He was no longer a beggar. With the panel in his possession, the path ahead would be one of endless corpses and rivers of blood, a path of slaughter.
Confidence had to be built from now!
If he couldn't even handle a minor setback, how would he face greater challenges in the future?
"My body may be weak, but I have courage. That makes me better than them. You can put your clothes here first."
While Fang Ling was looking for a suitable bed, Wang Sheng pointed to his own.
"You didn't bring any bedding, so you can leave your clothes on my bed for now. It's clean and free of dust."
"Okay." Fang Ling felt a touch of warmth in his heart and replied with a smile.
Wang Sheng's way of speaking was sharp and sarcastic. He always seemed to find people's sore spots and give them nicknames, acting like he was above everyone. But deep down, he didn't seem like a bad person.
Thinking about how he often stood up for the work-study students and took beatings on their behalf, it was understandable that he wanted some corresponding power. That was just human nature.
Still, being willing to build relationships with them was one thing. Revealing his own strength to avoid being bullied in the future was another.
Researching the panel was his top priority. Fang Ling had his own path to follow.
He absolutely couldn't be tied down by others.
After placing his clothes on Wang Sheng's bed, Fang Ling picked up the sickle again.
The bright silver blade looked as if it had just been sharpened.
Seeing the gleam, Wang Sheng's expression turned serious.
Then, with the help of the other students clearing the beds nearby, they set up a space for the duel.
This wasn't going to be an ordinary fight.
Even though the opponent was just a limping kid with little strength, he was holding a sharp weapon.
The sickle wasn't really a weapon-type martial soul, and the one in Fang Ling's hand was just a regular farming tool.
But looking at that glimmering edge, getting cut would definitely draw blood, it would definitely leave a wound.
Even if the academy's healing-type soul masters could treat it, it would still hurt.
Wang Sheng had a soul power of level eight, and his martial soul was the Battle Tiger, king of beasts. He was the strongest among the work-study students.
But he wasn't a true soul master yet. He couldn't just use his bare hands to block a blade.
So he had to be extra cautious.
"Wang Sheng, Martial Soul: Battle Tiger, Soul Power: Level Eight."
"Fang Ling, Martial Soul: Sickle, Soul Power: Level One."
Since it was just a sparring match, both sides announced their cultivation levels. Fang Ling didn't bother putting his left hand into the lime bag either.
Against a soul master with soul power protecting them, little tricks like that were pointless.
Hearing Fang Ling report his level, Wang Sheng felt assured.
In the soul master stage, the difference in soul power levels directly affected one's strength.
He was at level eight, while Fang Ling was just level one, and missing half of his left lower leg. He was clearly the one with the upper hand.
Since he had the advantage, he wanted to make sure Fang Ling didn't feel too pressured, and also to avoid any accidental deaths from a sparring match.
Wang Sheng took a deep breath and warned, "There are healing soul masters at the academy. Just don't aim for my neck or vital points. Any other injuries can be treated quickly."
With that, he started to approach Fang Ling.
He only had soul power level eight, no soul rings, and no ranged soul skills. Close combat was his only option.
He moved slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the sickle in Fang Ling's hand.
Wang Sheng was already eleven years old and had been at the academy for five years.
His combat skills weren't exactly refined, but he wasn't a novice either.
Even though he often stood up for others, he was used to getting beaten up, his face still bore bruises from past fights.
Still, through years of getting beaten, he had learned a few things.
He had his own way of dealing with opponents who used weapon-type martial souls. The key was to never let the weapon out of sight.
Right now, he was waiting for the right opportunity.
Wang Sheng's movements were cautious and slow. Fang Ling had no intention of waiting.
He was going to take the initiative.
"No stalling, let's finish this quickly!"
With a cold snort, his wooden prosthetic, stripped of its cotton stuffing, slammed onto the stone floor.
A dull thud echoed.
The sickle tilted slightly in his grip as Fang Ling held the wooden handle tightly. Using the momentum of his charge, he swung his arm upward diagonally.
The sharp blade of the sickle slashed straight toward Wang Sheng's abdomen.
But Wang Sheng had been watching closely, waiting for just this moment.
He planned to use his longer reach and faster speed to strike the side of the sickle and slap it aside.
Fang Ling attacked with his right hand; Wang Sheng used his left. His move came from the outside in, pressing down.
As long as he made contact, Wang Sheng was confident that his strong body would guarantee his victory.
To be cautious, and to avoid getting cut, he let out a low growl and activated his martial soul.
A faint yellow glow instantly enveloped his body, boosting his speed and strength.
This was the power of the Battle Tiger!
Using a martial soul this early?
Fang Ling's heart sank. He had assumed Wang Sheng would be arrogant because of his limp and small build.
He didn't expect him to activate his martial soul right at the start.
This was going to be tough.
Fang Ling shifted his strength and adjusted his position.
He couldn't let Wang Sheng strike the side of the sickle.
Otherwise, the sheer force would drag his entire body, and he'd lose for sure.
He gritted his teeth and gave it everything he had.
But the five-year age gap and the powerful beast-type martial soul gave Wang Sheng too much of an edge. Fang Ling couldn't react fast enough.
Just as Wang Sheng was about to land a hit, a flash of insight sparked in Fang Ling's mind.
With a faint shimmer, the sickle martial soul vanished from his hand.
Wang Sheng's strike hit nothing but air.
The force behind his swing wasn't huge, but the sudden miss threw him off balance.
He ended up leaning too far, his body tilting awkwardly.
His eyes widened in alarm.
Damn it, not again! He'd forgotten that weapon-type martial souls could disappear!
Fang Ling kept charging forward. After Wang Sheng's arm swept past, he pushed off with his left foot, angled his body, and re-summoned the sickle in his left hand.
This time, he held it in a reverse grip and used his full strength.
But he didn't use the blade. He struck with the back of the sickle.
Even with soul power for defense, how tough could a soul master's body be?
One solid hit would definitely draw blood.
But if he went too far, he'd only enrage Wang Sheng and make him fight even harder.
That wasn't what Fang Ling wanted.
He just needed Wang Sheng, and everyone else, to know that he wasn't someone to mess with.
He wasn't fighting because he wanted to make enemies. He just didn't want to be ordered around.
In the next moment, the back of the sickle slammed into Wang Sheng's stomach.
Fang Ling was small and the sickle wasn't heavy, but the force of his charge made the blow powerful.
If he could carve out a prosthetic from broken wood, the one thing he did have was arm strength.
The metal blade struck Wang Sheng's vulnerable abdomen hard, making him cry out in pain.
His insides churned, and he staggered back several steps before regaining his balance.
But internally, he actually felt a bit relieved.
Wang Sheng asked in surprise, "Hey, cripple, no, Fang Ling, what was that?"
He hadn't followed up with another attack. That was odd.
After five years at the soul master academy, Wang Sheng could tell, Fang Ling had held back.
Fang Ling smiled and replied, "I only have level one soul power. I can't beat you."
If you want to read advanced chapter please subscribe to my : patreon.com/Moorowkeel