Chapter 11: Mad Little Blossom

He knew perfectly well the flaws and shortcomings of the soldiers he crafted. With the growth of his spiritual power, the quality of his creations—at least their hardness—was steadily improving. Yet, limited by the low total amount of spiritual energy, he still couldn’t remove all impurities during the refining of ores. This was precisely what affected his soldiers and caused a continual stream of defective products.

Haste would avail him nothing.

There were only two ways to increase spiritual power: one was through cultivation of the Way of Artifacts, and the other was entering the Storm Arena. He hadn’t the time for the Arena, and the Way of Artifacts was restricted to certain periods, so he could only be patient.

For now, his most crucial task was to guide Wolf and Little Flower.

Wolf was injured and moved with difficulty, so he could afford to delay a bit. But Little Flower had to attend classes every day, enduring the torment of one challenge after another, scraping by with sheer will.

Each day, he was battered and exhausted in both body and spirit.

Lonely Farewell watched him, anger burning within. Yet he couldn’t intervene. Every time Little Flower sought his advice, he restrained himself, reminding himself that Little Flower must rely on his own efforts to regain his dignity.

"This footwork is mainly about maneuvering—dodging while waiting for and seeking the enemy’s openings, then striking hard at their weak spots. I’ve observed you closely; your physical strength is lacking, so you’re unsuited for direct confrontation. But your observational skill and adaptability are several times greater than most," Lonely Farewell instructed with earnest selflessness.

Little Flower listened intently, memorizing every step and the reasoning behind its movement.

"There will always be disparities between you and your opponent. If you blindly force yourself, it’s futile. You must grasp your strengths, amplify them to the utmost, and exploit the enemy’s flaws, accumulating enough advantage to shift quantity into qualitative victory. The gains and losses of a moment aren’t worth quibbling over…

"You may memorize the steps, but you must also comprehend, ponder, and actively analyze them. Don’t blindly imitate; avoid forming fixed patterns. Every step can be split and changed at will… Only when you achieve this will you have truly mastered the technique…"

"Yes."

Little Flower nodded emphatically. After Lonely Farewell departed, he moved ceaselessly, thinking and experimenting. In his mind, a real enemy seemed to appear before him, the two engaged in a deadly duel…

Wolf, at some point, had leaned against the doorway, watching Little Flower with admiration. He muttered to himself, sometimes swaying left and right, up and down, as if possessed.

"What suits oneself is best… To be lucky enough to follow the boss is a blessing indeed…"

Wolf sighed.

…

"Little Flower, come out, it’s your turn to show what you’ve got."

"Yes, you should start being proactive—don’t always wait for someone to call your name."

…

In the combat class, the free challenge had begun.

A few scions from distinguished families were impatient, their voices strange and loud as they called Little Flower to the stage, naming him directly.

These days, it had become custom, routine.

The power of habit is frightening; Little Flower found himself stepping out from the crowd, almost involuntarily. His expression was vacant, spirit sometimes adrift, his eyes red and unfocused, lips muttering as if afflicted by some illness.

Coldshade frowned, about to speak up.

But a student interjected, "What are you pretending for? Think you can escape by acting like this? Here’s my advice: work hard to improve your own strength, or else you’re just our appetizer."

"Haha, well said. But it’s even better now that the free challenge is open—we can pick anyone we want…" Another chimed in, their gaze sharp and cold, sweeping across the crowd without a hint of a smile.

Opposing this group, there was another gathering of students—mostly of humble origin, lacking any backing. A few were from emerging small families, but their shallow foundations left them ostracized by the powerful, established clans.

Being so scrutinized, a few couldn’t help themselves, ready to rush forward. From their camp, someone shouted, "Don’t be hasty! Let me spar with Little Flower first—then you can all take turns."

"Ah, beaten to it." The ordinary students showed a hint of fighting spirit, but their side was unfazed, still joking, "No choice—I’ll have to wait for the next round to challenge Little Flower."

"Heh, I’ll be third. It’s quite satisfying to torment him."

…

A bold challenger strode forth, stopping before Little Flower, saying, "Stop pretending and let’s begin. I don’t care whether you fight back."

With that, he swung a fist.

Swish—

Little Flower seemed to awaken, dodging the blow, slipping quickly to the challenger’s left and smashing a fist into his ribs.

The man tried instinctively to turn, but that fist landed squarely on his solar plexus, as if he’d deliberately exposed a huge opening.

Hit!

Ugh—

The challenger’s chest was struck, his breathing stalled, blood and energy blocked. Little Flower ignored him, moved in close, and swung his arm fiercely, slashing horizontally.

Smack!

Right on the throat.

Though not fatal, the blow knocked him out instantly; his heavy body toppled like a mountain, crashing to the floor, unmoving.

Even in unconsciousness, the challenger’s face twisted in pain, breath labored.

…

The family scions were stunned.

"Well done!" In the other camp, two students led the applause.

One was called Zuo Fang, the other Swimming Fish—both from small families, carrying high hopes. But they too were shunned, lumped in with the ordinary. Their relationship with Little Flower was friendly in private, and now they felt vindicated.

On this side, someone grew furious, stepped out and bellowed, "That was too light—he hasn’t learned his lesson! Getting excited over a single mistake?"

Whoosh~

He moved, leaping in and swinging a punch.

Swish—

Little Flower sidestepped.

His fist shot out, swift as lightning.

Bang!

Hit!

The challenger missed, startled by Little Flower’s speed. He tried to turn and attack again, but, sadly, just like the first, his chest was struck, his breath stopped, his throat smashed once more, eyes rolling back as he fell flat.

A virtual repeat.

Little Flower remained dazed, listless, occasionally raising an arm, mumbling something. He seemed oblivious to the free challenge underway.

Two easy victories, yet he didn’t withdraw.

"Watch me—those two are trash!"

Another challenger charged in, throwing a punch like an angry dragon bursting from the sea.

Little Flower sidestepped, raising his arm.

"Hmph, I was waiting for you," the challenger sneered, his body unmoving, left arm swinging out.

Smack!

Little Flower had just prepared to punch, but his face was struck unexpectedly, staggering back several steps. His lips visibly swelled.

The shock jolted him awake, pulling him from his world of contemplation. He glanced at the floor, rubbed his lips, and suddenly grinned through the pain, saying, "Again."

Whoosh—

He lowered his waist, shooting forward along the ground at an angle.

"Is that all you know?" the challenger scorned, left fist half-drawn, ready to strike, his fighting energy surging, determined to knock Little Flower unconscious. "Always the same move—I could close my eyes and know where you are. How can you hope to beat me…"

Boom—

Timing his strike, the challenger swung his arm hard, the wind of his fist whistling.

Swoosh—

Little Flower didn’t repeat himself; no longer mechanical, he slid diagonally, arriving behind the challenger.

"Damn!"

The challenger cursed silently, but his response was sharp—a leg kicked backward.

Bang!

Little Flower planted his foot, flipping into the air, energy gathering, and kicked the challenger’s face hard.

Thud.

Balancing on one leg, the challenger lost equilibrium and fell.

Little Flower pressed forward, relentless, kicking indiscriminately at the challenger’s face and chest. Every kick was full force. His spirit burned, blood boiled, caught in a frenzy.

"Stop!"

Coldshade could stand it no longer. He could overlook ordinary students taking advantage, but seeing blood splatter and cries weaken, he had to intervene before someone died.

Little Flower seemed not to hear, still kicking. His legs were drenched in blood, red and mottled like plum blossoms.

Coldshade shook his head, suddenly stepped in, grabbed Little Flower by the neck, and flung him aside. He then announced coolly, "Today’s lesson ends here."

"He was trying to kill—aren’t you going to pursue this?" a family scion shouted, unwilling to let it go.

"Is anyone dead? I don’t see it," Coldshade replied ominously, staring at the student, speaking slowly. "Or do you wish to be accidentally killed yourself?"

"No, no…" The student hurriedly waved his hands, backing away in a cold sweat.

"Class dismissed."

…

"That’s exhilarating—damn satisfying," Zuo Fang laughed, slapping Little Flower’s shoulder. "Nicely done, Little Flower. It was cathartic—I almost wanted to go up and kick him myself."

"Yeah, right—with your ability, you’d just be kicked," Swimming Fish retorted, plump and dismissive. Then, as if remembering something, he asked, "By the way, Little Flower, you seemed absent-minded today. Didn’t rest well?"

"No, I was just deeply pondering fighting techniques," Little Flower replied honestly. "The boss has been instructing me lately—he’s said a lot that needs careful thought…"

"Boss? What boss?" Swimming Fish was intrigued, pressing, "Is he your elder brother? I’ve never heard you mention him—you always said you were alone."

"He’s someone I met during the selection trials. Without him, I wouldn’t have made it into the academy—might even have died."

"Oh, so your boss is here at the academy?"

"Selection trials? You mean he’s also a student this year?" Swimming Fish and Zuo Fang caught the implication, instantly surprised.

Little Flower nodded, a gleam in his eyes. "The boss is also a student this year—he took part in the selection with me, Wolf, and the others."

"But how come I’ve never seen him?" Zuo Fang scratched his head. Swimming Fish was equally puzzled, "Yeah, not a hint. For someone who could coach you to improve so much in just a few days, such a master…"

Little Flower chuckled, "Don’t guess. The boss broke through to General rank on the first day in the advanced class…"

"Oh, I see." Zuo Fang and Swimming Fish exchanged glances, suddenly enlightened but a bit distant. "So your boss is like those family scions, holding back their breakthrough until after the selection, then advancing."

"Wrong again," Little Flower winced, rubbing his lips, patiently explaining, "You’re all mistaken. During the trials, the boss had only opened two Power Pools, and he’s from a village guardian family—not from any great clan or powerful faction."

"Too bad—in the advanced class, your boss must be busy. We two have no chance to seek his guidance."

"Heh," Little Flower laughed again, making Zuo Fang and Swimming Fish feign anger, pretending to flick his forehead. Little Flower dodged, pleading, "Alright, alright, I’ll stop laughing… I wasn’t mocking you—I just wanted to tell you, you’re wrong again."

"Wrong how?"

"My boss isn’t in the advanced class," Little Flower said guilelessly. "He lives in the library—me too, and Wolf, Little Sister, Baby, and also Sister Su."

Library?

Swimming Fish was stunned, looking questioningly at Zuo Fang. The latter shook his head, about to speak when he suddenly froze, his face changing dramatically. His body trembled as he stared at Little Flower, voice quivering, "Did you just say… the library… the forbidden library?"

"Yes, what’s the matter?" Little Flower was puzzled, stepping forward, "Are you ill? Why are you shaking?"

Ah—

On the other side, Swimming Fish screamed suddenly, like a helpless maiden surrounded by a dozen lecherous men.

Little Flower jumped, baffled, "What’s gotten into you both?"

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