“They shouldn’t be! But she’s managing it!”
Lin Zhaoxia clearly felt the pressure.
She had planned for Li Yang to be tricky, but not this tricky.
Every time she tried to get ahead, Li Yang shifted her rhythm like a mirage—dodging, redirecting, then countering with just enough force to break the tempo but not overcommit.
It was… artful.
The barrage chat blew up again:
“She’s fighting like water—yielding, redirecting, then striking!”
“It’s that Natural Heart Sutra, isn’t it? She’s syncing her techniques with natural rhythm!”
“This isn’t just strategy. She’s flowing.”
Someone joked:
“Nature Department finally living up to the name—she’s literally going with the flow.”
Even Lin Zhaoxia’s expression shifted.
For the first time, her calm and composed eyes narrowed slightly.
She was starting to sweat.
And just then—
“Boom!”
A sudden feint from Li Yang broke through her guard. Not with overwhelming force—but by misleading timing.
A split-second delay that made Lin Zhaoxia react early, opening herself to a shoulder strike that staggered her half a step.
It wasn’t fatal.
But in a match like this, half a step was everything.
Li Yang seized the moment.
Blade flashed.
Red mist surged.
She spun, vanished, then reappeared directly behind Lin Zhaoxia—
—and slashed.
Clean.
Precise.
Not deadly, but decisive.
The scoring system lit up.
Winner: Li Yang.
For a moment, the entire arena was silent.
Then—
Boom.
A downpour of golden wheat rained across the livestream screen.
The audience erupted into cheers.
The chat exploded:
“SHE DID IT!”
“AGRONOMY SUPREMACY!!”
“LI YANG GODDESS!”
“CALL HER QUEEN OF NATURAL COMBOS!”
Even Yu Hongyuan screamed so loud he nearly passed out.
Feng Yiqiao covered his ears and sighed:
“He’s going to lose his voice again.”
Zhong Kun looked like he’d swallowed a bitter pill.
“Impossible… Lin Zhaoxia was supposed to win.”
Li Yang stood calmly in the middle of the arena, breathing heavily, blood still trickling down her arm—but her eyes were bright.
She’d done it.
She wasn’t just protecting Agronomy anymore.
She was claiming its place at the top.
She and Lin Zhaoxia are practically neck and neck in terms of cultivation and Star Skills.
So right now, it’s all about who can control their Starshine Power better…”
“Li Yang has a slightly higher mental stat, which gives her a bit more precision over Starshine, but Lin Zhaoxia’s Star Weapon absolutely outclasses Li Yang’s broken blade. So all in all… they’re still even.”
“Lin Zhaoxia seems to only have three Star Skills, but that’s actually specialization at lower levels. She doesn’t waste Starshine on extra skills, which even helps her trigger a double-power ‘Frenzy’ faster!”
“Li Yang’s Barkskin may be a solid defensive skill, but if she uses it against Lin Zhaoxia, she’s going to lose the upper hand. Not only will it waste her Starshine, but it’ll also slow down her chance to build a double Frenzy!”
The upperclassmen all knew how Frenzy worked.
Some were from noble families too.
They might not be as monstrously talented as the Class of 301’s monsters, but they had the experience and insight to understand exactly what was happening.
This kind of double-effect Frenzy doesn’t just trigger randomly.
It requires massive blood loss—not just superficial injury, but enough to force your body into a desperate, survival-driven overdrive.
Only then could your Star Skills resonate and enter that state of true frenzy.
The duel between Lin Zhaoxia and Li Yang had actually become very simple:
Whoever triggered double Frenzy first, would win.
Speed was the deciding factor in explosive-style combat.
But only if you had enough “Voidbreaks” (the rapid-strike skill) would you get to use the finishing move “Execution” early enough to win.
This combo sounded simple… but in reality, it was brutally hard to pull off.
It demanded absurd talent, insane practice, and a chilled, focused mind.
Lin Zhaoxia had managed to master it all in just a month—thanks to her own “Heaven’s Luck.”
But what about Li Yang?
No matter how hard she trained, she couldn’t max out skill mastery in such a short time.
And yet… Li Yang had the brains.
She realized that Barkskin had become her biggest weakness.
And not only did she not use it—she weaponized the expectation of it.
Lin Zhaoxia clearly expected her to tank a hit with Barkskin.
But Li Yang took the hit head-on.
She initiated Frenzy first.
Lin Zhaoxia clenched her Moon Eclipse blade tighter.
Her weapon reacted to her emotion, glowing brighter—no longer just deep blue, but edging into a violet hue.
She’d been looking forward to this fight from the start.
Now she was excited—and that excitement was the final spark needed to ignite double Frenzy.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
They collided again—movement so fast that even blinking felt like missing fireworks.
“Wait, if all it takes is bleeding, couldn’t they just, like… stand there and get hit a few times?” someone in the crowd whispered.
“You think it’s that easy? One second of letting your guard down and you’re not just bleeding—you’re OUT.”
“Damn… so they have to control the damage?”
“Exactly. That’s why most people never master this Frenzy—controlled injury is way harder than it sounds.”
They needed to attack hard.
They needed to take hits, but not too many.
Most of all, they needed to stay fully immersed—mind, body, and soul—in the heat of the battle.
Eyes only for each other.
Hearts pounding only for the fight.
Only in that pure, unshakable state of battle passion, could they unleash the full power of Frenzy.
“AHHHH!” someone shouted from the crowd, “They both triggered double Frenzy!!”
A red mist erupted around them.
Their blood evaporated in an instant from sheer heat.
Both Lin Zhaoxia and Li Yang triggered their double Frenzy—at the exact same time.
Who was stronger?
Who was faster?
The whole crowd held their breath, staring without blinking.
Even the livestream’s barrage went silent.
No one typed.
No one sent gifts.
All eyes were locked on that one critical moment.
“Voidbreaks” flashed across the stage like a meteor shower.
Some thought—maybe it’s a tie?
Would they both pull off Execution at the same time?
Even Professor Xu was preparing to call a draw.
But with his ultra-high mental power, he caught something—
Li Yang’s star apertures pulsed.
That little girl…
And then—time froze.
Lin Zhaoxia hit all seven Voidbreaks and was just about to activate “Execution”—
But Li Yang vanished.
She used—Shadow Cloak.
Everyone—from freshmen to upperclassmen, even the secretly watching professors—gasped.
This was suicide.
Shadow Cloak interrupts all active skills.
Li Yang’s double Frenzy would vanish.
Her combo would collapse.
There was no way she could re-trigger it.
She had the discipline to withhold Barkskin…
So why now? Why use Shadow Cloak now?!
A storm of questions surged in people’s minds—
But in real time, not even 0.1 seconds had passed.
Suddenly, Li Yang reappeared behind Lin Zhaoxia.
And not only was Frenzy still active—
Her Voidbreak combo was still going.
Shadow Cloak hadn’t interrupted anything.
She’d used it in a new way—a brief phased dash, disappearing and striking from behind without cancelling the combo.
Seven Voidbreaks sliced the air apart.
Everyone froze.
And then they heard the cold, echoing call of her final move—
“Execution.”
Li Yang activated it first.
“STOP!”
Professor Xu shouted.
The match froze.
Everyone looked up.
In midair—
Li Yang floated, blade still glowing.
Behind her, Lin Zhaoxia was turning, stunned.
Then—
Applause erupted.
Freshmen stared, mouths open.
Everyone rose to their feet.
Even Star Combat students forgot their loss, clapping so hard their palms turned red.
“Too beautiful!”
“Li Yang is amazing!”
“Agronomy supremacy!”
Someone yelled, “LI YANG COME TO OUR DEPARTMENT!!”
“Dean, GET HER A CONTRACT!”
Even the Spirit Department was losing it, raining golden wheat everywhere in the stream.
That cold, lonely blood moon in the corner? Faded away.
Professor Xu ended the stasis and sighed:
“Winner: Li Yang.”
Both girls collapsed on stage, having spent every last drop of energy.
The red mist cleared; blood surged more freely now.
They turned their heads slightly to look at each other.
Lin Zhaoxia smiled faintly and said,
“You win.”
Li Yang tilted her head, smiling gently.
“You look really pretty when you smile.”
It was the first time she’d seen Lin Zhaoxia smile.
Usually calm and silent, fierce and dominant in battle—but never smiling.
Until now.
At this moment, Lin Zhaoxia’s face was stained with blood and sweat—she looked utterly disheveled, yet her smile shone like the sun.
…
In that instant, it truly felt like summer had lit up everyone’s heart.
Lin Zhaoxia was momentarily stunned, but then her smile grew even brighter.
Meanwhile, a medical officer from the Auxiliary Star Division had rushed onto the stage.
The one who approached Liyang was still the same senior sister from before.
Liyang couldn’t help but ask again, “Teacher, is this second treatment also covered?”
The medical teacher tapped her gently on the forehead and said, “Don’t worry. Worst case, I’ll make a free house call.”
Liyang’s eyes lit up, though she said, “Ah, that’s too much—how embarrassing.”
The healer had already begun channeling healing star energy into her wounds.
Through the warm, white star glow, she handed her a pain-relief pill and said, “If you didn’t look so happy saying that, I might’ve actually believed you were embarrassed.”
“Cough.”
Liyang popped the pill into her mouth and gave up pretending.
She said solemnly, “Teacher, kids from poor families grow up fast. I gotta stretch every penny.”
The medical teacher paused, her voice softening even more.
“You really have had it tough. But this time, the Agriculture Division finally got its moment to shine!”
Liyang grinned and replied, “That’s right—we earned it!”
She said it lightheartedly, but for someone listening in, it struck a chord.
Those words—playful as they were—landed heavily in Si Kui’s heart.
She’d been floating above the arena the whole time, watching unseen.
She had seen every one of Liyang’s battles.
Especially the one against the Star Combat Division.
Liyang had paid a real price to activate “Frenzy.”
That was a brush with death—an actual life-threatening state.
Only by handing her body over to the star technique itself could she trigger that level of effect.
Si Kui remembered what her own mentor had once said:
“As long as I’m here, none of you students will ever need to ‘risk your lives.’”
It wasn’t just during school.
Her teacher had protected her until death.
But now, her own personal disciple had suffered such extreme tolls.
Si Kui closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, her decision had already been made.
Her voice rang clearly in the spiritual sea shared by Liyang and Feng Yiqiao:
“I’ll be going into seclusion for a while. Liyang, you’ll move down to the cottage at the foot of the mountain in the meantime.”