Chapter 1: The Descendant of the King of Soldiers

Twenty-fifth century.

Beneath the vast heavens, thunderclouds gathered in dense, oppressive layers. In Sentinel City on the Hope Continent, towering steel skyscrapers shot up, piercing the clouds above. All around, cold machinery and shadowy architecture dominated the landscape. The immense city teemed with people so densely packed that they resembled swarming ants, crowding every street and corridor. Flying vehicles wove ceaselessly through the air and along the avenues, while all around, enormous virtual advertisement screens broadcast reports on combat tournaments from across the continent.

Within a renowned martial academy in this city, a young man of about seventeen stood on the arena stage, gazing absently into the sky.

His name was Chu Yun—or perhaps it was not. To be precise, there was another name that once belonged to him, a name known somewhere in the universe… But that was all in the past.

“Assembly!”

A whistle blew. A martial arts instructor shouted brashly across the grounds.

All the students gathered at his call.

Chu Yun remained seated on the steps, lost in thought, staring into the sky. It wasn’t long before the instructor’s roar erupted: “Where’s Chu Yun? Chu Yun, get over here now!”

“Teacher Song, he’s over there!” someone pointed.

At last, Chu Yun dusted himself off and descended the steps.

Teacher Song, clutching a report, trembled with fury. “What do you have in your head, sand? How did I end up with a useless student like you? This is the second time now—look at these results! Don’t ever tell anyone you were taught by me!”

“Teacher, what did he score this time?” a curious classmate asked.

“Warrior Level 1!” Teacher Song flung the report to the ground in disgust. “At the end of this term, you’re out of here.”

“Still just Warrior Level 1? So he hasn’t made any progress at all this year? Isn’t the minimum entrance requirement for our academy Warrior Level 3? The Ye family went to so much trouble to get him in, and after two years, he’s still stuck at entry-level? What a joke.”

“Why laugh? We should be grateful to him.”

“Grateful? Why?”

“If he weren’t always at the bottom, making the rest of us look better by comparison, we’d be the ones getting laughed at. He’s a great man, really.”

“That’s right, all the other teachers keep telling us never to end up like Chu Yun, this waste of space. His existence is a constant warning to work hard, or else we’ll end up like him—just breathing would be a mistake.”

“Hahaha!”

“Don’t be angry, Teacher. You shouldn’t have expected anything from someone like him. He only got in to accompany Ye Linglong. With his talent, reaching Warrior Level 1 is already a miracle, thanks to you.”

“Exactly—no matter which top instructor you send a dullard like him to, it’s useless. He’s given up on himself!”

Hearing the students’ jeers, Teacher Song glared at Chu Yun, eager to wash his hands of him. “I don’t care if you’re only here as Ye Linglong’s companion. Go to another class—don’t disgrace mine any longer. I can’t bear to have a student like you.”

Chu Yun walked over, picked up the report, and glanced at the overall martial assessment. Even he had to laugh at himself for being this bad—or rather, at how poorly this body had performed in past evaluations.

He vaguely recalled that this teacher wasn’t much good either, only ever showing interest in the more talented students and letting him fend for himself. Now that the grades were out, the teacher was simply using this as an excuse to force him out.

“Isn’t it a bit much to decide someone’s entire life is worthless after only seventeen years?” Chu Yun calmly folded the report, looking at the teacher with interest.

Teacher Song hadn’t expected this usually docile student to talk back. “I’ve seen many students—the best reach Warrior Level 7 by sixteen. At sixteen, you were still at Level 1. Even the worst I’ve taught have reached Level 4 by seventeen, but here you are, still at Level 1. You’re nothing if not consistent. Compared to them, aren’t you just garbage?”

“Teacher, you’re insulting garbage. At least some trash can be recycled.”

“Haha!”

“He’s right, Teacher. There’s no shortage of trash on Earth—pollution everywhere. Every year, people try to clean it up, and yet the trash only ever increases. One more won’t matter. Don’t waste your anger.”

Teacher Song regarded Chu Yun’s insolence with a harsh snort. “Rotten wood can’t be carved!”

“That’s fine,” Chu Yun replied, unconcerned. “You never wanted to teach me anyway. I’ll just study on my own.”

“What did you say?” The teacher’s brows shot up. “You think you can learn anything with that brain of yours? Fine, I’ll teach you—right now!”

Handing his clipboard and pen to a nearby student, Teacher Song stood before Chu Yun, face grim. “Come on, what do you want to learn? I’ll teach you here and now.”

The other students smirked. They knew Teacher Song was angry. This wasn’t about teaching Chu Yun anything—it was about making an example of him. With unruly students, a good beating was the simplest lesson, and Teacher Song’s punishments were notoriously severe.

Chu Yun met the instructor’s gaze without flinching. “Teacher Song, if you were up against someone like yourself, how many moves would it take to win?”

“Good question.” Teacher Song put his hands on his hips and turned to the class. “How many moves do you think it would take you to beat me?”

“No, that’s not quite right,” he corrected himself. “How many exchanges do you think you could withstand against me?”

A student raised his hand. “I think I could manage fifteen moves.”

Teacher Song nodded approvingly. “Good, you know your own limits.”

“Teacher, I think I could last thirty moves.”

“Under extreme conditions, perhaps,” the teacher agreed.

“Teacher, I believe I could go eighty moves with you.”

Teacher Song nodded. “Of all my students, you’re the most outstanding. If I’m not in top form, you could probably endure a hundred moves.”

Turning to Chu Yun with a sneer, he asked, “And you? How many moves do you think you could survive?”

Chu Yun answered, “One.”

The class burst into laughter at his honesty.

Not even a hint of struggle left—just straight-up surrender? He could have said two, at least.

“Well, at least you’re self-aware,” Teacher Song said, his voice cold. “Now you see the gap. How am I supposed to teach you?”

Chu Yun interrupted, “You still didn’t answer my question, Teacher. I meant, if you faced someone of equal skill, how many moves would it take you to win?”

“At least three hundred rounds,” Teacher Song replied. “As I’ve taught you, when skill is evenly matched, willpower and focus are what determine victory.”

“Then let me show you how to win in one move,” Chu Yun said, then corrected himself, “No—how to defeat you in one move.”

Teacher Song’s expression darkened, a flicker of anger in his eyes. The boy was mocking him.

“Did Van Zhiming knock your brains loose the other day?” Teacher Song reached to twist Chu Yun’s ear, his face contorted with rage. “I heard you were in the hospital for three days—why didn’t you just die while you were there?”

Chu Yun smiled, deftly dodging the teacher’s hand. “The old Chu Yun you used to bully did die in that hospital. From now on, I won’t be bullied anymore.”

Teacher Song’s face clouded with fury as his hand was brushed aside.

“You don’t want to be bullied?” he sneered, reaching out to slap Chu Yun, but Chu Yun stepped back, evading the blow.

The other students were stunned—Chu Yun had actually dared to avoid it.

Seeing his hand suspended in midair, Teacher Song’s temper exploded. He lunged at Chu Yun, swinging his palm viciously. “You dare dodge? I’ll kill you!”

But this time, Chu Yun didn’t evade. Instead, he drove a powerful kick straight into Teacher Song’s abdomen.

A spurt of saliva shot from the instructor’s mouth as he was sent flying. He crashed to the ground and skidded across the floor, coming to a halt after sliding more than ten meters.

“Not only did I dodge, I fought back!” Chu Yun glared coldly at him. “To deal with the likes of you, one move is enough. That’s something you could never teach.”

With that, he cast a cool glance at his classmates and walked away.

Teacher Song spat up a mouthful of blood and collapsed, unconscious.