Chapter 45
Chapter 45: A Dead, Rotten Salted Fish with a Peaceful Face
The plaza erupted.
Qian Qi wasn’t dead?
The principal’s eyes went wide. He twisted to look at the old seniors sitting beside him—and his gaze landed on Elder Zheng, the one with an a-rank healing skill.
Elder Zheng sat like a mountain, stroking his beard, calm and thoughtful.
The principal’s heart thudded.
If Qian Qi had been seriously injured, Elder Zheng would’ve moved immediately. He could sense damage in the body—he wouldn’t sit through it.
But Elder Zheng hadn’t budged.
Which meant Qian Qi hadn’t been hurt at all.
What the hell was Qian Qi?
Why did she keep doing the impossible like it was just another weekday?
The stands went feral.
Students screamed her name until their throats went raw, cheering like they were watching a miracle walk around in human skin.
“Qian Qi! Qian Qi! Qian Qi!”
“Big Shot is fucking insane!”
“Anyone who doubts Big Shot Qian Qi’s products again is my enemy! I’ll believe her forever!”
Their hot blood surged back like a tide. They looked at her like she was the future made flesh.
And Qian Qi, to her credit, did not disappoint.
Under the iron bear beast’s relentless attacks, she stayed unbroken. Her rough little face held blinding confidence—like she was the one doing the beating.
Her “image,” however, was… questionable.
One moment, the iron bear beast grabbed her and kneaded her in its fist like dough.
The next, it slammed her into the ground and stomped her with its stinking feet.
Then it lifted sharp earth spikes like drills and hammered her tiny body over and over.
And through all of it, Qian Qi lay there like a dead, rotten salted fish—arms crossed over her stomach, face peaceful, as if she’d fallen asleep in the middle of disaster.
Not a bruise. Not a cut. Nothing.
Inside her head, she had exactly one thought:
When I get off the field, I’m making Chen Tong reimburse me for these filthy clothes.
Up in the stands, Chen Tong leaned forward at the railing, eyes burning with greedy light as he watched Qian Qi take a d-rank beating without taking damage.
“This is… incredible,” he murmured, excitement shaking in his voice.
He had to get her supply channel.
He’d replace her. He’d become the one everyone worshiped.
Behind him, Chen Miaomiao’s face had gone pale. She listened to the cheers raining down on Qian Qi, and her eyes filled with jealousy so thick it almost tasted bitter.
She couldn’t understand it.
Why did Qian Qi—who everyone used to hate—get to crawl out of the gutter and become something bright?
Qian Qi was that lunatic who destroyed her classmates’ magic plant homework.
Chen Miaomiao had seen it with her own eyes, late one night.
Qian Qi’s eyes had been bloodshot. Her face twisted. She tore through the magic plants like she was possessed, laughing and crying at the same time, her voice rising and falling over the ruined plant bodies until it made your skin crawl.
And then the next day, she’d stroll around like nothing happened, as if she’d forgotten everything. When the victims accused her, she’d explode—fighting, shouting, insisting they were “framing” her, as if violence could prove innocence.
Someone like that… why did the world crown her a miracle?
Chen Miaomiao hated her. She hated Qian Qi’s uselessness, and she hated her stubborn pride even more.
In this society, the awakened and the rich sat on top. Poor people survived by kneeling and licking blades.
Qian Qi was everything Chen Miaomiao wasn’t—impulsive, pure, fearless. She fought back when mocked. She protected the last scraps of her dignity like they mattered.
And Chen Miaomiao?
She smiled through humiliation. She bowed through injustice. She clawed for every scrap with dirty hands and polite words.
Worst of all, she envied Qian Qi.
Even as an orphan with nothing—maybe even “broken” in the head—Qian Qi still had a principal who sent her living money every month, who checked in on her with gentle concern.
Chen Miaomiao could’ve stood aside and watched Qian Qi fall into something even worse. She could’ve even profited from Qian Qi’s death.
But Chen Tong ruined everything.
He’d promised Qian Qi would die.
Instead, he’d helped build Qian Qi into this shining thing everyone cheered for.
Her plans turned to ash.
She dug her nails into her palm until it hurt, bit her lip, and forced her jealousy into a cold, proud snort.
Then she turned and limped away from Beast-Taming Plaza.
She wouldn’t let this end.
She would live better—longer—than Qian Qi.
After she left, the timer hit its final seconds.
“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven—!”
The students counted down in a roar, hearts racing, waiting for Qian Qi to prove that defense fruit meant hope. Waiting for her to tell them they weren’t doomed to be Kong Yi Ji, trapped in a long gown they could never take off—but young soldiers who could wear armor, bleed, and hold the line for humanity’s future.
The last second fell.
The match should have stopped.
But the iron bear beast didn’t stop.
It raised its fist and smashed down toward Qian Qi’s head.
The stands sucked in a collective breath. Screams tore loose—“Watch out!”—as if volume could change fate.
Chen Tong’s hands clenched the railing so hard his knuckles went white. He shouted too, voice cracking as he demanded the beast tamer he’d planted stop the attack.
Fuck—he forgot to set up Plan B.
Qian Qi couldn’t die now. He still didn’t have her lightbrain.
Down on the arena floor, Qian Qi had her back to everyone.
She looked up at the iron fist falling like a wrecking ball, and the corner of her mouth lifted into a calm, eerie smile.
She knew it.
Chen Tong would absolutely pull tricks mid-match and look for a chance to kill her.
But did he really think she’d come in unprepared?
The defense fruit she’d been “using” wobbled under her tongue, hidden at the root. She hadn’t swallowed it at all. Her hands clenched into fists, ready to meet the strike head-on.
She didn’t want to expose her trump card, but she also didn’t want to waste money. So she decided to test it—see if her d-minus rank strength could take this one hit.
And if it didn’t work?
She could always lie. Claim she’d eaten a second defense fruit.
From the stands, it looked like a last, desperate struggle—thin arms lifting against the beast’s thick limb, mantis versus cart, doomed on sight.
Some students couldn’t bear it and shut their eyes.
The principal’s mind flashed through a thousand calculations. Hurting a contract beast would offend Beast-Taming College. d-rank beast tamers had bright futures. Saving an ordinary person might not be “worth it” in the eyes of power.
But Qian Qi’s potions and defense fruit were too important.
He couldn’t let her die.
In the split second of his hesitation, Su Ang moved.
The silver-haired young man blurred forward, eyes dark and sharp.
The next instant, the iron bear beast clutched its head and howled, staggering as if something had stabbed into its brain.
Qian Qi’s fists relaxed immediately.
She lifted her hand and—smack—slapped the beast’s round, fat butt.
It jiggled.
Qian Qi grinned, wicked and delighted. “Damn. That’s got some bounce~”
The crowd: …
Big Shot was seriously messed up.
The north gate lifted. Uncle Li rang an electric bell hard enough to make it shriek, urging the beast tamer off the field. The Beast-Taming Department senior steadied himself and hurriedly pulled his contract beast away.
Whether the job succeeded or failed, he’d helped. He didn’t owe Chen Tong anything anymore.
Qian Qi dusted herself off and climbed back up to the stands amid thunderous cheers. She snatched a small tin box from Su Xing Le’s arms.
Then she casually spat out the defense fruit she’d been hiding in her mouth, wiped it clean, and stuffed it back into her pocket.
If you could save it, save it. One defense fruit was worth tens of thousands.
She picked up the microphone again, blew at it like it had dust, cleared her throat, and prepared to speak.
The crowd quieted, eager, eyes shining.
They were ready for a fiery, blood-stirring speech. Something heroic. Something that would sell them hope.
Qian Qi raised the mic and said, deadpan:
“A woman protected by the villain.”