The glowing palm inched forward, slow at first, dragging the air with a heavy hum. Every step it took left behind a faint shimmer, as if the air itself bent under its weight.
Li Xuan gritted his teeth. His fists trembled as he gathered what little soul force he could muster, letting it swirl weakly around his arms. He could already feel the pressure of the palm pushing down on him, heavy and suffocating.
A low whistle ran through the crowd.
"Idiot," someone muttered.
The palm suddenly picked up speed, crashing down with a deafening crack. The ground split beneath Li Xuan's feet. He pushed both hands forward, his energy flaring into a thin, flickering light that barely held together.
For a brief moment, it seemed he had stopped it. The light from his palms met the glowing hand, holding it in place—trembling, but still standing. Dust rose around him as his shoes sank deeper into the tiles.
Then came the sound—a sharp, dry snap.
His energy shattered like glass.
The palm slammed forward, striking him across the face with a thunderous slap that echoed through the courtyard. He flew back, tumbling across the cracked tiles before landing hard on his side.
Gasps rippled through the students, followed by muffled laughter. A few covered their mouths; others didn't bother hiding their amusement.
Li Xuan slowly lifted his head. The right side of his face burned red—a clear handprint glowing across his cheek. His lips trembled, not from fear, but from anger he couldn't swallow.
"Ah," the instructor said, his tone casual, almost bored. "That's what happens when you overestimate yourself."
He brushed invisible dust from his robe.
"Next," he said, as though nothing had happened.
The whispers grew louder.
"I told you."
"Who does he think he is?"
"Did you see that mark? He looked like a rag doll."
Li Xuan pushed himself up slowly, his arms shaking. For a moment, he just stood there, head bowed, his hair shadowing his eyes. The humiliation stung more than the pain. The burning on his cheek throbbed like a reminder that he was still far too weak.
He took a long breath, brushed the dust from his clothes, and spoke in a low, calm voice.
"Thank you… for the lesson."
The instructor raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised that Li Xuan could even speak after that.
At the edge of the courtyard, Xiao Fengqi's eyes softened. She didn't speak, but a faint worry flickered in her gaze—she already knew what was coming next.
Li Xuan raised his head. "Another one," he said quietly, as if he hadn't just been slapped to the ground and every bone in his body didn't ache.
The courtyard went silent. Even those who had just been accepted into Class 4H wouldn't dare face a second palm strike. Yet here he was, asking for one.
The instructor tilted his head, intrigued. "Another?" he repeated, a faint smile curling on his lips. "Well then… why not be generous?"
He raised his hand again. A new icy palm materialized in the air—this time without mist or chill. Its cold was condensed, heavy, and silent. The pressure alone made the air hum.
Without warning, the instructor pointed forward.
Li Xuan moved too, his body lowering slightly. One hand rose into the air, the other sliding to his side. His fingers came together, and slowly, the two hands met above his head. He drew in a soft breath and brought them down to his chest, calm and steady. Then, with a circular motion, his fingertips began to trace glowing lines in the air—an intricate pattern forming with every sweep.
He breathed deeply, pouring what remained of his spiritual energy into his palm. The glowing lines converged toward it, pulsing with weak light.
The instructor smiled faintly, his eyes narrowing. "Interesting…"
The icy palm shot forward, faster than before. Li Xuan steadied his footing—one leg rooted, the other braced like a sprinter ready to launch. He swung his palm from behind, using everything he had left.
A faint palm-shaped energy burst from his hand, flying to meet the incoming strike. The two forces clashed, pushing against each other for only a heartbeat—then Li Xuan's energy shattered into mist.
The instructor's palm surged through the remnants, pressing forward again.
Li Xuan's eyes widened. Even after channeling all his spiritual energy into that technique, he couldn't resist it for more than a second.
"Stop."
The single word cut through the air like thunder. The glowing palm froze, halting just an inch from Li Xuan's face.
Feng Lei, who had been grinning at the thought of another slap, frowned in confusion.
The palm retreated, soaring upward before bursting into a cluster of icy fragments. The shards hovered briefly, then dissolved into mist. It was a terrifying display—stopping such a powerful strike in an instant required control few could ever achieve.
Time seemed to slow as the mist drifted away, fading into the blue sky.
All around, the students stood in silence, their faces pale. Even those who had laughed before now felt a chill run through them. If that power had hit them, they would have been erased completely.
"Young man," the instructor said, his voice softening, "that was impressive… even for an old man like me."
Li Xuan clasped his hands together and bowed.
"When your first palm struck me," he said calmly, "I noticed something. It wasn't a complete skill—just a trace of spiritual energy left in the air. When you waved your hand again, the remnants stayed intact. All you did was pour more energy into that pattern to strengthen it. That's how I learned and copied your strike."
The instructor's smile widened slightly. His eyes gleamed with rare appreciation.
"Your understanding of spiritual energy is beyond your years."
He straightened his back and nodded once. "Very well, young man—you win. As a reward, I'll advance the others to Class 2H… and you, to 3H."
His feet lifted off the ground. In a blur of light, he looked toward the sky and vanished as swiftly as he had appeared.
For a moment, the courtyard was silent. Then a wave of clapping erupted, echoing off the walls.
Every student understood what had just happened. If not for Li Xuan, they would have been stuck in Class 1H—a fate none desired.
Feng Lei's fists clenched as his eyes turned red with fury.