Chapter 49 – Hunting

The simulated forest shimmered with digital life—light filtered through emerald canopies in dancing motes, birdsong flitted like whispers between branches, and an earthy scent hung heavy in the air, so authentic that Qiang Ming almost forgot it was fake.

He walked slowly, deliberately, through a clearing drenched in sunlit haze. His bare chest gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat, muscles shifting like taut cords beneath skin hardened by years of combat and tempered pain. Scars traced pale lines over his body—some old, others less so—each one a story carved during his years in Slaughter Barony.

In his right hand, the Blackstone Abyss Hammer hung low, its weight seemingly effortless in his grip. Despite the tranquility of the scene, there was a sharp glint in his violet eyes—focused, alert, and hungry.

It had been a while since he'd been allowed to cut loose. His soul yearned for battle.

This "battle royale" test to determine the 1st Grade's leadership committee was perfect.

"Should I go for ten… or twenty?" he mused aloud, smirking faintly.

The forest rustled behind him, quiet as a whisper. A presence flickered—cunning, quick, and utterly confident in its approach.

Qiang Ming didn't stop walking.

From above, a blur of motion shot downward like a blade through silk. The figure descended swiftly and silently, his Martial Spirit—a sleek, glowing black katana—gleaming in hand. The boy's name was Shu Meng, Rank 30, a three-ring elder with decent agility and a dangerous edge. His Martial Spirit, Shadow Katana, was well-known among their class for its speed-based assassination techniques.

His foot slashed through the air in a powerful arc, the edge of his blade aimed squarely at the nape of Qiang Ming's neck. A precise strike meant to end the fight instantly.

But just before it could land, Qiang Ming stepped to the side.

The evasion wasn't dramatic. He didn't even look back. He simply... moved, as if he knew the attack was coming from the very beginning.

Shu Meng's smirk shattered as he landed off-balance.

Qiang Ming finally turned his head slightly, just enough to let his voice drift behind him. "A shame," he said, tone dry. "Had you not encountered me, you might've made the top twenty."

Shu Meng's face twisted into a snarl, his pride wounded far deeper than his body. "Bastard!"

He surged forward to retaliate, katana sweeping low in a blur—only to freeze in place.

Two ghostly arms, bone-white and wrapped in murky black fog, had erupted from Qiang Ming's back. The Lich's Hands. They clamped down on Shu Meng's shoulders with unrelenting force, locking him in place like an insect caught in a spider's web.

His eyes went wide. "W-What the hell—!?"

Too late.

The Blackstone Abyss Hammer arced upward like a falling star.

It crashed into Shu Meng's face with a sound like a thunderclap. His body flew backwards in a blur of limbs, dissolving into golden light mid-air as the simulated battlefield ejected him.

Qiang Ming exhaled through his nose. He didn't even blink. The hammer returned to his side, and he kept walking.

"One down," he muttered. "Let's see how long the rest can last."

His feet carried him deeper into the forest, weaving between moss-covered trunks and low-hanging vines. Every few steps, his sharp gaze darted into the undergrowth. Faint sounds betrayed movement—others were hunting as well.

He wanted them to come.

Far above, in the Ascension Chamber's observation deck, Chen Yi and Wu Zhangkong stood before a bank of translucent screens, each one displaying a different part of the simulation.

Students flickered across the displays, engaged in combat, ambushes, or careful planning. But one particular screen had caught both of their attention.

"That one's already eliminated four," Chen Yi noted, her arms crossed.

Wu Zhangkong gave the faintest nod.

"So," she continued, voice low, "Who do you think is going to win?"

"Tang Wulin," he replied without hesitation.

Chen Yi raised an eyebrow. "Even with Qiang Ming in the running?"

"Tang Wulin's power lies not just in strength, but in instinct and restraint. He grows under pressure."

She didn't argue, but her gaze lingered on the screen displaying Qiang Ming. He stood calmly in a clearing now, eyes closed, breathing slow. No enemies were in sight, but that only made him more dangerous.

'He doesn't need a team,' she thought. 'He is a one-man team.'

Qiang Ming knelt by a stream, letting the cool simulation water run through his fingers. His instincts prickled, and he smirked.

He didn't stand.

A projectile zipped toward his head from a hidden sniper's nest in the trees above.

The moment it neared, Lich's Hands erupted once again from his back, catching the dart mid-flight and crushing it to dust.

From the treetops, a gasp. "Shit—!"

Qiang Ming's eyes shot open.

He leapt upward, bounding off a branch like a launched missile.

The hidden student—a girl with a mechanical crossbow Martial Spirit—barely had time to register the figure hurtling toward her before Qiang Ming grabbed the branch she sat on and hurled it downward, snapping it clean off the tree. She screamed, tumbling with the splintered wood.

By the time she hit the ground, dazed, Qiang Ming was already descending. The Blackstone Abyss Hammer came down hard, not on her body—but on the ground beside her head, cracking the earth and sending dust into the air.

She screamed again and vanished in light.

Another one down.

On another screen, Tang Wulin and Gu Yue were coordinating their efforts, using clever traps and elemental synergy to push other competitors into checkmate situations.

Wu Zhangkong nodded approvingly.

But when he looked back to Qiang Ming's screen, his eyes narrowed slightly. The boy was sitting again—on a rock now, meditating.

Not hiding. Not running. Meditating.

As if this was all a warm-up.

"He's enjoying this," Chen Yi observed. "Look at him."

Wu Zhangkong gave a slight, almost imperceptible sigh. "That's what worries me."

In the simulation, Qiang Ming stretched his arms overhead and cracked his neck. His muscles rippled with motion.

"Six down," he whispered. "Still not even winded."

He stood slowly, letting the hammer rest on his shoulder like a crown.

"All right, 1st Grade," he called out to the forest around him. "Let's see who's worth the title of President."

And with a grin as wide as a crescent moon, Qiang Ming walked into the forest once again.

The hunt was far from over.