Chapter 44
Chapter 44: The Principal Cracked
The principal stared at the students now standing right in front of him, blocking his view, and then at his precious VVVIP front-row seat.
The principal: ?
Wait.
What was the point of buying VVVIP if anyone could just stand in front of it?
Was the benefit… the letters?
He grabbed a student by the sleeve. “Classmate, how much was a regular ticket?”
The student answered without thinking. “Fifty.”
The principal: …
He counted on his fingers like he was arguing with math itself—then slapped his own mouth twice.
Serves you right. Serves you right.
Why did you have to ask?
If you didn’t know, you could stay comfortably confused. Now that you knew, you were going to cough blood from sheer rage.
Grandpa Sun finally burst out laughing. He patted the principal’s shoulder like he’d just solved a mystery. “I think I understand why you had to pay out of pocket.”
Second time around.
The principal: …
Nearby, Chen Tong and Chen Miaomiao had also heard the price. Their faces went stiff as the realization landed.
They’d been scammed too.
Especially Chen Tong. He looked like he wanted to vault the railing and strangle Qian Qi with his bare hands.
That money-grubbing freak.
That cash-obsessed parasite.
Why did she have to squeeze him for even two hundred?
It wasn’t the money. It was the feeling—like choking on a fly and a mouthful of bitter medicine at the same time. Disgusting. Miserable. Impossible to swallow.
And worse… he still didn’t have Qian Qi’s lightbrain.
Without it, he’d lose her supply channel.
Down on the plaza, Qian Qi swallowed the defense fruit and bolted toward the iron bear beast.
It wasn’t fully grown. An adult iron bear beast could reach six or seven meters, but this one was only about three—still a juvenile.
Even so, it looked like a moving wall. Stone-hard gray scales armored its fists, elbows, and knees. Dark, matted fur clung together like plates, turning its entire body into a thick defensive shell. Its eyes were bloodshot, brutal, hungry, and the ugly folds of flesh on its bear-shaped head made human fear rise on instinct.
The students gripped the railing, tense as they watched Qian Qi—tiny as a peanut—charge straight at that monster.
“She’s really going in!”
“I heard she’s an ordinary person. Like… no awakened skill at all?”
“Isn’t she in Magic Plant Department? If she had a skill, why would she be stuck in the most unpopular major?”
“What the hell is she doing—”
Qian Qi slammed on the brakes directly in front of the iron bear beast. She reached into her pocket.
Then she pulled out her middle finger.
The crowd: ?
“Come on!” Qian Qi yelled, shameless and loud. “Get over here—!”
The iron bear beast’s face sank like it understood the insult perfectly. It roared and smashed its fist into the ground.
The plaza floor detonated.
A ridge of earth spikes erupted upward from its knuckles, packed with dense earth-element power. Jagged spears burst out in a wide sweep, shooting straight from beneath Qian Qi’s feet and lunging at her like a trap snapping shut.
The stands went dead-silent for a heartbeat—
—and then Qian Qi went, “Biu—!”
She launched into the sky.
The crowd: ?
They watched her sail out of the arena, shrink into a distant black dot, and vanish beyond the plaza.
For a second, no one breathed.
“T-that’s it?”
“d-rank magic beasts are terrifying…”
“Is she even alive?” someone whispered. “Wasn’t defense fruit supposed to block damage? Was it fake?”
The earth spikes alone filled most of the arena. The visual impact was brutal enough to make even brave hearts hesitate.
Could they really enter d-rank dungeons after graduating?
d-rank magic beasts were terrifying.
“No wonder awakened out there only clear e-rank dungeons… I used to call them cowards…”
“Even Wang Qing He with a d-rank skill probably wouldn’t survive three moves…”
“If d-rank is this bad, what about c-rank? b-rank? Do humans even have a future?”
The questions came out raw and trembling.
They hadn’t stepped into society yet. They didn’t have answers. So they turned to the principal behind them like he was the last sturdy pillar in a collapsing house.
“Principal… when we graduate, can we really bring hope to humanity?”
Or would they fade into the crowd like so many awakened outside, swallowed by the gray?
The principal froze.
He knew the dungeon situation better than anyone. Sending these kids into anything above e-rank was no different from sending them to die.
But he couldn’t say that.
His jaw tightened. His silence stretched until it hurt. Then he stood.
“Even if we can’t bring new hope,” he said, voice low and steady, “we still have to pass hope on.”
Eyes reddened across the stands.
They heard what he wasn’t saying. They were weak. Too weak.
e-rank awakened might be the most common, but next to the ocean of ordinary people, they were still only a drop. And awakened numbers were far smaller than the number of dungeons—not to mention the countless magic creatures inside them.
How were they supposed to fight four hands with only two?
Some people thought entering Awakeners University meant a guaranteed future. In truth, it was like putting on Kong Yi Ji’s long gown—looking bright and polished while your feet stayed stuck in mud.
They couldn’t protect most people. Sometimes they couldn’t even protect their own families.
And there was no shortcut.
Besides grinding through sparring matches and killing dungeon bosses for scraps of strength, the only other path was for beast tamers to contract magic beasts and gain more awakened skills.
That was it.
As if the world had already decided humanity’s ending—and was stingy enough to deny them even the smallest mercy.
The mood in the plaza sank, heavy and gray.
The principal looked at the students—faces fallen, courage cracking—and felt helplessness twist in his gut.
The world looked bright on the surface, but underneath, it was already rotting.
No one could find a road through the gray fog. Maybe from the beginning, humanity had chosen the wrong path… and kept walking it anyway.
Even the principal himself didn’t know where the road led.
And then—
A loud, sharp voice split the air like an axe, cleaving straight through the gloom.
“I, Qian Han San, am back—!”
Everyone whipped their heads around.
From far off, a tiny figure tore toward the plaza. Under thousands of stares, Qian Qi came pedaling in on a beat-up bicycle, legs pumping like she was fleeing death itself.
“Hey, bro!” she yelled between breaths, cursing as she rode. “Can you show a little sportsmanship? You launched me so damn far—getting back is exhausting!”
“And look!” she shouted at the stands like it was their fault. “Half the ten minutes are already gone! I wanted to show my viewers how amazing defense fruit is for longer!”
And the wildest part?
From head to toe, she didn’t have a single scratch.