The central square of the Martial Academy was a sea of disciples. From every hall and courtyard, from every clan-affiliated dormitory and wandering rogue's chamber, they had come. Thousands stood shoulder to shoulder, their whispers weaving like a net of tension beneath the pale morning sky.
Everyone had heard the rumors. Corpses drained of Qi. Claw marks carved into stone. Faces seen in the dark, not quite human.
But this morning, there would be no whispers. Only truth.
Elder Wu stepped onto the high platform. His crimson robes fluttered in the wind, and the weight of his Qi pressed down like a mountain. The square fell silent at once. Even the arrogant heirs of great clans straightened under his gaze.
"You have all heard the whispers," Elder Wu's voice rolled across the square like thunder. "They are no longer whispers. They are truth."
He paused, his eyes sharp as blades, sweeping over the restless crowd.
"Two nights ago, three outer disciples were found near the Rift Gate. Their meridians had been drained dry. Their dantian shattered. Their corpses nothing more than husks."
Gasps rippled outward like a stone cast into water.
"These," Elder Wu continued, and with a flick of his sleeve he lifted a jade slip etched with claw-like streaks of black, "were carved into the stone beside their bodies. Marks we thought we would never see again. Marks that match ancient records sealed within our archives."
He let the silence stretch, heavy and suffocating. Then his voice dropped, low and deadly.
"Hunters."
The word was a blade. It cut the air. It cut the hearts of every disciple.
The crowd erupted—shouts, denials, terrified questions.
"Impossible!"
"I thought they were just legends—"
"Hunters… here?!"
Elder Wu's expression didn't waver. "You think they are myths? Tales to frighten children? Fools. Those records were not stories. They were warnings, written in blood by our forefathers who first bled against these creatures. When the balance of the Rifts weakens, the Hunters crawl through. They steal Qi. They devour essence. They wear the faces of men."
He raised a hand before the square, and the murmurs died as if smothered.
"And this is not hearsay alone," Elder Wu thundered. "One survivor escaped. Half-dead, broken in body and spirit, but alive enough to speak. He saw the thing with his own eyes. Its form shifting like smoke. Its hands piercing flesh and veins to draw out Qi. He swore upon his soul before the elders. He saw a Hunter."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the proud heirs of the Chen clan, the arrogant disciples of the Zhao family, and the aloof geniuses from hidden sects clenched their fists, their arrogance paling in the shadow of fear.
Elder Wu let the weight of his words press down upon them.
"The Hunters are real. They walk among us now. And only strength will keep you alive." His voice cracked like a whip. "That is why the academy opens its vaults. Not out of kindness. Not out of generosity. But to test who among you can claw your way high enough to survive. The rest… will feed the Hunters."
A shiver ran through the disciples.
Then Elder Wu raised his hand, and with it, the banners behind him unfurled, each marked with glowing runes.
"The Scramble for Resources begins today. You will compete in three trials—Strength. Endurance. Combat. At the end of seven days, the strongest will claim the lion's share of pills, herbs, scrolls, and weapons. The weak will starve."
His gaze sharpened. "Begin your preparations. The first trial starts at dawn tomorrow."
The square erupted into chaos.
Disciples broke into groups, their clan banners raised high. Chen Hao, heir of the Chen clan, stood at the center of his crimson-robed followers. His voice was calm, but carried weight like steel.
"We will dominate the trials," he said. "Not one Chen disciple will fall below the rankings. Do not shame the clan."
The Zhao family huddled together, whispering strategies. Wandering rogue disciples looked pale, knowing they would be devoured without protection. Some rushed to form alliances, while others sharpened blades with trembling hands.
This was no longer just a scramble for resources. It was politics, survival, war by another name.
At the edge of the square, Li Feng stood with arms crossed, eyes calm. Yu Qingxue drifted to his side, her icy robes brushing against his sleeve.
"So," she murmured, her tone unreadable. "They've turned survival into spectacle."
Li Feng's lips curved faintly. "What better way to see who deserves to live?"
Her sharp eyes studied him. "You're calm. Too calm. Everyone else looks like prey facing a predator. You—" She paused. "You look like the predator."
Li Feng didn't answer. He couldn't explain. Not that with every clash, every flare of Qi, fragments would rain into his system like unseen treasure. To him, this wasn't just competition. It was opportunity.
And he would seize it.
The dorms buzzed like a hornet's nest that night.
Some disciples trained until blood trickled from their mouths. Others formed alliances, exchanging oaths sealed with drops of blood. The halls echoed with muttered strategies, blade polishing, and whispered prayers.
In one corner, Li Feng sat cross-legged in silence, the system pulsing before his eyes.
[Fragments: 112.]
[Strength +14, Endurance +9, Sword Intent +6.]
His body hummed with power that hadn't been there days ago. Stronger. Faster. Sharper. And yet… still not enough.
The sect's trials weren't simple contests. They were hunting grounds. If he revealed too much, too fast, the clans would notice. If he revealed too little, he would be trampled.
Still, he whispered to himself, "No matter how deep this pit of wolves, I'll be the one who climbs out."
The next morning, the central arena blazed with banners. Disciples filled the stands, buzzing with anticipation. Elders sat in solemn rows above, their eyes cold and judging.
"The first trial," Elder Wu's voice boomed, "is a test of strength. Each disciple will strike the Stone of Measure. The stronger your blow, the higher your score. The top fifty will advance."
At the center of the arena stood a massive stone pillar. Ancient runes crawled over its surface, glowing faintly, waiting.
One by one, disciples stepped forward.
A Zhao youth roared and slammed his fist into the stone.
BOOM!
The pillar flashed. "Strength: 78."
The crowd murmured.
Another disciple slashed with his blade, Qi roaring. "Strength: 93." Cheers erupted from his clan.
One after another, disciples tested their strength. Names filled the glowing ranking tablet beside the pillar.
When Zhou Tian stepped forward, his sneer was unmistakable. He turned, locking eyes on Li Feng.
"Watch closely, trash," he spat.
He slammed his fist into the pillar.
CRACK!
The runes flared. "Strength: 102."
Gasps erupted. A triple-digit score. Zhou Tian puffed his chest, basking in the attention, his smirk directed at Li Feng.
"Li Feng."
The arena hushed as Elder Wu's voice rang out. Disciples craned their necks.
"That cripple is still here?"
"He'll humiliate himself."
"Pathetic."
Li Feng stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
The pillar loomed before him, humming with dormant power. He placed his palm on its cool surface, and inside his mind—
System Notification:
Would you like to channel 30 Fragments into raw strength for this strike?
His lips curved faintly. "Yes."
He drew back his fist. Silence pressed against the arena.
Then he struck.
BOOOOOM!
The pillar shuddered violently. Dust rained from the arena ceiling. The runes blazed with searing light, brighter than any before.
Numbers appeared, glowing like fire.
"Strength: 137."
The arena exploded.
"Impossible!"
"137? That's higher than inner sect disciples!"
"He was trash last year—how…?!"
On the ranking board, Li Feng's name surged to the top three, glowing like a brand.
He lowered his fist calmly, though his pulse raced. Inside, fragments glittered like embers.
[Strength +6.]
[Sword Intent Fragment +2.]
But his face was cold, giving nothing away.
As he stepped back, his eyes locked with Chen Hao's across the arena.
The Chen heir didn't scowl. He didn't sneer.
He smiled. Faint, sharp, and interested.
That smile was far more dangerous than any hatred.
Yu Qingxue's turn followed. She leaned close before stepping forward, her voice a whisper only he could hear.
"You're not the same Li Feng. Everyone can see it now."
He met her gaze briefly, but said nothing.
Because the truth was, she was right.
When the trial ended, the rankings burned bright across the tablet.
Chen Hao: 145.
Chen disciple: 139.
Li Feng: 137.
For the first time in years, his name stood among the elite.
The square buzzed with disbelief, envy, and dread. Eyes turned toward him—calculating, hungry, dangerous.
Above them all, Elder Wu's voice thundered again.
"The first trial is complete. Tomorrow begins the second—an endurance test in the Shadow Maze."
The crowd erupted once more.
But even as cheers and whispers rose, a cold chime echoed in Li Feng's ear.
[Hidden Quest Unlocked: Survive the Shadow Maze.]
[Warning: A Hunter lurks within.]
Li Feng's fists clenched. The sect wanted competition. The system wanted survival.
And the Hunters… wanted blood.