Chapter 6: Smile :)

Running gambling pools during the random matchup tournament was a staple pastime for the Combat System students in the A-Rank Arena.

These pools varied in scale—big ones could rope in nearly everyone in the arena to place bets, while small ones were just casual group chats with friends, fooling around guessing the winners for the fun of it.

They didn’t always bet money; sometimes it was extreme challenges or “dares.” Earlier this month, Jiang Hehu must have lost a bet and gotten goaded into swapping his clothes for a West Street bar server’s uniform. Rumor had it he had to serve tea and pour drinks for those fellow S-Grade young masters once.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but things went sideways midway through, and he ended up clashing with people from the next room over. Surveillance caught Jiang Hehu using his Supernatural Ability off-campus to beat someone up.

By this point in the story, Wen Jiang already felt a faint sense of familiarity. The setup was straight out of one of the Drama Club’s novels—just swap out the “poor student working here to make ends meet because of their looks” trope. In reality, after changing clothes, it was debatable who was more qualified to “keep” whom.

He kept listening. According to Gao Mingcheng’s description, in the video, Jiang Hehu—from his right shoulder down to his right waist, half his body—was soaked in booze. He had grabbed a man’s collar, pinned him down, and was smashing fists into him one after another, each blow splattering beads of blood.

Recalling the scene, Gao Mingcheng shrank his neck like a timid quail. He figured his words couldn’t capture how terrifying it had been and asked if Wen Jiang could picture it.

Wen Jiang nodded cooperatively. He knew all too well—his card buddy Number 3 fought everyone like that.

Forget Qingchi; all of Yanhai strictly regulated private Supernatural Ability brawls. But rules were rigid, people were flexible—it all depended on who broke them. This footage, buried in a sea of data and meant to be quietly deleted, had been precisely locked down and exported early by [Electronic Data]. It now lay obediently in a folder Gao Mingcheng had created.

Gao Mingcheng hadn’t even realized what it was at first. He hadn’t recognized the attacker as Jiang Hehu, nor the expensive-looking guy getting pummeled on the floor. He’d just been doing a practical assignment: sorting surveillance footage from every bar on West Street by category. Leveraging his Supernatural Ability specialty, he’d finished with scary efficiency, startling his evaluators during handover.

Before Jiang Hehu tracked him down—with his lackey yanking Gao Mingcheng’s collar and declaring “you’re done for”—he’d been smug, lost in pure joy at the prospect of his ability getting an upgrade soon.

The first match in the A-Rank Arena wrapped up quickly. The second was Jiang Hehu’s turn, and Gao Mingcheng’s heart leaped into his throat. Now, he didn’t even need Wen Jiang prodding; to ease his nerves, he spilled all his pent-up frustrations like beans from a bag.

Jiang Hehu had told him to wise up, to stay out of sight, and threatened to beat him every time they crossed paths after letting him off this once. For the past couple days, he’d been racking his brains on how to safely bail from the Training Field.

Wen Jiang listened as Gao Mingcheng vented while fiddling with his computer. He got the gist. Seeing the guy’s face drain paler by the second—Jiang Hehu hadn’t even shown up yet, and he was scaring himself half to death—Wen Jiang cut to the chase: “He’s just trying to scare you. He won’t actually do anything to you.”

With Jiang Hehu’s personality, he’d vent his anger on the spot. There was no such thing as “next time we meet.” If he truly hated someone enough to cause a scene on sight, he’d have pushed for their expulsion from the start, nipping it in the bud so he’d never see them again.

Yet here Gao Mingcheng was, intact and unscathed. Clearly, it hadn’t escalated that far—he’d just been rattled hard.

Sure, terrorizing someone maliciously wasn’t great. Gao Mingcheng already looked mentally worn out. If forced to choose between a haunted house and a real ghost out for blood, you’d pick the former. Wen Jiang didn’t expect his conclusion to fully reassure the guy. He twirled a black pen idly in his fingers and just reminded him: “You’re here on Wen Tianlu’s orders.”

The guy had a Student Council pass and was working under their banner. Wen Tianlu had summoned him. For Gao Mingcheng to dread facing Jiang Hehu this badly yet show up anyway—without even faking sick—spoke volumes if there wasn’t some hidden reason. It meant their president, his card buddy Number 1, wasn’t exactly beloved among Student Council members.

But on the surface, being “one of their own” counted for something. Wen Jiang reassured him: “If he let you get beat up willy-nilly, it’d make him look bad too.”

Number 1 and Number 3 weren’t mortal enemies. To them, this was probably both sides stepping back. Jiang Hehu wouldn’t actually hit Gao Mingcheng, but he was vindictive—he needed to see something that made him happy if he wasn’t throwing punches. He wanted Gao Mingcheng pale-faced, legs shaking, maybe even making a bigger fool of himself.

Wen Tianlu would turn a blind eye. A little scare was fine, but nothing serious. Once Jiang Hehu got bored, they’d dust hands and call it done—no hard feelings, and back to card games like nothing happened.

Though who knew if they played without him around.

People subconsciously believed what they desperately hoped for. Wen Jiang’s take didn’t sting, at least. Gao Mingcheng still fretted but couldn’t really argue back. Glancing at Wen Jiang’s breezy demeanor and recalling his rep around school, his internal scales tipped further toward trusting him.

“If only that were true…” Gao Mingcheng murmured softly. Half his held breath eased out—until the electronic system announced the next matchup. Jiang Hehu’s name popped up, sucking the rest right back in.

In stark contrast, earth-shattering cheers erupted from the third-floor stands. No matter the behind-the-scenes gossip, the Training Field judged by strength alone—or rather, Super A and S-Grade ratings were capital for strutting around in the first place.

Random matchups were pure luck; skill levels didn’t always match. Against Jiang Hehu, his opponent paled, drawing only scattered polite cheers. Jiang Hehu stood casually on the right side of the central platform, not even bothering with his foe. His gaze swept boredly around instead of across.

When it flicked toward the Training Field recorder’s spot, Gao Mingcheng’s stomach clenched hard. But then familiarity hit—like with Wen Tianlu, Jiang Hehu’s eyes skimmed right over him and landed first on Wen Jiang beside him. Wen Jiang noticed and gave a lazy hand-raise as greeting.

Gao Mingcheng recalled Wen Jiang’s attitude toward the president and suddenly got it. Wen Jiang’s Supernatural Ability rank even outstripped Jiang Hehu’s. Whatever his top-tier social scene was really like, he at least crossed paths with these guys often. Even if it was all speculation before, his guesses beat Gao Mingcheng’s blind worrying any day.

Jiang Hehu frowned at the half-hearted wave, not looking angry though. Then he remembered spotting someone familiar earlier. His gaze shifted back, lingering leisurely on Gao Mingcheng’s face.

Gao Mingcheng’s back went ice-cold. Jiang Hehu’s expression suggested he’d finally placed him from the panicked look. Then he smiled. His features were stunningly handsome—probably how the fight even started. The smile was honey over a blade, gleaming with malice like amber honey laced with venom.

The opponent on the left noticed Jiang Hehu’s attention elsewhere but showed no annoyance, still eyeing him warily. He was built twice as burly—a true mountain of muscle, tiger-back and bear-waist. He raised one hand, and five massive iron orbs floated up, orbiting his body slowly. By comparison, Jiang Hehu looked all alone and pitiful, like one hit would send him flying.

Gao Mingcheng had never entered the Training Field, but he knew the basics. Supernatural Abilities meant you couldn’t judge strength by build—like in those cultivation novels, where an elegant immortal with arms slimmer than another’s wrist could fell ten burly brutes with a flick.

Jiang Hehu looked like a refined young master untouched by worldly dust—which he was—but he stood there lazily loosening his wrists. Most in the arena, including his opponent, probably never considered him losing.

Huh? Then what’s that S-Grade Wen Jiang’s physical strength like…? Gao Mingcheng’s gaze drifted to him unconsciously.

Wen Jiang was silently narrating Jiang Hehu’s inner monologue. The iron orbs moved by Supernatural Ability, clanging metallically on occasional bumps. Jiang Hehu’s face soured at the noise. Wen Jiang figured he was thinking, Annoying as hell—gonna dump all these junk balls on your head soon.

The left guy’s face stayed neutral, mouth corners twitching down. He was probably inwardly cursing adding that extra orb—control slipping now. After a beat, he ditched one as strategy.

Left struck first, targeting Jiang Hehu’s lower body to test depths—or not, with that strength he’d dodge easy. It was a feint; he had a follow-up— Wen Jiang’s thoughts paused. He sensed something, turned, and caught Gao Mingcheng staring hopefully. After a silent moment, inspiration struck, and he said straight: “Pure physical fight, I couldn’t take him.”

…Yeah. Lifestyle System knew Lifestyle System best. Gao Mingcheng sheepishly pursed his lips. Wen Jiang pondered seriously, then added: “If he doesn’t use his ability, though… probably could.”

Wait—is that both not using abilities, or just him? Gao Mingcheng nearly asked but dropped it. Same old story—Lifestyle Systems, am I right?

Either way, he’d decided to trust Wen Jiang—and the official tests. Super A wasn’t S-Grade. Sure, he’d been jumpy and stomach-sick since arriving, but that was normal. Wen Jiang had been rock-solid reliable.

Reliable Wen Jiang glanced at the arena and suddenly said: “Might be some trouble soon.”

“…” Gonna need stomach meds. Gao Mingcheng adjusted his glasses and croaked: “What kind of trouble?”

It tied back to his earlier conclusion. The black ballpoint spun a loop in Wen Jiang’s fingers, then he gripped it. Onstage, Jiang Hehu dodged an incoming orb with a sidestep; it thudded dully into the ground.

“Like I said, Jiang Hehu wants to scare you. He’ll probably pull something today too.”

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Three more orbs smashed down. Jiang Hehu suddenly intercepted one mid-flight. The hurtling iron met an invisible sturdy net on contact. Riding the momentum, he spun half a circle on one foot, steadied, then leaned forward and hurled it back at his opponent’s face—faster than it came.

“If I weren’t here, he’d find another way to spook you. Me being here removes his restraint… might make it worse. Should be coming now.”

S-Grade Lifestyle Systems entering needed safety waivers; extra precautions prevented mishaps. Treating the stage noise as background, Wen Jiang’s tone stayed even. He spun the pen once more, then set it atop his notebook on the chair. Gao Mingcheng’s eyes involuntarily followed to his hand.

Slender, well-jointed, beautiful—like when Wen Jiang reached out to the Qingchi Theater audience from stage. But now, a black Ring gleamed on it. Next instant, the chair screeched as Wen Jiang shoved it back and leaned toward him.

—Huh? What?

Bang—!

An explosion cracked nearby. Gao Mingcheng’s thoughts cut off; his vision went pure white.

In his periphery, a black shadow slammed into a suddenly deployed blue-green protective membrane—like a bird smashing concrete. It crumpled to the ground with a thud.

Wen Jiang still shielded Gao Mingcheng’s face with the notebook, turning toward the central platform. Jiang Hehu had just booted his opponent’s last iron orb straight at them. Under Wen Jiang’s gaze, he smirked, then called out shamelessly: “Whoops, foot slipped!”

The stands buzzed. Gao Mingcheng vaguely heard questions, names dropped. He blinked slowly; his palms slicked with belated sweat. But without seeing the orb barreling at him head-on, he didn’t pale in terror.

He could only see the words on Wen Jiang’s paper.

“Smile :)”