Not only Zhao Meng was caught off guard—everyone present was equally stunned.
Even Jiang Huoer hadn’t expected this.
As a War God Mark Cultivator at the Second Stage Initial rank, he’d clearly sensed the terrifying power coiled within Zhao Meng’s first ultimate move the moment it launched. He’d imagined countless ways he might be defeated—yet never this. When the attack finally struck him, it simply… vanished. Without a trace.
“Huh…?”
Seeing Zhao Meng frozen for a split second, Jiang Huoer seized his chance.
“Little Black—now!”
The black cannon barrel locked onto the stunned Second Stage Ninth Rank warrior.
“Your attacks end here!” he roared. The cannon fired—
A golden cannonball!
Not just any gold. A luminous, impossible gold never seen before in any War God Mark technique.
“!!!!!!”
Another wave of chaos erupted.
“That golden…” Zhu XiuRong swayed, dizzy. Pang Dun felt it too—that eerie sense of déjà vu.
“You feel it too, Pang Dun?”
They exchanged glances and nodded silently.
Meanwhile, Yi Po Tian of the Four Kings stared, eyes wide.
“This… how is this possible…?”
“What is it?” Shu Xingfeng asked, unsettled. He’d never seen Yi Po Tian so lost in thought.
“Nothing… or not nothing. I’m not certain yet. But how could—” Yi Po Tian’s voice dropped as he sank back into confusion. *No conclusions until I understand everything.*
“That kid is definitely—”
Undeniably strange. Everything about Jiang Huoer defied belief. Phenomena unseen since their birth as War God Mark Cultivators now flooded out all at once. It was overwhelming. Unacceptable.
“Heaven—!” someone from Class A shrieked again. “What am I even seeing?!”
But the shock ran deeper. That golden cannonball radiated more than wonder—it carried a tangible, chilling threat. A threat they all felt in their bones.
A threat of power.
A threat of consequence.
A threat woven into its very gold.
Zhao Meng sensed the danger surging toward him—a force that could cleave through flesh and bone. The sheer menace packed into that single shot made his instincts scream. Normally, a Second Stage Initial attack wouldn’t register as threatening. It shouldn’t *contain* threat. Yet here it was. He felt it.
He barely dodged.
Whatever lurked inside that golden shell terrified him. The cannonball slammed into the earth—
***BOOM—!!!***
Just a crater. Any War God Mark Cultivator could do that.
***Haaah—***
Zhao Meng gasped for air. *Like I just escaped death?* He didn’t understand why he felt this way. This was Jiang Huoer—a mere Second Stage Initial.
But Zhao Meng’s dodge ignited Class D.
*When?* they thought, hearts pounding. *When did Class D’s attacks force Class A to flinch? This is our strength!*
*Jiang Huoer—he’s ours!*
Everything they’d dreamed of, everything they’d craved to feel—it was happening. Through Jiang Huoer.
“JIANG—! HUO—! ER—!”
The chant erupted. Roared. Swelled like a tidal wave as more voices joined, answering the call:
“JIANG HUOER! JIANG HUOER! JIANG HUOER!”
The roar grew deafening. The fight had barely begun—one exchange—and yet Class D’s fervor drowned the arena. Class A stayed silent. No cheers. Not after Shu Xingfeng’s words. Not after the Four Kings’ clear stance. They opposed Shu Xingfeng, yes—but they’d also shown disdain for Zhao Meng. That disdain was enough to silence Class A. Being isolated by Zhao Meng was survivable. But exile by the Four Kings? Shu Xingfeng’s threat to remove Zhao Meng from Class A wasn’t empty. The Four Kings held that power. They could exile anyone.
So no one dared cheer for Zhao Meng.
Especially not after sharp-eyed students caught the Four Kings’ gazes—fixed on Jiang Huoer with intense, burning interest. That sealed Class A’s silence.
Still, no one believed Jiang Huoer would win. His displays were astonishing, yes—but the gap remained undeniable. Eight ranks separated them. A gulf between heaven and earth. A year’s worth of cultivation difference. No technique could bridge that chasm overnight.
Jiang Huoer’s next attack came instantly. Zhao Meng had dodged the first golden cannonball—but the second was already screaming toward him.
