The wind carried the distant hum of battle cries across the sun-drenched arena, where fallen leaves swirled like fleeing birds. Dust rose under heavy footsteps, the once-pristine stone path now scattered with cracks and scorch marks from relentless combat. Overhead, the sky had begun to shift—blue fading into a smoky grey, clouds thickening with tension as if even nature held its breath.
From the center of the field, a sharp crack shattered the air.
Cao Cao stood tall, one hand raised to the sky. Lightning arced down, splitting the clouds in a jagged line of silver. The bolt didn't strike the ground but wrapped around his body, illuminating his silhouette in a blinding dance of electric fury. Sparks hissed off his blade, carving a web of glowing etchings into the ground beneath his feet.
On the sidelines, the mentors stood beneath the shade of an arched wooden pavilion, its beams creaking in the wind. The oldest among them adjusted his cloak, eyes narrowing. "Zhan Shi–3," he murmured, "yet he commands a medium-class technique…"
Another mentor, leaning against a pillar entwined with ivy, scoffed quietly. "He'll win. That brat Mike? He can't match that kind of power. He doesn't even possess a proper technique."
Their voices faded into the rustling leaves as all eyes turned to the battlefield.
Mike stood motionless. Pebbles rolled at his feet as the residual lightning sizzled in the air. Sweat clung to his brow. His hand gripped the handle of his war hammer so tightly his knuckles paled. Behind him, the rest of the Wall of Academy team fought their own duels, but the echo of weapons and shouts barely reached Mike's ears.
He stared at Cao Cao's crackling form, jaw clenched. So this is a technique, he thought, heart pounding like a drumbeat. How much strength does it hold? No… I'll leave the rest to fate.
Then, without another thought, he surged forward.
Mike's moves came fast—fluid, instinctive. Each strike of his hammer created shockwaves that rippled through the ground, kicking up tufts of dry grass and scattering petals from the nearby sakura tree. His feet dug into the stone as he launched toward Cao Cao.
Cao Cao laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. "Hey Mike, did you know? This will be your last match."
Mike didn't flinch. He spat into the dust. "Let's see whose last match this really is."
Their weapons clashed with a metallic scream, the force of the impact sending tremors through the field. Stone cracked beneath their feet. A breeze whistled past, sweeping ash and loose soil through the air. The Lightning Technique flared again, but Mike countered with a spiraling hammer move, the force creating a violent gust that blew back nearby fighters.
The explosion was instant—raw energy bursting outward in a thunderous wave. Leaves stripped from branches, banners ripped from poles. Smoke curled into the sky.
Both fighters were thrown apart. Cao Cao staggered, blood trickling down his lip. Mike collapsed to one knee, gasping, his hammer splintering in his hands. All around, silence fell.
From the side, Huang Lie stepped forward. His robes whipped in the wind, his expression thunderous. "You reckless fool!" he barked. "Was this worth your life?"
But before the mentors could reach him, a light pulsed from Mike's chest.
A quiet hum filled the air. The mentors froze. A soft blue glow seeped from his body, spiraling around him like mist rising off a lake at dawn. The broken hammer at his feet reformed, each piece drawn together by invisible force. The blue flame shimmered, not burning—but alive.
Gasps erupted. Even birds nesting on the Academy towers took flight.
The flame curled around Mike's arms, illuminating his face with its glow. It wasn't his own power—it belonged to something else. Something older. From deep within his storage ring, his father's legacy had awakened. The flame that had once scorched battlefields now flowed through him.
Cao Cao's eyes widened in horror. "No… that flame…"
He rushed in desperation, sword raised. Mike, blue fire dancing in his eyes, met him head-on. The regenerated hammer glowed like a star descending to earth. He struck—once, twice, three times. Each blow landed with a burst of wind and searing light, like thunder cracking open the sky.
Cao Cao crashed to the ground. Unmoving.
Silence stretched across the field. Even the breeze seemed to hold back.
One by one, the Cao Gang members dropped their weapons. They retreated without a word, vanishing into the shadows of the path lined with moss-covered stones and flickering lanterns.
Victory.
As the medics rushed to carry Cao Cao away, he raised his head, bloodied and broken. Crawling forward, he knelt before Mike. "I… I'm sorry," he whispered, voice raspy. "I was blinded by my pride."
Mike, leaning on his hammer, offered a tired smile. "Good. Then learn from it. Come to the Inner Academy next year."
One month later.
The courtyard outside the Hall of Masters was blooming with late spring flowers. Cherry blossoms floated in the air like drifting snow. The mentors, clad in ceremonial robes, presented the three final teams with their rewards.
A long scroll was handed to Mike's team—golden symbols glowing faintly upon it. The Beast Roar Technique.
Mike turned to Lei Hu. "This suits your style. You take it."
Lei Hu blinked. "Are you sure?"
"You'll make better use of it than me."
And with that, they set out.
Their path led through forests where the trees stood like silent guardians, and rivers shimmered beneath stone bridges carved with ancient runes. They traveled under skies of soft amber, the sun painting golden arcs along the horizon. Eventually, a vast cliff appeared, and at its edge: a swirling portal carved into an obsidian monolith.
The entry to the Inner Academy.
Their journey was far from over—but the story had only just begun.