Finn was standing next to his roommates in the coliseum. The past days had been grueling, but he felt stronger, more focused. Zorak, however, was gloomy, muttering about his merit points. He had received 81, less than the others. Lyrian had 82, and Mountain Ridge had 89. Finn guessed their scores had something to do with their performance in the brawl.
As they walked, Finn found himself talking to Lyrian about martial arts. Apparently, his roommates had been impressed by his abilities. Lyrian asked about Finn's affinity and intent with the Fist. Finn admitted he wasn't entirely sure what it was—just that he understood something intrinsic about it. He couldn't fully explain it.
They discussed their status screens, speculating on what the different attributes and affinities might mean. The details were still vague, but they were beginning to piece things together.
Meanwhile, Gorath appeared overlooking the crowd, assessing the students. Only about two-thirds remained, with the rest still in the infirmary. Gorath didn't care about those milking their stay in the infirmary; in two days, the goblin fight would cull the weak. The system's goal for him was to raise strong cultivators, and Gorath was confident in his clan's methods.
It might take tens of thousands of years, but if Gorath could live to see the day, he would be well rewarded as headmaster.
He reflected on the potential within the remaining students. If he could cultivate even one or two apex cultivators, it would be worth the initial losses. The system offered substantial rewards for schools that produced apex cultivators from newly merged worlds, including a year of protection while the reward was absorbed.
Gorath's clan specialized in forming firm foundations, a process that required culling the weak. However, they needed to ensure a high enough survival rate to meet system requirements. He recalled an ancestor who had culled 90 percent of his school, resulting in five apex cultivators. It was extreme, but the system had since set rules to ensure higher survivability.
Gorath's voice boomed across the coliseum. "Sit," he commanded, infusing a small part of his domain, steel, into his voice. The students complied, feeling an irresistible force compel them to sit.
"I am impressed by your performance in the school-wide brawl," Gorath began, his eyes scanning the crowd. Some students grumbled inwardly, having been forced into the fight.
"Your reward is the end of hell week. The next two days will be dedicated to weapons training. At the end of these two days, each of you will face a life-and-death battle with a starving goblin."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "You can now sense spiritual energy and see your status. I will say this only once: do not absorb any energy. Let your medicinal baths strengthen you passively and forget about your status for now. You will receive proper instruction at a later date. Focus on honing your will, learning martial arts, and developing your mortal body."
Gorath's voice grew stern. "Three years is a limited time. We must use every minute wisely. It is in my interest to see you become strong cultivators capable of conquering hard dungeons. This school is not the easiest, but it will establish a firm and robust foundation for your future."
He looked at the students intently. "Now, I want each of you to choose a sparring partner from another race and not from your room. Hold their right hand for three seconds to seal the partnership for the rest of the term."
Gorath finished his address and, using a movement technique, disappeared from sight, leaving the students to follow their system prompts.
Finn scanned the crowd for a sparring partner, his mind already formulating a plan. Lyrian pointed out a male dark elf from the room that had assisted them during the brawl in the pagoda. Finn remembered the dark elf as being decently strong, so he had no qualms about partnering with him.
As Finn was about to approached the male dark elf, a female dark elf with silver hair and piercing violet eyes stepped in front of him. Her gaze was direct and unwavering.
"I'd like to be your partner," she stated bluntly. Finn noticed Lyrian and the other dark elf male exchanging jealous glances. He sighed inwardly; with her striking looks, she was bound to attract trouble, and he wanted to focus on becoming a strong cultivator.
"I already have a partner, but thanks for the offer," Finn replied, turning his back on the female dark elf to hold hands with the male dark elf.
Before Finn could complete the handshake, he felt his feet swept from under him. In a flash, his right arm was locked between the female dark elf's legs in an arm hold. She held his hand firmly, and he could tell she was holding on for dear life.
Finn struggled to free himself, but she had all the leverage. Anger surged through him, and he tried to use his fist intent, but the angle was horrible. Mountain Ridge and Zorak had already walked off, so they weren't around to help.
The dark elf male and Lyrian attempted to free Finn, but three seconds quickly passed.
A status alert appeared in Finn's vision:
**Sparring Partner: Lythana**
Finn's frustration boiled over. "Fucking bitch," he muttered.
As he stood up, rubbing his arm, he shot Lythana a glare. She merely smirked, her violet eyes glinting with satisfaction.
He looked at Lythana, his voice low and menacing. "You're going to pay for that."
Lythana smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Just like you got out of the arm hold?"
Their gazes locked, the air between them thick with unspoken challenges. Finn, a few inches taller, looked down at her, his jaw tightening and muscles coiling with the urge to retaliate. But he held himself back. Lythana's eyes bore into his, unyielding and fierce. This wasn't just a physical challenge; it was a test of resolve and willpower.
They stood there, locked in a silent, intense stare, neither willing to back down. The tension was palpable. Finn's anger simmered beneath the surface, but Lythana met it head-on, unflinching.