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Inside the purple mecha, Guang Biao froze.
His pupils contracted violently—cold sweat drenching his back.
"Battle Armor?!"
The realization hit him like an ice dagger to the heart.
His desperate, all-or-nothing resolve shattered instantly, replaced by pure, primal terror.
He'd never imagined this seemingly ordinary Donghai Academy instructor was actually a revered Battle Armor Master.
Wu Zhangkong stood with the Sky Ice Skyfrost Sword angled toward the ground.
His aura surged exponentially, chilling the very soul.
"Sky… Ice…"
The words left his lips—voice trembling with long-suppressed pain.
In his now crystal-blue eyes, profound sorrow churned.
"Sky"—for his Skyfrost Sword.
"Ice"—for his lost beloved.
For years, he'd refused to summon his Battle Armor—
afraid the tidal wave of memories would drown him.
Every activation was like ripping open a wound that would never heal.
Yet he had to live.
He had to fulfill his promise to her.
Before a Battle Armor Master, even the mightiest mecha pilot was nothing.
This purple mecha—even a rare black mecha—would kneel in submission before true Battle Armor.
Now clad in the "Sky Ice" Battle Armor, Wu Zhangkong's power equaled that of an Eight-Ring Soul Douluo.
"You dare harm my students? Pay with your life."
His voice was ice itself—devoid of all emotion.
His first soul ring blazed—deep yellow light solidifying into tangible force.
"First Soul Skill: Frost Scar!"
The Sky Ice Skyfrost Sword twitched, a blade of ice-blue energy ripped through the sky!
Where it passed, moisture in the air froze into glittering crystals, refracting deadly light under the sun.
The strike seemed effortless—yet carried power to freeze the world.
"No—"
Guang Biao's scream cut off abruptly.
The purple mecha split cleanly in two—the cleavage instantly encased in thick frost.
Inside the cockpit, Guang Biao had no time to react, the sub-zero blade energy froze him and his mecha solid, then shattered them into countless ice shards.
"Guang Biao—dead."
Dead silence swallowed the battlefield.
The Mecha Battalion stood petrified—some forgetting to breathe.
Their pride—their invincible mechas—had proven fragile as paper before a Battle Armor Master.
Azure light faded.
Around Wu Zhangkong, countless blue currents swirled, merging back into his form.
White robes. Blue sword. Heaven's ice. Earth's frost.
—Sky Ice Wu Zhangkong!
"Return to training."
His icy command was directed at Fang Yang's group.
"Butler—I'm heading back to campus," Xie Xie broke the silence, turning to the Xie entourage. "You may all withdraw."
"As you command, Young Master." The butler bowed, leading the Xie forces away in perfect order.
Mu Chen, President of the Blacksmith Association, stepped forward.
"Wulin—we'll take our leave. Keep in touch."
"Safe travels, President," Tang Wulin replied respectfully.
And so, Fang Yang's quartet silently followed Wu Zhangkong back into Donghai Academy.
Only when his figure vanished did the crowd finally exhale.
"My god…"
A girl's squeal shattered the silence—
and Donghai Academy erupted.
Intermediate and Senior Division students roared Wu Zhangkong's name in unison.
Especially Class Five—their faces flushed with pride, chests puffed high.
Assigned to the "trash class," they'd all felt unfairly judged—
until today.
Wu Zhangkong's power had given them unshakable dignity.
That moment, Battle Armor donned, one sword strike, instant death.
Guang Biao, who'd strutted like a king, couldn't survive a single move.
"Boss Guang Biao's dead—what do we do?!" a mecha soldier whispered.
"Boss?" another snapped.
"Guang Biao conspired with the Holy Spirit Sect! A traitor to the Solar Federation—deserving of death!"
In moments, Guang Biao's forces fled in disarray.
Long Hengxu watched them go, face etched with awe.
True power solves everything.
Before Wu Zhangkong acted, the crisis was uncontrollable.
After? Annihilated in an instant.
With Guang Biao dead, all troubles vanished.
"Alright, everyone—disperse!"
Under Long Hengxu's orders, the crowd reluctantly scattered.
—
Wu Zhangkong's Office
"Teacher Wu… we're sorry for the trouble," Fang Yang said, the four bowing in unison.
"No matter. Return to your training," Wu Zhangkong replied coolly.
Xie Xie couldn't resist: "Teacher Wu… you're not even angry?"
"You did nothing wrong. Guang Long deserved to die," Wu Zhangkong said flatly.
His gaze swept over them. "But for your safety—no leaving campus at night, except under special circumstances."
"Yes, Teacher Wu!" they chorused.
Wu Zhangkong gave a slight nod and headed for the door.
As he passed, he paused:
"Tomorrow's Promotion Tournament. Perform well."
Only after the door closed did the four finally breathe easy, exchanging relieved smiles.
Tang Wulin patted his chest, grinning. "I thought we'd be punished with laps around the field!"
"Wulin, please," Xie Xie rolled his eyes. "I never want to endure that soul-crushing physical training again."
Fang Yang glanced out the window. "It's late—let's head back."
He naturally took Gu Yue's hand. She nodded softly—a flicker of warmth in her eyes.
After parting with Gu Yue, the three returned to their dorm.
…
The next day, Donghai Academy acted as if nothing had happened.
No punishment. No inquiries. Life went on.
The Promotion Tournament proceeded as scheduled—Class Five's opponents: Class Two.
Crowds swelled—even Senior Division students came, not just to watch the match, but to glimpse Wu Zhangkong's legendary prowess.
Since yesterday's incident, Class Five and Wu Zhangkong's names echoed across Donghai.
Against Class Two, Fang Yang's team didn't even try—
they swept the opposition like roadkill.
With such overwhelming strength—and Wu Zhangkong's towering reputation, Class Five's fame was now cemented in Donghai Academy.
Tomorrow was rest day.
And after that…
their ultimate challenge would begin: Class One.
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