82: Chapter 82 is nothing special.

*Drip.*

Blood dripped down Zhao Kuang's twisted fingertips, falling onto the shattered alloy floor of the stage.

The massive holographic Arena, capable of holding a hundred thousand people, was now so deathly silent that even the sound of this single drop of blood hitting the ground could be heard with absolute clarity.

No one spoke.

No one even dared to breathe heavily.

The image on the giant screen was frozen at this very second.

Just a few seconds ago, Zhao Kuang, the S-Grade Genius who wore armor worth tens of millions, unleashed a sea of fire reaching thousands of degrees, and carried himself with the insufferable arrogance of a god, was now slumped beneath the energy shield at the edge of the stage like a heap of boneless mud.

His right arm was twisted into a bizarre, pretzel-like shape, and the Brilliant Gold Battle Armor he was so proud of had turned into a pile of scrap metal fragments on the ground.

Standing in the center of the stage was that F-grade trash who didn't even possess any psionic energy.

And he had only used two fingers.

*Clang.*

The microphone on the commentator's desk slipped from the commentator's hand and crashed onto the table, emitting a harsh, screeching feedback.

This sound acted like a switch, instantly shattering the deathly silence of the entire venue.

"Two fingers... shattered an S-grade battle armor?"

"That's fucking tens of millions! An absolute defense forged by an Advanced Blacksmith! Broken like a cracker just like that?!"

"He didn't use any Martial Skills! No psionic energy! He didn't even release his blood qi!"

The students in the spectator stands clutched their heads, their worldviews completely collapsing at this moment.

"This... this is fake, right?"

In the VIP section, several young masters from noble families felt their legs go weak, collapsing directly into their chairs. "Zhao Kuang is an Early-stage Martial Artist! He even burned his Essence Blood! How could he not even withstand a single strike?!"

This was no simple plot twist.

This was dragging the "Prodigy Myth" and "Elemental Supremacy" that these noble scions had believed in since childhood right off their pedestals, tossing them into the mud, and trampling them to pieces!

On the stage.

Su Chen slowly lowered his right hand.

The deep, pitch-black Haki at his fingertips quickly receded back into his body like an ebbing tide, returning his skin to its original color.

Su Chen didn't look at the clamor around him, walking step by step toward the edge of the stage.

Zhao Kuang leaned against the protective shield, his vision already blurred by blood and cold sweat.

A piercing pain radiated from his right arm and chest, but he seemed unable to feel it anymore. When he heard the gradually approaching footsteps and saw those black tactical boots stop in front of him, Zhao Kuang shuddered violently.

He looked up with difficulty, staring at Su Chen, who was looking down at him from above.

In those deep, pitch-black eyes...

...there was no excitement of defeating a powerful enemy, nor any relief of surviving a near-death experience.

There was only a calm indifference, as if looking at a dead object.

The pride, arrogance, and absolute contempt for commoners that once filled Zhao Kuang's eyes vanished without a trace at this moment.

All that remained was an endless dread.

A dread that completely swallowed him like a black hole.

"Don't... don't kill me..."

Zhao Kuang opened his mouth, blood continuously pouring from the corners of his lips. His teeth chattered wildly, and his voice was raspy.

He didn't want to die.

He was the heir of the Zhao Financial Group, he had endless money to spend, and he had a bright future ahead of him. How could he die at the hands of a piece of trash!

"I... I surren—"

Zhao Kuang summoned the absolute last of his strength, wanting to shout the words "surrender." As long as he shouted it, the referee would intervene, and the exam venue's protective Formation would forcibly teleport him out.

But he didn't get the chance.

Su Chen didn't give him the right to finish his sentence at all.

"Bang!"

Su Chen directly raised his right foot, clad in a tactical boot, aimed at Zhao Kuang's face—which was covered in blood and dirt—and stomped down heavily without a shred of mercy!

This stomp didn't employ any Haki, but the power of the Martial Artist Realm was still overwhelmingly unstoppable.

The back of Zhao Kuang's head slammed violently against the alloy floor behind him.

*Crack.*

The sound of his nasal bone fracturing was incredibly crisp.

Su Chen ground Zhao Kuang's head firmly under his foot, pressing it into the shattered metal debris and bloody water.

No matter how desperately Zhao Kuang's remaining left hand slapped at Su Chen's calf, Su Chen's foot remained as immovable as an unshakeable steel spike.

A hundred thousand pairs of eyes in the venue...

...and dozens of hovering cameras...

...all focused their lenses on this scene at this very moment.

On the giant screen, that once insufferably arrogant S-grade Prodigy was now like a dead dog pinned by its vitals, struggling and whimpering desperately under Su Chen's foot, unable to even lift his head.

Su Chen slipped his hands back into the pockets of his black combat uniform.

He looked down from above at Zhao Kuang beneath his foot.

There was no victor's joy in his eyes, nor any pity for the weak.

Only an absolute, chilling coldness.

Su Chen parted his thin lips slightly.

His voice had no inflection, yet it was transmitted clearly and chillingly into everyone's eardrums through the hundreds of high-power loudspeakers throughout the venue.

"S-Grade Talent?"

Su Chen spoke indifferently.

"Nothing more than this."

These four words were like the loudest slap, fiercely striking the faces of all the noble scions in the audience.

In the VIP stands...

...Liu Ruyan's legs gave out, and she collapsed directly onto the floor. Staring at Su Chen's cold profile on the giant screen, her heart felt as if it were being squeezed hard by someone, making her even forget to breathe.

The youth whose marriage proposal she had publicly rejected, whom she had pitied and mocked, was currently stepping on the face of the "S-grade Genius" she had deemed far out of reach.

On the rostrum...

"Su Chen! You are looking for death!"

Patriarch Zhao Batian's eyes practically split open with rage as he violently crushed the teacup in his hand.

Just as he was about to erupt with his Protective Aura and charge down from the stands, Major General Lei Wuji sneered beside him. An even more terrifying pressure descended out of thin air, firmly pinning Patriarch Zhao Batian back into his chair.

"Lei Wuji! What do you think you're doing?!" Patriarch Zhao Batian roared.

"This is a stage where Life-and-Death Waivers were signed. Do you want to break the rules?" Major General Lei Wuji's gaze was sharp as a knife. "Do you think my Zhenyuan Army is a joke? Sit down and watch!"

On the stage...

...Su Chen paid absolutely no attention to the commotion in the stands.

He applied a bit of pressure with his foot.

The sole of his tactical boot ground into Zhao Kuang's face.

The cheek Zhao Kuang was so proud of was brutally pressed into the bloody water and metal debris on the ground, forcing a pained and humiliated groan from him.

Su Chen looked at him and delivered one final, devastating blow.

"Is this the class hierarchy you spoke of?"

These words were exactly the wild boast Zhao Kuang had made to Su Chen while standing on the rostrum during the exam mobilization.

He had claimed he would teach commoners what class hierarchy meant.

And now, it was returned to him completely intact.

In the stands, after a brief silence...

...no one knew who started it.

"Good!"

"Well said!"

From the phalanx of the logistics Cannon Fodder Class, a long-suppressed roar erupted first.

Immediately following that, the entire Ordinary Class phalanx, and even countless commoner spectators in the stands, all flushed red and began to roar frantically along with them.

The waves of sound swept through the entire venue like a tsunami.

In this battle, Su Chen had not just stepped on Zhao Kuang's face.

He had trampled on the high-and-mighty, all-monopolizing arrogance of those financial groups and noble families! He had ruthlessly torn to shreds the so-called ironclad rule that "talent determines everything"!

The military referee standing at the edge of the field swallowed hard.

Looking at Su Chen stepping on Zhao Kuang's head, his palms drenched in sweat, he picked up the microphone with a trembling voice.

"Third High School, Su Chen, wins!"

The entire crowd erupted!

On the giant screen, Su Chen's cold, black-clad figure was completely elevated to godhood amidst a wave of cheers and shock.