When it came to qualifications, Ruan Zhijun ranked somewhere in the middle among the teachers. But in terms of combat proficiency and strictness, he was undoubtedly in the top three.
This was why Class 5’s PE lessons felt more like boot camp.
Even so, Ruan Zhijun had a unique trait: he valued rules. Unlike other PE teachers who often extended lessons or encroached on cultural class time, Ruan strictly adhered to the school schedule. When the bell rang, class ended—no exceptions.
As for combat training, every student in Class 5 had experienced it during previous semester exams.
The memories were harrowing, leaving most students with nightmares or lingering aches in body parts that had been struck or fractured.
Now, the thought of directly facing their homeroom teacher in a combat exam—this time with weapons—made their scalps tingle.
Even the class monitor, who had always remained composed, was sweating and already warming up, preparing to activate the support features of her investigator gear.
Ruan Zhijun had no concept of going easy based on gender. On his first day as homeroom teacher, he had declared his philosophy:
“Only broken bones make the best textbooks.”
Yet, amidst the palpable tension, there was one exception—Luo Di, who looked forward to the challenge.
Due to the gymnasium’s large size, each class was allocated its own section for the Combat Test.
Class 5 was stationed in a spacious, enclosed training area. The students quickly lined up in their usual PE formation.
Ruan Zhijun, clad in his military uniform, wasted no time on pleasantries or praise for the monitor’s record-breaking performance. Instead, his expression remained as stern as always as he addressed the class:
“This test will differ from before.
You’ve trained under me for two and a half years.
Today, I will set the standard for the Graduation Exams.
If anyone gets seriously injured because they aren’t focused, they’d better be ready to fill out an application for delayed graduation.
And if you’re already scared, then give up on athletics and focus on your studies—settle for a desk job.
Also, don’t hold back. Show me everything you’ve got.”
As he finished, Ruan’s gaze lingered meaningfully on Luo Di.
“All right! Students 1 to 5, step forward! The rest of you, move behind the white line. The combat test starts now!”
The first five students quickly adjusted their stances, forming a loose circle around Ruan. Each was armed with their chosen weapon, mostly field combat blades, which were lightweight, agile, and ideal for close-quarters combat. Even the vice monitor, Gao Yuxuan, opted for one of these knives.
However, for the first time in their school experience, Ruan Zhijun drew a weapon of his own: a mechanical baton.
Though non-lethal by design and commonly used for subduing opponents, in Ruan’s hands, the baton could easily become a deadly weapon.
Two minutes passed.
The five students who had started in a circle were now scattered across the arena. Some groaned in pain; others were unconscious.
The rest of the class, witnessing this, gasped audibly. Anxiety surged as some students resorted to overdosing on supplements to suppress their fear.
The second group fared slightly better, lasting three minutes.
One student, however, was struck in the head and froze on the spot. The on-site medical team immediately rushed over, stabilized him, and escorted him to the school infirmary.
The third group included the class monitor.
Before entering the arena, she downed a small pill—something Luo Di hadn’t seen her do before. Judging by its size, it was likely a low-dose stabilizer meant to help her endure the strain of her investigator gear.
As she entered the combat area, the other four students in her group quickly surrounded her, forming a huddle to devise a strategy.
This time, instead of scattering, they stayed together as a unit.
Ruan Zhijun’s respect for the monitor was evident. Her leadership skills had made managing the class a breeze for him, and her academic performance—now coupled with her record-breaking sprint—was exemplary.
“Wu Wen,” Ruan said, addressing her directly, “where’s your sword? I remember you using one last semester during your highly praised swordsmanship demonstration.”
“Mr. Ruan, my body is still barely adapting to this gear.
Trying to use the gear’s features while focusing on swordsmanship would be too much for me right now.
I’ll try it next semester after more training. For today, I’ll stick to hand-to-hand combat.”
“Very well. Let’s begin.”
The group of five, armed with weapons except for the monitor, seemed poised to use her as their axis, launching attacks to protect her.
But unexpectedly—
Whoosh!
The monitor darted out from the group, adopting her sprinting stance and launching the first attack without waiting for her team’s support.
“Hmm?”
This unorthodox tactic caught Ruan slightly off guard. Her high kick aimed for his flank, forcing him to adjust his stance and raise his mechanical baton to block.
Smack!
The impact, enhanced by her investigator gear, was staggering. Ripples of energy visibly pulsed across her suit, and even Ruan, known for his rock-solid stance, was forced several steps sideways, losing his balance momentarily.
She had created an opening.
The remaining four students seized the opportunity, charging with their weapons from different angles to strike the off-balance teacher.
The monitor followed up as well. But just as she moved in, her eyes caught something—
She stopped abruptly, sensing danger.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Three students were struck in various vital points and collapsed instantly.
The fourth barely managed to evade by rolling backward, creating some distance.
In an instant, what had seemed like a promising start crumbled. The monitor and the remaining student, a girl named Xiaoying, were the only ones left standing.
Ruan Zhijun shook his head as he surveyed the fallen students.
“If you all had coordinated better with Wu Wen, I might have been overwhelmed.
But the fear in your hearts hasn’t disappeared, and your performance is even worse than in routine training.
At this rate, you’ll struggle to graduate.”
Xiaoying, the student who had evaded, began to panic.
Facing the teacher alongside the monitor felt like a losing battle. The image of a student frozen from a head strike earlier haunted her, and she feared losing her own chance at graduation due to serious injury.
Suddenly, a warm, reassuring hand rested gently on her shoulder.
A familiar voice, softer and more soothing than ever, reached her ears, as if it were stroking away her fear.
“Xiaoying, don’t worry. I’m still here.”
“Yes, monitor!” Xiaoying’s nerves steadied immediately, and her focus returned to the battle at hand.
The fight dragged on for five minutes.
Eventually, the monitor, exhausted, was knocked down and sent flying. Xiaoying soon followed, collapsing from fatigue. Fortunately, neither was seriously injured, and both avoided a trip to the infirmary.
As the match ended, the monitor stood up slowly, forgoing the rest area to approach Xiaoying. She placed a hand on the girl’s mushroom-shaped haircut and said warmly,
“Great teamwork out there. I couldn’t have lasted that long without you.
I hope you’ll do even better during the Graduation Exams!”
"Thank you, Monitor."
Xiaoying’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip shyly.
Just then, an entirely different presence emerged from outside the arena, passing by the class monitor. A faint, nauseating smell of decay lingered in the air.
The crouching monitor’s line of sight fell level with the figure’s hand hanging loosely at their side.
That hand, rough and calloused in a way no ordinary high schooler’s hand should be, gripped a knife wrapped tightly in a shroud cloth.
The monitor’s previously gentle expression vanished, replaced by one of shock and alarm.
“Luo Di! Are you planning to use that here?”
“Hmm...” Luo Di murmured, his voice calm and resolute.
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