The Strongest Student of the Weakest Academy - Chapter 68

Chapter 68: The Moonlight Swordsman (XXXIV)

The crowd was still screaming.

The energy in the underground arena was wild, almost chaotic.

“Ahh… fuu…”

Aestrea stood there, his breath coming out in short, cold puffs, his body still tense from the battle.

His clothes were torn, and his shoulder was bleeding, but his hands were steady on the hilts of his swords.

Kagetaro had escaped.

That slippery bastard had slipped away right when Aestrea had landed the final blow.

The cut had been deep—it should’ve been fatal.

But no body meant no kill, and that meant he was still out there somewhere.

“Damn it…” Aestrea clicked his tongue, rolling his shoulder as he sheathed his swords.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, drowning out his thoughts.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—THE FINAL WINNER OF THE DEATH TOURNAMENT… MOONLIGHT SWORDSMAN!”

The roar of the crowd was loud.

“WOOOOOOO!!!”

“BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”

“THAT WAS INSANE!!”

Aestrea ignored them.

His glowing crimson eyes swept across the arena, scanning for any lingering threats.

But there was nothing left—only the wreckage of their battle, the frozen ground, and the bloodstains marking the arena’s floor.

It was over.

He had won.

And yet… something felt wrong.

He turned his head slightly.

His sharp gaze locked onto the VIP balcony.

Up there, hidden behind the one-way glass, the big shots of this underground tournament were watching.

The ones who had wanted him dead.

The ones who had bet everything on his failure.

Aestrea smirked slightly.

‘They must be pissed…’

He slowly started walking towards the VIP balcony.

.

.

.

.

.

Inside a lavish, dimly lit room above the arena, a group of powerful figures sat in silence.

The air was thick with tension.

No one spoke.

No one moved…

CRASH!!!

A glass of expensive wine shattered against the wall, dark red liquid dripping down like blood.

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!” a deep voice roared.

The speaker was a tall, muscular man with sharp eyes and a scar running down his cheek.

His suit was expensive, but the way he carried himself was more like a brute than a businessman.

His name was Daimon Blackfang, one of the key sponsors of the Death Tournament.

He wasn’t alone.

At the large round table, several other dangerous figures sat, all dressed in expensive suits and robes, each one more furious than the last.

An old man with golden rings on his fingers gritted his teeth.

His name was Grandmaster Hui, the leader of one of the underground assassin’s guilds.

“This wasn’t the plan,” he muttered.

“The Modified Human we sent was supposed to be perfect. She was made to kill people like Moonlight Swordsman. Yet he’s still alive.”

A woman in a crimson dress—Madam Wei, the madam from the Wei Family—crossed her legs slowly.

“This is a disgrace,” she said coldly, her painted lips pressing into a thin line. “That assassin was one of our lab’s finest creations. She should have killed Aestrea easily”

A man with sharp eyes and a mechanical hand, Lord Vance, scoffed. “Well, she didn’t. And now, that brat is walking away with our tournament victory.”

“Not to mention… that bitch is going to get the reward!” Madam Wei bit her lips tightly, clutching her fists.

All of them usually distributed the reward between them, but now, they had completely lost it, and they even lost it to their worst enemy.

A heavy silence followed.

None of them had expected this outcome.

None of them had planned for this.

They had poured thousands of platinum coins into this bet.

And now, the one man they wanted dead was still standing.

Thud!

“We need to fix this. Immediately.” Daimon said angrily, slamming his fist onto the table.

“Agreed. We can’t let him walk away.” Grandmaster Hui nodded.

“We should kill him before he leaves the arena,” Lord Vance suggested, his metal fingers clicking against the wooden table.

“Too late.” Madam Wei sighed, swirling the wine in her glass.

“By now, he’s already being escorted out. If we move against him now, it’ll be too obvious. Our reputation will go even lower, granting more chances for that bitch to rise.”

There was another heavy silence.

But then…

BOOM!

The double doors to the room EXPLODED inward.

The entire room shook as the wooden doors were blasted clean off their hinges, flying across the room like broken debris.

They crashed into the wall with a loud noise, leaving behind a cloud of dust and splinters.

And standing in the doorway…

Was Yara.

She stepped inside, her black high heels clicking against the polished floor. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, her dark eyes burning with fury.

The scent of her intoxicating perfume filled the air, but there was no trace of her usual playful smirk.

This was not the usual teasing, seductive Yara.

This was a monster in human form.

Her cold, razor-sharp gaze swept across the room.

And then…

She spoke.

“How dare you harm my baby?”

Her voice was low, but high enough to reach their ears.

Dangerous.

Daimon’s breath hitched.

Madam Wei’s fingers trembled slightly around her glass.

Even Grandmaster Hui, who had faced countless assassins in his lifetime, felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple.

Because they all knew—

Yara wasn’t just some woman.

She was the most dangerous person in the underground world and one of the few SS-rank in the entire world.

Not to mention, she was the “bitch” they wanted to get rid of.

And right now?

She was furious.

After a few minutes, Daimon was the first to recover.

He scowled, stepping forward.

“Yara, he’s just another challenger, besides you know the rules of the underground, right?” he growled.

“This has nothing to do with you. Back off,” he warned her coldly.

Yara’s eyes flickered slightly at his words.

Then—

CRACK!

Before anyone could react, Yara vanished from her spot.

In an instant, she was right in front of Daimon—her heel slamming into his knee.

SNAP!

“GAAAAAAAAAHH!”

Daimon let out a bloodcurdling scream as his leg bent the wrong way.

He collapsed to the floor, clutching his knee, his face twisted in agony.

Yara didn’t even look at him.

She turned to the others, her lips curling into a deadly smile.

“You really thought you could try to kill my baby and get away with it?” she asked sweetly.

Lord Vance’s metal hand clenched.

“We had our reasons,” he said stiffly. “The boy—”

BANG!

Yara casually lifted her hand, making a gun gesture—and shot him.

The mana bullet pierced his mechanical hand, making sparks fly.

“AGHH!”

Lord Vance hissed, grabbing his damaged limb, but Yara was already moving.

She stepped towards the table, placing her hands on the polished wood.

Her nails tapped against the surface.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

“You see… I don’t mind all of you plotting against me, but…” she began, her voice soft. “How dare you send someone to kill my dear baby?”

Her eyes darkened completely.

“I could kill all of you right now. It’d be so easy.”

“But my baby won. Fair and square.”

She tilted her head, her dark hair falling over her shoulder.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.”

She pointed a delicate finger at each of them.

“You will not lay a hand on him ever again.”

Her tone was final.

Absolute.

Madam Wei swallowed.

Grandmaster Hui clenched his jaw.

Daimon—still writhing on the floor—was too busy gasping in pain to respond.

And then, with a smirk, Yara turned on her heel and walked towards the door.

Just before she left—she glanced over her shoulder.

Her eyes gleamed.

“Oh, and one more thing…”

She smiled.

“If you even think about trying again… I’ll rip your hearts out myself.”

Then, just like that, she was gone.

And in the silence that followed, one thing was clear—

They had just made a very, very big mistake.

“FUCK!”

Daimon shouted.

He was still on the floor, panting through clenched teeth, his leg twisted at a sickening angle. The pain was unbearable, but not nearly as bad as the fury boiling inside him.

“Ahh…”

Grandmaster Hui let out a slow, shaky breath. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up his glass of wine—his grip tight enough to crack the crystal.

He took a sip, trying to regain his composure.

No one spoke for a long time.

Then—

SMASH!

Lord Vance slammed his damaged metal hand onto the table, his face twisted in barely contained rage.

“THAT. BITCH.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.

“We can’t let this stand.”

“She made a mockery of us,” Madam Wei said quietly, her voice cold as ice.

She was usually composed, but now, she was still gripping her wine glass so hard her knuckles had gone white.

“She’s too strong,” Grandmaster Hu admitted his voice even. “Much stronger than I expected. But strength doesn’t make someone untouchable.”

Grandmaster Hui leaned back in his chair, his golden rings glinting under the dim lights.

Daimon finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position, his breaths ragged. His forehead was slick with sweat, but his eyes were filled with murderous intent.

“I want her dead,” he growled, his voice filled with killing intent.

“And I want that brat Aestrea’s head on a pike.”

A deadly silence followed.

Then, slowly, Madam Wei set down her glass and spoke.

“You’re right.”

Her lips curled into a smirk, but there was no amusement in her eyes.

“They both need to die.”

Lord Vance flexed his injured metal hand, sparks still flickering from where the bullet had hit.

“We invested too much in this tournament to let that kid walk away alive. And Yara? She’s a problem we should’ve handled a long time ago.”

Daimon gritted his teeth at Vance’s words.

“But we can’t take her head-on,” he admitted, bitterly.

Grandmaster Hui nodded.

“No, we can’t.” He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “She’s too strong, too fast. If we try to fight her directly, she’ll carve through us before we can even blink.”

Madam Wei sighed, swirling the last of her wine.

“Then we don’t fight her directly.”

Daimon narrowed his eyes at her before asking:

“What are you saying?”

She glanced at him, her red-painted lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“I’m saying…” she drawled, “we don’t need to fight her. We just need to make sure she’s not there when Aestrea dies.”

Lord Vance raised an eyebrow.

“You have a plan?”

Madam Wei’s eyes gleamed.

“I do.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“We split them up. Isolate the boy. Make him vulnerable. And when the time is right…”

Fwip!

She mimicked a slicing motion across her neck.

“Not bad. But how do we keep Yara occupied?” Grandmaster Hui nodded slowly.

Madam Wei chuckled. “Oh, that part’s easy.”

She glanced at Daimon. “You still have contacts in the government, don’t you?”

Daimon, still grimacing in pain, nodded stiffly.

“I do.”

Madam Wei’s smirk widened.

“Good. Then we’ll have them put out a bounty.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then—

Lord Vance’s lips twisted into a wicked grin.

“Oh… now that’s interesting.”

Grandmaster Hui’s eyes flicked in interest

“A bounty on Yara herself?”

“No,” Madam Wei said smoothly, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

She tilted her head.

“We put a bounty on Aestrea.”

Daimon’s eyes widened slightly—then a slow, cruel smile spread across his face.

If they put out a high-profile bounty on Aestrea, the underground would erupt. Every assassin, every hunter, every desperate mercenary would be after him.

And Yara?

She’d be too busy fighting off an endless wave of killers to protect him.

And when she was exhausted, weakened—that’s when they’d strike.

Lord Vance leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And just to make it interesting… let’s offer a reward they can’t refuse.”

Grandmaster Hui steepled his fingers, considering.

“100 Platinum Coins…?”

“Too low.” Madam Wei chuckled.

“10.000 Platinum Coins,” Daimon rasped.

Silence.

Madam Wei grinned.

“Now that,” she said, “is a bounty worth chasing.”

Lord Vance let out a low whistle. “10.000 Platinum Coins for the head of Aestrea… We won’t just get assassins. We’ll get the best.”

Daimon chuckled darkly, the pain in his leg now seemed like a distant memory.

“We’re about to watch the whole world come for that brat.”

Madam Wei raised her glass.

“Then let’s drink to his death.”

Grandmaster Hui smirked and lifted his own glass.

Lord Vance followed.

Even Daimon, gritting his teeth, managed to grab a drink.

As their glasses clinked together, the air in the room turned dangerous.

Their plan was set.

But then…

“Well, well… isn’t this such a beautiful scene to see?”

A voice—smooth, mocking—cut through the air like a sword.

The room immediately froze.

Slowly, their gazes snapped toward the ruined doorway—the place where the doors should have been.

And there—standing just at the threshold—

Two glowing red eyes with a faint scarlet smoke seeping out of them, pierced through the dim light, looking at them sharply.

The figure stepped forward, calm, almost lazy in his movements.

Tap… tap… tap…

His boots clicked softly against the floor.

The shadows around him shifted, revealing a face half-lit by the flickering chandelier above.

His lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

And then, he spoke again.

“Isn’t it better to finish the job directly?”

His fingers moved with slow, deliberate ease—grasping the hilts of the two swords at his waist.

Shing…!

The sound of steel sliding free from its sheath filled the air, sharp and deadly.

In that moment,

A cold sweat formed on the foreheads of the big shots at the table.

And for the first time that night—

The hunters felt like prey.