"You're bullying people! How could you…" Darlene glared at Ryan, about to expose his secret of entering the match while suppressing his level. But before the words could escape her mouth, a cold, sharp voice interrupted her.

  "If you dare say another word, I will seal your mouth in front of everyone right now!" Ryan's tone carried a clear threat.

  Entering a match while suppressing one's level violated the academy's unwritten rules. If Darlene revealed it publicly, not only could his qualification be canceled, but it might also draw the Headmaster's investigation. He had no intention of creating unnecessary trouble.

  Darlene was startled by his expression. She instinctively pouted but didn't dare continue speaking.

  She could tell Ryan was serious. Though he seemed carefree, once someone crossed his bottom line, he would show no mercy.

  "You really have no sense of chivalry," Darlene grumbled angrily.

  If her mother hadn't insisted she train independently at Sword Mage Academy without sending guards, she wouldn't be so wary of Ryan.

  "Look at your Derrick and stop crying here." Ryan ignored her complaint and pointed toward Derrick's platform, his tone softening slightly.

  "That brat isn't even mine!" Darlene couldn't help but glance at the platform anyway.

  In her heart, she felt a bit of anticipation. She wanted to see whether that stubborn rookie, facing an opponent higher in level than him, would be forced to surrender on the spot.

  If that happened, she intended to mock him thoroughly.

  Ryan's gaze also turned to the platform, a trace of expectation in his eyes. He had spent so long teaching Derrick magic and sword techniques. Now it was the perfect moment to see the results.

  On the platform, Derrick moved with the wind-step teleportation technique, flexibly dodging gaps between his opponent's attacks.

  His steps carried an odd staccato rhythm, sometimes freezing like a puppet trapped by magic, other times suddenly appearing on the opposite side of the platform, leaving the opponent unable to predict his trajectory.

  This was a customized foundational footwork Ryan had designed for him, specifically to deal with level suppression.

  "You're agile at dodging, but all you know is running!" A Fourth-tier Adept Mage attacking Derrick couldn't help but curse in anger.

  He fired a flame arrow from his wand, but it only grazed Derrick's clothing and struck the platform floor instead.

  Ryan watched this scene and nodded to himself. When you can't win, dodge first. Wait for the opponent to exhaust themselves, then strike. Derrick had learned the tactical principle well.

  The other eight apprentices on the platform were already struggling for their own survival.

  Some began attacking each other in the fight for the last standing spot, leaving no attention for Derrick, the rookie who only dodged.

  In their view, eliminating equally strong opponents first and then dealing with Derrick would be effortless.

  The fighting on the platform finally approached its end. Eight apprentices lay scattered across the floor. Some wailed over broken bones, others were barely conscious, forced to lie down and slowly recover using their remaining magical energy.

  Only the tall, thin Fifth-tier Adept Mage boy still stood in the center of the platform, panting heavily. His robe was torn in multiple places, blood at the corner of his mouth, showing extreme exhaustion.

  Those who had retreated to the corners to surrender earlier had suffered much less injury, having avoided the later chaotic fighting.

  On the platform, only Derrick and the tall, lean Fifth-tier Adept Mage remained.

  The tall, thin boy leaned on his knees, his chest heaving violently, clearly still recovering from the earlier brawl.

  Derrick's breathing was slightly rapid too, but his eyes gleamed with excitement. The opportunity he had been waiting for had finally arrived.

  Derrick suddenly drew the longsword at his waist, magical energy flowing along the blade, making it shine brilliantly."Sliding Step Sword Technique!"

  He glided forward as if on ice, leaving a faint afterimage behind, and instantly closed the distance between himself and the tall boy. With a flick of his wrist, the longsword slid along the boy's magical robe, then he spun and retracted the sword, striking a pose he thought looked impressively cool, waiting for his opponent to collapse.

  "Are you out of your mind?" The tall boy sneered, full of disdain at Derrick's pretentious pose. That sword attack had looked swift, yet it had not even pierced the magical shield around his body. At most, it had merely cut a small slit in his robe.

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  Derrick's smile froze, his expression turning serious as he stared at the tall boy."You're not hurt?" he asked in confusion. He had clearly felt the blade strike the opponent, so how could it have no effect?

  It was only when he noticed the faint sword mark on the tall boy's waist and the magical aura lingering around him that he realized. The opponent had condensed magical energy into a shield, blocking his attack.

  "You're just a rookie First-tier Adept Mage. If it weren't for that weird footwork letting you dodge until now, you'd already be lying on the ground howling," the tall boy said, looking at Derrick as if he were a rat in a sewer, his expression full of disgust.

  He flipped his palm, revealing a vial of blue potion. Pulling off the cork, the potion slowly flowed into his mouth.

  "You're allowed to use potions?!" Derrick's eyes widened, and he froze in shock. Subconsciously, he had assumed potions were forbidden in the academy matches, just like in town fights where the first one to draw a weapon was scorned. If only he had known potions were allowed, he would have asked Ryan for a few bottles beforehand!

  "Idiot!" The tall boy rolled his eyes at him. While channeling magic to digest the potion, he explained,"The academy only prohibits using forbidden arts amplification potions. Ordinary restorative potions like this, which just replenish energy without overextending life, nobody cares about."

  He had to recover his magical energy quickly. If this dodging rookie exhausted him into a loss, it would be a complete embarrassment.

  Derrick snapped out of it, raised his longsword, and charged at the tall boy again. He planted his feet on the platform, leapt into the air, and with his longsword infused with light-element magic, swung it down toward the boy's head with full force.

  A harsh metallic clash rang out as the tall boy hastily raised his iron longsword to block, the two blades locked in midair.

  Being a Fifth-tier Adept Mage, the tall boy had far more combat experience than Derrick. Seizing the moment of the lock, he violently lifted his right leg and kicked Derrick hard in the stomach.

  Derrick felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and flew backward, crashing heavily against the protective barrier. Clutching his stomach, he grimaced in pain.

  Immediately following, the tall boy's sword energy surged at Derrick with lightning speed, cutting straight toward him.

  On the platform, Derrick gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands. The violent impact made his wrists numb, and in his panic, his palms scraped against the blade.

  A deep, bone-searing wound instantly appeared, blood dripping down the sword.

  Outside the platform, Ryan shook his head helplessly, silently thinking: This disciple's combat experience is really like unrefined ore, clumsy and frustrating. He could have just adjusted the angle of the sword to deflect the force, but he chose to endure it head-on, forgetting even the most basic combat defense awareness.

  "Mentor said! Fighting beyond your level is the compulsory course for geniuses!" Derrick gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand tall despite the pain in his palms. With a sharp flick of his wrist, a burst of orange-red flame surged along the blade, enveloping it and forming a dazzling flaming enchanted sword.

  "And also! That Old Witch down there, watch closely!" Derrick shouted dramatically toward Ryan's direction, holding the flaming sword high.

  The"Old Witch" he referred to was, of course, Darlene, who had been mocking him earlier.

  The sudden outburst sent goosebumps across countless spectators outside the platform. Some couldn't help but laugh:"Is this kid crazy? He's almost losing and still talking back!"

  Ryan, however, laughed heartily, patting his thigh and teasing,"This kid really learned to win the aura game I taught him first."

  "You're the Old Witch! Your whole family are Old Witches!" Darlene shouted angrily, her cheeks flushed red as she stood with hands on her hips toward the platform.

  She never expected that this nearly defeated rookie would dare to call her"Old Witch" in public. Clenching her fists, she quickly plotted in her mind: Next, she would come up with an even harsher nickname for this brat, like clumsy turkey swordsman.

  Seeing Darlene's flustered reaction, Derrick's lips curled into a smug smile.

  The Soulweaver's Pendant around his neck glowed softly with green light, and the warm magical energy flowed from his neck to his palms, visibly repairing the wound on his hand.

  Derrick knew well that head-on confrontation was useless. He took a deep breath, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and shouted again,"Shadow Drift Step!"

  This time, his footwork was no longer simple teleportation; it carried a strange shadow fluctuation.

  He moved like a phantom, hopping and drifting across the platform, appearing behind the tall boy one moment and suddenly shifting to the side the next, making it impossible for the opponent to lock onto his position.

  The tall boy watched Derrick's erratic movements, his expression darkening. He swung his iron longsword continuously but could never touch Derrick's robe. Instead, his newly recovered magical energy began to deplete rapidly due to the constant defensive exertion.

  Ten minutes later, the scene on the platform had turned grim.

  Derrick was covered in sword wounds of various sizes, his clothes soaked in blood, hair matted to his forehead, yet his eyes remained locked on the tall boy, refusing to surrender.

  The tall boy, although only a third as injured as Derrick, was breathing heavily, his magical robe scorched with burn marks, clearly also heavily exhausted.

  "Fighting beyond your level is the compulsory course for geniuses. I'll prove it to that Old Witch." Derrick's mind echoed with that phrase.

  He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of strength in every swing. He didn't just want to win; he wanted to shut up those looking down on him and see Darlene's face turn red with frustration when he succeeded.

  "I'm a genius!" The words circled in his mind like a spell.

  This was the belief Ryan had instilled in him and Derrick's only support at this moment. The Mentor had said that his light-element magic talent combined with swordsmanship was naturally suited for fighting above his level, and he could achieve it.

  Outside the platform, however, neither Ryan nor Darlene noticed Derrick's frenzied determination.

  Ryan crossed his arms, a relaxed smile on his lips, thinking: The light-element magic Derrick just unleashed is enough to attract the academy's attention. Even if he loses now, the academy's instructors will certainly compete to recruit him as a disciple.

  He never expected Derrick to win across four levels; calling him a genius was just rhetoric to motivate his student. You can't tell your own disciple he's worthless.

  Darlene, meanwhile, looked at Derrick's bloodied figure and secretly laughed.

  She smugly thought: That brat was all talk earlier, wasn't he? Now he's so badly injured, he won't last long before conceding. Next, I'll have to mock him properly and make him regret calling me Old Witch.