Relentless

"The final challenger — ranked 173rd, Zhou Tong!" Wei Rong called out, putting everything he had into the announcement.

Somehow it had come down to the very last challenger without anyone fully realizing it. Even Wei Rong himself had to admit the transfer student was terrifying. This wasn't a mob assault — just a series of one-on-one duels — and yet the bodies of those he had defeated could have been stacked into a wall.

When the Fire Hall students heard the final challenger was ranked in the top two hundred, a flicker of renewed hope sparked through the crowd.

Even if Mo Fan somehow managed to squeeze out one last spell, meeting a top-two-hundred fighter now was a completely different matter — there was simply no way he could win. Heaven was fair to Fire Hall after all!

"Zhou Tong's walked into a free win. I should've signed up late and made myself the last one."

"Save the celebrating. A transfer student just plowed through over two hundred of us. I'm not sure I can call myself Fire Hall anymore."

"Better than being completely wiped out!"

"True enough, true enough."

Ranked 173rd, Zhou Tong had become everyone's last hope.

Zhou Tong was a short man with an underbite — his lower teeth jutted over his upper front ones — and a face that was difficult to compliment. To top it off, his small eyes carried a distinct air of self-satisfaction.

He looked at Mo Fan and let out a squeaky, rat-like chuckle. "I thought signing up so late meant I'd miss my shot at a top-hundred ranking," he said. "Didn't expect you'd still be standing."

Zhou Tong's casual tone belied his eyes, which kept drifting — seemingly by accident, but not quite — toward one particular person in the crowd.

That person was Liu Qian.

His relationship with Liu Qian was nothing special, but once Liu Qian learned that he would be the very last challenger, he had asked Zhou Tong for a small favor.

Liu Qian wanted Mo Fan seriously hurt — not just bruised, but the kind of hurt that kept a person bedridden in the Healing Hall for months.

Complete the job, and Liu Qian — a man of considerable wealth — would see him handsomely rewarded.

Liu Qian had never let his grudge against the transfer student go. But since someone was paying him to kick a man while he was already down, this was about as easy as it got. One look at Mo Fan — too exhausted to cast so much as a single spell — told Zhou Tong exactly what kind of deal he was walking into.

Mo Fan stood on the platform, his face gone pale.

The battle had dragged on far too long. His Magical Energy was completely spent, and the wounds on his body were getting worse. Just staying upright this long had taken everything he had.

"Teacher Wei Rong, let's get started — don't give him time to rest," Zhou Tong urged, barely hiding his eagerness to claim his prize.

Wei Rong nodded and opened his mouth to call the match.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice cut through the air.

"Let's call it here for today."

Dean Xiao had appeared without anyone noticing, stepping in just as Wei Rong was about to speak.

"Dean Xiao."

"Dean."

The teachers quickly and politely stepped aside. Though Wei Rong technically fell outside Dean Xiao's jurisdiction as a Fire Hall instructor, the man was still the dean — basic respect was the least he could offer.

"Mo Fan, come down," Dean Xiao said. "There's no need to fight to the bitter end. It won't serve you well here in Fire Hall going forward."

"I suppose you're right," Mo Fan said, and nodded.

"Apologize to Teacher Wei Rong, and offer an apology to the senior Fire Hall students as a whole. You are new here, after all." Dean Xiao was clearly stepping in to manage the whole situation.

"Well... all right." Mo Fan wasn't one to be stubbornly contrary. If Dean Xiao had spoken up, dragging it out any further would only hurt him.

Mo Fan faced Wei Rong, lowered his head in apology, then — following Dean Xiao's direction — bowed before the assembled Fire Hall students as a whole.

The Fire Hall students stood dumbstruck. The Great Demon Lord's bow looked sincere enough, but it was utterly painless — one gesture to the entire crowd, and apparently that was the end of it.

Wasn't he supposed to apologize to each of them individually? How had a single word from Dean Xiao washed the man's slate completely clean?

"Dean Xiao," Wei Rong finally said, lowering his voice, "if he doesn't bow to each of them in person, how is Fire Hall supposed to hold its head up at Pearl Academy?"

"Wei Rong," Dean Xiao murmured in return, "if the fight continues, Zhou Tong may not win."

Gu Han, standing nearby, nodded. He had actually been trying to signal Wei Rong about this from the very beginning.

"He's barely got anything left — how could Zhou Tong possibly lose?" Wei Rong asked, eyebrows raised, frustration bleeding through.

Dean Xiao had no desire for too many people to learn Mo Fan's true abilities. There were things worth keeping concealed ahead of the World Academy Tournament, and too much exposure would be harmful. He leaned close and murmured a few words into Wei Rong's ear.

Wei Rong was no fool. Dean Xiao had been deliberately vague, but even so, a cold sweat broke out down his back.

It didn't take him long to understand why Dean Xiao had stepped in — the man was actually protecting Fire Hall's reputation.

Dean Xiao knew full well that Mo Fan was a Four Elements anomaly. If the fight went on and the stubborn Mo Fan decided to fight with his Shadow Element, Zhou Tong would stand no chance whatsoever. With Mo Fan needed for the World Academy Tournament in the future, Dean Xiao had no wish for that element to be exposed — the Tournament mattered enormously to the entire national academy.

"In that case, the challenges end here for today." Wei Rong wasn't about to push it any further.

Dean Xiao's few words had said enough. Wei Rong wouldn't gamble with Fire Hall's reputation. Mo Fan had already bowed to him and to the students — everyone had a way to step down with some dignity.

"This can't just be swept under the rug!"

"Let Zhou Tong fight him!"

"Right — either most of Fire Hall is trash like he said, or he gets down and apologizes to every last one of us personally."

The Fire Hall students erupted in protest.

They wanted individual apologies — Mo Fan going down the line, one by one. They had lost too much face today. Without something like that, how could they possibly recover it?

"Isn't he supposed to be so arrogant?" one of those he'd defeated called out. "Fine — yes, he's strong, we'll admit that plenty of Fire Hall can't beat him. But he trampled all over us without a care, and now he just gets to walk away like that?"

Mo Fan had already stirred a mob's worth of fury, and now that he was visibly drained and clearly on the verge of losing, nearly everyone was in the mood to squeeze something more out of this.

"Oh, come on — some of you Fire Hall people have a real nerve," Ai Tutu called out from the crowd, where she had been watching since the start. "If I'd spent the whole day taking on over two hundred challengers back to back, I'd have nothing left either. You're really going to sit there demanding a personal apology from each of you? Haven't you embarrassed yourselves enough already?"

"Exactly — maybe he was being kind, going easy on Fire Hall so things wouldn't get even worse, and this is how you repay him? Dean Xiao and the department head both said it's over. You people are just jealous that he outshone everyone today, and now you're clinging to whatever scraps of pride you have left," other students from different departments called out — and plenty of them were squarely on Mo Fan's side.

Fire Hall had always been arrogant, looking down on every other department. Watching them get sorted out by a transfer student today was deeply satisfying.

The more the others said, the more the Fire Hall students seethed — and the more determined they became that Mo Fan could not simply walk away.

A single blanket apology meant nothing. They wanted to watch that insufferably smug bastard lower his head in front of each and every one of them.