on your performance in the battle just now. Reflect on every action, every decision, and... every mistake you made."
"In half an hour, I expect to hear your self-critiques."
With that, he stood quietly at the podium, arms crossed, and closed his eyes, like a silent statue.
You could hear a pin drop in the Martial Arts Room.
The students nodded slightly, then dispersed, each finding a corner to silently begin the "reflection" Wu Shangfeng had demanded.
Reviewing the battle, the process was simple and brutal.
When clearing out the infected miners on the periphery, the students of Class 1-3 had demonstrated the qualities expected of students from one of the Empire’s top Martial Arts High Schools.
The combat teams cooperated seamlessly and acted decisively. They completed the first phase of the mission efficiently, without any casualties.
However, this "excellent" report card was built on a foundation of absolute, overwhelming power.
Even so, the battle had exposed significant problems.
Over half the class had been helpless against the tenacious, death-defying Nagash Followers.
Their attacks struggled to inflict any effective damage on those bloated, tough bodies.
Their Body Techniques seemed clumsy and stiff on the chaotic battlefield.
This weaker portion of the class had become little more than burdens who needed protection during the fight.
The only ones who had truly held the line were a few top experts, led by Qin Feng, Shi Potian, and Chu Lan.
And when the final enemy, Kro, appeared with a life force index of 14.5, this gap in strength was brutally and infinitely magnified.
Even someone as strong as Chu Lan, wielding his Horse-Slaying Saber, was defeated in a single blow.
Even someone as strong as Shi Potian, who used the Ninefold Thunder Saber, ended up with a shattered weapon, severely injured and coughing up blood.
Their proud slaughter techniques seemed fragile and pathetic before Kro’s absolute power and defense, blessed by an Evil God.
Their combat experience, their Slaughter Realm, was clearly far from sufficient for the enemies they faced.
Before Kro, they didn’t even have the right to participate in the battle.
They would have been killed instantly.
When facing the final boss, the only person in all of Class 1-3 who could stand against him was Qin Feng.
And Qin Feng, too, was reflecting.
He closed his eyes, replaying every detail of the fight with Kro in his mind, over and over.
That final move, "Flowing Light Chasing Shadow," was a brand-new killing technique he had comprehended at the brink of life and death, fusing all his insights under the mysterious empowerment of the Nail of Favor.
This technique had departed from the wide, sweeping style of "Thousand Soldiers’ Evasion." It was a pure, pinpoint spear strike that pushed speed and precision to their absolute limits.
With his comprehension of this move, he could clearly feel that his understanding of the > had reached a completely new level.
On his system panel, the suffix next to [Thousand Army Spear] had quietly changed from "Minor Accomplishment" to "Major Accomplishment."
This meant that his spear technique had, in the truest sense, reached a new level of mastery.
But Qin Feng’s thoughts went beyond just this.
Kro’s words echoed repeatedly in his mind.
"I’ve bled for the Empire! I’ve lost limbs for it!"
"My three sons... all died in the internal squabbles of the planetary administration!"
"This Empire is rotten to the core, from top to bottom!"
And then there was the statue of the Emperor at the edge of the pit, weather-beaten and mottled, shedding "tears of blood."
And Kro’s desperate figure, shoved into a cold mining Mecha, forced to toil day after day.
Qin Feng didn’t know if he should ask.
’Were those words... all true?’
’If... if they were true...’