Chapter Twenty-Three: A Silent Warning

The first-year evaluations held little suspense; the second-year tests were somewhat more interesting, as a few students had already reached level three in psionic power by the end of the year, some even surpassing a few of the lower-ranking third-year students. Though these were comprehensive assessments, the strength of one’s psionic energy largely determined their scores in other categories—except for martial skill, for an exceptional technique could allow a psionic warrior to display abilities far beyond what the raw power metrics might suggest.

At last, it was the third-years’ turn. Soon enough, the students began to exclaim in surprise, for a particularly impressive score appeared during the strength test.

“Class Three-One, Shi Feng. Last month’s score—this month’s score—”

Both the raw numbers and the rate of progress were remarkable, befitting a special student with psionic level five, on par with Serena. Unlike other students who would sweat nervously during the end-of-month assessments, Shi Feng was utterly composed—so much so that his demeanor bordered on indifference. Before throwing his punch, he even yawned, having risen early that morning and now feeling a touch of drowsiness.

Shi Feng’s performance left the instructors both amused and exasperated. Was the student simply too nonchalant, or did he possess an extraordinary, unshakeable composure? To call him a genius would be inadequate; he was more of an eccentric prodigy. His laid-back attitude at the academy was well-known, yet his abilities stood firm, and his monthly progress outpaced even the most obsessive of the so-called training fanatics. What else could one say?

Very well—every so often, the world produces one or two outlandish prodigies, seemingly adored by the gods themselves. Best to let him be.

Next came the agility tests, which comprised two parts. The first was the long-jump test, similar to the ancient world’s running jump. Perhaps finding the run-up tedious, Shi Feng merely jogged two steps—hardly more than a standing jump.

The results flashed on the large screen:

“Class Three-One, Shi Feng. Last month’s score—this month’s score—”

Once again, an astonishing result. The two-step run-up was Shi Feng’s trademark. How high could he jump with a full sprint? This was always a hot topic of debate at Weston Academy.

The second agility event was the footwork and change-of-direction test. On the trial field, one hundred posts, each two meters long, were set up. Atop each post was a number, from “1” to “100.” The posts formed a winding path—sometimes S-shaped, sometimes Z-shaped, never a straight line. The distance between each was irregular: some just half a meter apart, others three or four meters. Test-takers had to start from post one, step in sequence onto each consecutive post, and reach the hundredth. The time taken determined their score.

If a student lost their footing and fell to the ground, it wasn’t a violation—but they would have to leap back to the same post, wasting precious time.

This test demanded exceptional balance and explosive power; distance alone would not suffice.

When Shi Feng landed on the first post, the timer began. In this nerve-wracking event, he maintained his unconventional style, bouncing along as if drunken, swaying precariously with each leap and nearly tumbling off several times. Yet, every time, he managed to recover—scraping a foot across the post at the last moment and landing safely on the next. As his body never touched the ground, his technique was well within the rules.

After crossing the hundredth post, the screen displayed: “Class Three-One, Shi Feng. Last month’s score: nine seconds. This month’s score: — seconds.”

An exceptionally high score—and again, an outcome that left the instructors both baffled and amused. No one else could nearly fall multiple times and still post such a result. If one thought his balance poor, his flawless, time-saving recoveries undercut that judgment completely.

As expected, Shi Feng also scored highly in the martial arts, thrown weapons, blocking, and combat technique tests, though the process in each was unorthodox and left spectators speechless.

Regardless, Shi Feng’s strength was undeniable. This, perhaps, was why many female students were still drawn to him, despite his reputed laziness and wandering eye.

When the tests concluded, Shi Feng ambled lazily off the trial field.

Kevin frowned. This Shi Feng was his greatest rival at Weston Academy. Fortunately, Shi Feng’s questionable reputation and his aloof, carefree attitude were somewhat reassuring to Kevin.

As Shi Feng passed by Class Four, he suddenly turned his head to look in their direction. For the lead student of Canglan to turn his head for no reason usually meant a beauty was present.

But this time, Shi Feng wasn’t looking at a beauty. His gaze fixed directly on Kevin, and his usual indifference vanished, replaced by a cold intensity—like a lion awakening from slumber.

This chilling look was a first for Class Four; they all involuntarily shivered, and Kevin, the target, felt profoundly uneasy.

Yet in an instant, the cold gaze was gone, Shi Feng’s playful, devil-may-care smile returning. He even whistled at one of the more attractive female students in Class Four, making it seem as if the earlier moment had been a mere illusion.

But Kevin was certain it was no illusion. In that moment, he had seen a warning in Shi Feng’s eyes.

There was no enmity between them; why the warning? The reason could only be Luo Chen.

Everyone knew Luo Chen and Shi Feng were not only roommates, but also best friends. Luo Chen had never explained the truth of that incident to others, but likely had told Shi Feng, who, trusting his friend, naturally felt aggrieved on his behalf. Thus, he warned Kevin: any further schemes against his friend would not go unpunished.

“Damn it, Shi Feng, who do you think you are, warning me? I am Kevin, noble scion of the DeRozan family!” Kevin cursed inwardly, but still could not shake the intimidation of Shi Feng’s glare. For all his laziness, Shi Feng was formidable enough as is—what if he ever got serious?

Moreover, Shi Feng’s background was undoubtedly complicated. If he were just a commoner, or a street orphan like Luo Chen, even as a once-in-a-century talent he could never have reached such heights. Kevin was all but certain that, like himself, Shi Feng had received the best education and resources since childhood. Yet his origins remained a mystery, and until Kevin uncovered the truth, he dared not provoke him lightly.

The tests continued. When it was Kevin’s turn, there was another small commotion. In all categories, Kevin’s scores edged slightly above Shi Feng’s. In the final combat technique assessment, his dazzling Honor Fist drew even more attention. Still, among the students, there was an unspoken sense that he remained inferior to Shi Feng—perhaps because Kevin was so earnest, whereas Shi Feng seemed to breeze through without effort.

[Just a little more and I’ll break into the top eight of the new books ranking. Now I’ve been pulled ahead again by Hidden One—frustrating! I have no choice but to keep begging for recommendation votes.]