The sand pit was silent save for Gu Moon Bo's agonized screams. The other students stared, not at the victor, but at the loser, their faces pale with a new kind of fear. This was not the playful dominance they were used to. This was cold, calculated brutality. The river rat had fangs, and they were sharp.
The Academy Elder stepped forward, his face an unreadable face. "The match is over. Meng Ru is the victor. Take Gu Moon Bo to the healing hall."
Two Gu Masters hurried forward to help the sobbing, cursing Gu Moon Bo, whose threats were incoherent through his pain. As they led him away, a heavy presence descended upon the training yard.
The Gu Moon Clan Elder stood at the entrance, his face a thundercloud of fury. He had arrived just in time to see his grandson being carried away, cradling a shattered wrist. His gaze, sharp and murderous, locked onto Meng Ru.
"You," the Clan Elder's voice was low, trembling with rage. "You dare to cripple my grandson?"
The temperature in the yard seemed to drop. The students shrank back, terrified. This was the wrath of the clan's highest authority.
Meng Ru met the furious gaze without flinching. His expression remained placid, his voice even. "Clan Elder. It was a sanctioned spar. The Academy Elder set the rules: no killing, no permanent crippling. A broken bone can be mended. I ended the fight with a single, decisive blow. To prolong it would have been a waste of both my primeval essence and his. It was the most efficient outcome for the clan."
He framed his ruthlessness as a pragmatic service to the clan. He had not acted out of malice but out of cold, hard logic. The argument was irrefutable, and its flawless reasoning only infuriated the Clan Elder more.
"Efficiency?" the Elder spat, taking a step forward.
"Enough." The Academy Elder moved to stand between them, a subtle but clear act of intervention. "The boy speaks the truth, Clan Elder. Your grandson was reckless and emotional. He expended his essence foolishly. Meng Ru exploited that weakness. It was a valuable lesson in tactics for all the students."
The Clan Elder's jaw clenched. He was trapped. He could not punish an A-grade genius—the clan's greatest hope—for winning a duel according to the rules, especially when his own grandson had been the aggressor. To do so would be to show weakness, to let personal feelings override the clan's benefit. It would be a catastrophic loss of face.
He stared at Meng Ru, his eyes burning with a cold, hateful fire. The desire for revenge was warring with his duties as the clan leader.
Finally, he spoke, his voice dripping with a venomous sweetness. "You are right. Such efficiency should be rewarded. Since you are so capable, so… efficient… you will be given a special assignment."
He did not wait for a response. "The Northern Herb Garden has been troubled by beasts lately. You will stand guard there tonight. Alone."
A collective gasp went through the students who knew what this meant. The herb garden was located just outside the village palisade, a place notoriously difficult to defend. Sending a single, Rank One student to guard it was not an assignment. It was a death sentence.
The Elder was using his authority not to punish, but to arrange a convenient, deniable death for the one who had humiliated his bloodline. If Meng Ru died, it was because he was not strong enough. The clan would lose an asset, but the elder's pride would be restored.
"I accept," Meng Ru said, his voice betraying no emotion. He understood the unspoken terms of the arrangement perfectly. This was a test. Survive, and he would prove his value was greater than the Elder's grudge. Fail, and he would be another forgotten entry in the ledger.
The Clan Elder gave a final, chilling smile. "Good. See that you do your duty." He turned and swept away, his rage now hidden beneath a veneer of authority.
As the other students were dismissed, they gave Meng Ru a wide berth, looking at him as if he were already a dead man.
Only Feng Yin paused. She stood several paces away, her face grim. "The Northern Herb Garden is where they found the last guard's remains," she said, her voice a low whisper. "There is a pack of Lightning Wolves that hunts near there. You have made a powerful enemy."
"I know," Meng Ru replied, his gaze distant.
"This is not a spar you can win by breaking a wrist," she pressed.
"Every problem is an equation," Meng Ru said, turning to look at her, his eyes as calm and deep as a well. "One only needs to find the right variables to solve it."
He walked away, leaving her standing alone in the sand pit. She watched his retreating back, a shiver running down her spine. He was not walking to his death. He was walking to his next calculation.