Thus began the first class president selection competition.
I don’t know which kind of school turns into a boxing ring right after enrollment, but since this is a martial arts world, I decided to roll with it.
After all, these “warrior” types prefer fighting with swords rather than words.
“…Why do we have to fight as well?”
“They say the strongest in the class becomes the president. It can’t be helped.”
Tang Sosu nonchalantly prepared to fight while saying that. I thought this guy must also be a little off his rocker as I surveyed the faces of my opponents.
Class A is, as the name suggests, an elite class filled with students who scored at the very top of the entrance exams.
Each one boasts titles like “third disciple of a top sect,” “successor of an undefeated martial arts faction,” or “once-in-a-century prodigy.”
Some of them are sure to become the future stars of the martial arts world.
Among the many students, three stood out in particular.
Namgoong Ruby, the only recommended student of the 97th batch; Dokgorin, who had easily subdued the challenging exam administrator; and finally, Hyecheong, the so-called “undying prodigy” of the Shaolin.
Why isn’t my name among the top three?
Well, that’s because I was assessed based solely on pure physical strength, excluding intellect.
No matter how fast I became strong, I still paled in comparison to those who had trained in martial arts since childhood.
Anyway, the presidential selection competition kicked off.
Since it wasn’t a one-on-one fight but rather a battle royale where the last person standing wins, some alliances started forming on the spot.
The advantage of making an alliance? You could split the positions of president and vice-president between yourselves!
But true strong characters don’t form groups.
Watching those who formed alliances recklessly charge at the candidates only to be instantly crushed, everyone realized it was a meaningless act.
“Who do you think will win?”
As I leaned against someone and surveyed the other students, I asked Tang Sosu.
“I don’t know! The strong person will win!” came her breathless reply.
“Fair enough.”
Right now, who among the three is the strongest is unknown.
Dokgorin might become a great expert in the future, but that’s all speculation.
Currently, the three who are regarded as the top competitors likely all possess peak-level skills.
With the entry into the 21st century and the power inflation not just in fantasy but in martial arts as well, it has been quite some time since the once-peaking peak-level experts turned into a commodity that every sect possesses dozens of.
However, even if the status of peak-level experts has diminished compared to the past, they are still those whom ordinary folks like us could never defeat even in dozens.
Each individual is a human weapon, not strange to be called one against a hundred.
Though right now it seemed like chaos, over time, the weak would fall and only the strong would remain.
“But why is everyone fighting so seriously?”
Only about ten people raised their hands wanting to be president earlier.
Curious about what I’ve been wondering, I asked, and Tang Sosu replied, almost incredulously.
“Isn’t the president supposed to know this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Officially, it’s for selecting the president and vice-president, but this actual fight is part of establishing ranks.”
“Oh.”
Indeed, if that’s the reason, then even those who weren’t interested in the president position would have motivation suddenly.
It’s not just the president and vice-president that’s at stake; if one’s position in the class is determined through this fight, it would ignite a newfound desire.
“And the ranking felt through one’s own body will resonate stronger than the ranking set by the school.”
If they organized this whole fight anticipating such things, the homeroom teacher must be quite the strategist.
“Hahaha, everyone is young and healthy, so they’re fighting well. This is fun.”
…Is it not epic?
While I was lost in thought, suddenly—
“Vulnerability!”
One of the classmates launched a surprise attack.
“I wish they hadn’t said anything.”
Seeing them shout about a vulnerability while launching their sneak attack showed they clearly misunderstood the concept of a sneak attack.
I quickly bound the hand of the male student attacking me with the hidden thread in my sleeve, then yanked it hard.
“Eh?” He said, getting pulled towards me.
I struck his chin with my knee, then tripped him as he lost his balance.
Though this is a competition, since it’s still part of the presidential selection, I shouldn’t deliver a blow that could kill my opponent.
Therefore, while facing an enemy, I also need to adjust my strength, which is quite bothersome.
“Damn it!”
The male student, having hit the ground and disqualified, shouted in frustration, but no one paid him any mind.
In the martial world, being weak is almost a crime.
And that also applies to this school, which acts as a microcosm of society.
“Ugh!”
Was the earlier student’s mistake a lesson for her? Another female student charged at me, wielding an iron fan.
The iron fan is a weapon rarely seen, but it’s certainly not a weak weapon.
It can be a club when closed and a sword when opened.
Aside from its short reach, it’s quite a threatening weapon.
Just like I did with the earlier male student, I launched my thread attack, and the girl deftly blocked it with her fan.
“Hmph! Do you think I’d fall for the same trick?”
“Getting hit, though.”
“…What?”
I purposefully shot the thread slowly to draw her attention toward my upper body, then secretly pulled the thread around her legs, making her lose her balance and fall backward.
However, it seems she had no intention of falling easily; she hastily planted both hands on the ground, attempting to do a backflip, but Tang Sosu was having none of it.
“Ah!”
“You’re throwing down the gauntlet with this level of skill?”
With just a small kick to the exposed abdomen of the female student sprawled on the ground, Tang Sosu clucked in disbelief.
Seeing her act like this, she certainly has a ruthless side, especially as a daughter of the Tang family, but when she stands in front of Dokgorin, she shrinks back into nothing.
“What’s with that ambiguous gaze?”
“Hey, I’m cheering you on.”
“…?”
Tang Sosu’s expression turned even more bewildered.
But I decided to leave the explanation out of it.
*
After nearly thirty minutes of the presidential selection competition,
Most students had been eliminated, leaving only seven standing on the field.
“I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
“Hmph, the top new student didn’t earn it for free, you know?”
As I muttered this, Samajak stuck out his tongue in response.
With that androgynous appearance, he was unnecessarily cute.
“But he’s a guy.”
I muttered to myself as I clenched my right fist.
“Honestly, I have no interest in the president position, but we still need to settle who’s stronger among us.”
“That’s what I wanted.”
With that, Samajak also tightened his fists.
It seems he, like me, is a martial artist.
From his small physique radiated a strong energy, indicating that his martial arts style is of a very domineering nature.
Just as the tension rose between us in a standoff—
“Wait!”
Suddenly someone intruded between the two of us.
“…?”
Turning to see what the commotion was about, a handsome boy in a white martial outfit bowed his head to Samajak.
“Samajak, I apologize for interrupting your fight, but could you please yield a chance to fight that man to me?”
“Excuse me? What do you mean all of a sudden…”
“Ichilbok, that man holds an old grudge against me. Please, I beg you to yield just once.”
As he begged again, Samajak looked troubled.
“No, you can’t just say that in this situation…”
Listening to their conversation, I couldn’t help but ask in disbelief.
“Who the hell are you to suddenly claim you want to fight me?”
The boy glared at me, flames pouring from his eyes.
“Do you not remember my face?! I cannot forget the humiliation I received from you that day!”
Humiliation? What is this guy rambling on about?
Thinking back, I searched my memory to see if I had done something bad, but I couldn’t recall his face at all.
“Uh… Can you tell me when this grudge came about? I really apologize, but I can’t remember.”
Suddenly the boy, charging at me with hostility, pointed his finger in exasperation.
“It was two years ago! We met here in Chang’an, and you’re still trying to play dumb?!”
Two years ago? Chang’an?
As the two keywords suddenly hit me, the boy, realizing I truly didn’t remember him, shouted with anger.
“It’s me! The third disciple of the Hwasan Sect! Cheongsong!”
Uh, who is that, really?
At this point, it seems he realized I seriously didn’t remember him, turning even redder with rage and shouted.
“Uurgh! Ichilbok! Today, I will defeat you and confess my feelings to Dokgo Sojeo!”
…Seriously? Declaring an NTR in the middle of this?
