As silence settled over the arena, murmurs exploded in the audience.
"Did you see that lightning? That wasn't a technique from any known sect!"
"Who is this Class D? And who trained them?"
In the VIP pavilion, the elders exchanged uncertain glances. Elder Jin frowned, his voice tight. "That wasn't luck. That was formation-guided combat. Advanced. Dangerous."
At the center of it all, Han Li stood with his hands behind his back, his tattered robes fluttering in the wind. He didn't bask in the applause. He didn't nod. He merely watched Xuan Mu return, chest rising and falling calmly.
"You did well," Han Li said.
"I felt it," Xuan Mu replied. "Your method… it's alive. It changes."
Han Li gave a faint nod. "Good. The others—prepare. They'll strike harder now."
And they did.
The next round was brutal. Class A sent in elite formations—dual cultivators, beast tamers, even a disciple who wielded cursed fire. One after another, students of Class D stepped forward.
Qing Yue danced through flames with her frost sword, freezing fire midair.
Shen Yu used reflective cultivation to bounce techniques back at their casters.
Luo Feng, once mocked for his spiritual weakness, activated a barrier that absorbed three spells and exploded back in a pulse.
Each move wasn't just power—it was intelligent, unpredictable, maddeningly precise.
In the stands, one noble lady stood. Her face pale.
"That's Han Li," she whispered. "The former Heaven's Executioner."
The words spread like wildfire.
People began to remember.
The Mad Janitor. The Silent Demon. The man who vanished after slaying an entire corrupted sect in one night.
And now… he was a teacher.
A teacher of the rejects.
And those rejects were winning.
"He shouldn't exist," Elder Jin whispered.
But he did.
And he was just getting started.