Ye Lan knew that the “Master” of the Kendo Club was only one person.
However, becoming the Master was extremely difficult.
To ascend to the Master’s position, one first needed to challenge the Kendo Club’s seven top swordsmen: the first to fifth seats, the vice-captain, and the captain.
These seven were not too difficult—they were still students, after all.
The hardest challenge to becoming Master was the final council of elders.
The so-called elders were the white-haired old men currently among the Kendo Club members.
Though advanced in years, on the brink of the grave, it was more accurate to say they were vigorous in old age.
Their eyes, their steps, their voices—none betrayed age.
Each of them had mastered the “Ling Tian Sword Technique,” a widely circulated universal sword technique in human civilization.
These true masters had devoted themselves to swordsmanship for centuries, paying little attention to worldly affairs.
Gaining their recognition was extremely difficult.
Since the founding of Zan Hun Military Academy, Ye Lan had never heard of anyone becoming the Master.
But when he saw these white-haired elders bowing respectfully to someone, Ye Lan understood—the Master had won the allegiance of the entire Kendo Club.
He even doubted whether he was still on his past life’s timeline.
In his past life, he had never heard of a Master being born in the Kendo Club.
At the same time, Ye Lan didn’t think it was due to his rebirth.
Whether in his past life or present, he certainly would not have had any connection to the Kendo Club, which specialized in abilities and swordsmanship.
The light footsteps grew closer, and Ye Lan’s heart became increasingly uneasy.
He now imitated the Kendo Club members, bowing in respect, because this was a figure he had never seen in both his past and present life.
Moreover, all the Kendo Club members were watching him; failing to show respect could be fatal.
The footsteps stopped in front of Ye Lan.
A gentle breeze, faintly scented with flowers, brushed across his face.
At the same time, a sheathed long sword with strange engravings entered his vision.
The “Master’s Blade,” the Kendo Club’s treasured artifact.
It was said that very few in the Human Alliance could wield it, and only the true Master could unleash its full power.
The Master stood before Ye Lan, seemingly examining him.
Though Ye Lan didn’t dare to look at the Master’s face, he could see silver-white hair flowing down to the ankles.
The flowing hair contrasted beautifully with the deep blue kendo hakama, like a galaxy in the night sky.
Ye Lan could hardly imagine how beautiful this person must be.
“All right, everyone—”
The Master’s voice, both gentle and authoritative, rang out, tinged with a hint of dissatisfaction:
“Don’t be so stiff, or I will have to return your greetings.”
“Impossible! Master, that would be too much!”
A white-haired elder exclaimed, quickly signaling others:
“Relax, everyone. Take it easy.”
The Kendo Club members exchanged glances, unsure how to react.
“It’s a rare Kendo Club gathering—everyone should enjoy themselves—”
The Master’s voice carried amusement, spreading relaxation and even laughter among everyone present.
Perhaps no one wanted to oppose a voice imbued with such divinity.
Ye Lan sensed the atmosphere shift from tense and formal to light and cheerful, soon filled with laughter and chatter.
Was the Master using charm magic?
“Lift your head.”
The exquisite voice was near, and with a slight lift, Ye Lan would see the Master’s divine visage.
“Full of fear and awe.”
But Ye Lan resisted, clenching his teeth and refusing to look up.
A slender hand gently lifted his chin, compelling him to raise his head.
When he did, he saw the Master wearing a fox mask.
The mask was white, outlined with blue patterns, fox-like lips curved in a subtle smile.
Ye Lan felt a bit disappointed—the mask hid the Master’s true face—but mostly surprised.
For atop the Master’s head were two fluffy white fox ears.
Sensing his gaze, the ears twitched—these were not decorations, but real.
Ye Lan knew that at high levels, some espers’ abilities could cause physical changes in the body, enhancing all attributes.
But the Master before him seemed naturally this way, as if this form was inherent.
This was strange.
In both his past and present life, Ye Lan had never seen such an ability.
The Master seemed pleased with Ye Lan’s resistance:
“You have strong willpower. My words have not swayed you at all. What is your name?”
Ye Lan answered truthfully:
“Ye Lan.”
Yet he was shocked—the Master admitted her words had enchanting power, and yet he was unaffected.
Why was he immune? Perhaps the price of having no psychic gene at all.
“The Master, this person started the trouble.”
A senior student brought John Edmond before the Master and Ye Lan.
“I… I…”
John Edmond trembled, stammered, pale, kneeling, too frightened to look up.
He tried to see if anyone would back him, but his backup had already fled.
Ye Lan knew: John Edmond was terrified by the aura of killing intent.
The terrifying aspect of the Kendo Club was that nearly every member had seen blood—they were no sheltered flowers.
Hence, even though the club had faded from public attention, no force dared provoke it.
Whether it was the Kendo Club’s strength or its unimaginable connections, it made them untouchable.
Ye Lan looked at John Edmond, unable to breathe, and contemplated.
Military schools did not forbid students from seeing blood, but rarely this early.
For freshmen, encountering such lethal intent early was not ideal.
Moreover, this was less about E and D Classes’ conflict and more a historical issue born from the school system: higher-level classes were “supposed” to oppress lower-level classes.
To overturn this norm, top-down reforms were ineffective—it required E Class to truly defeat the higher-level class, a bottom-up approach.
Ye Lan bowed to the Master:
“Master. This is between E Class and D Class. We request to resolve it ourselves.”
E and D Classes, the lowest two in the year, should not be mortal enemies.
But given the circumstances, a battle was inevitable.
Better to resolve it early than let natural disparities widen the gap.
“So, how do you plan to resolve it, Ye Lan?”
The fox-masked Master’s expression remained hidden, but Ye Lan could sense interest in her gaze.
Ye Lan replied seriously:
“FSVM—the Year-Level Battle.”
The senior who brought John Edmond glanced at Ye Lan, surprised by the mention of FSVM.
The Master nodded:
“We, the Kendo Club, can witness the duel. But…”
She pointed to John Edmond:
“Though he is incompetent, he is still a class leader. Ye Lan, you cannot represent your class alone.”
Ye Lan was momentarily speechless.
This was the risk of being a rogue fish.
Without any position in his class, he could not challenge other class leaders.
But he realized this was fine.
The conflict between E and D Classes was personal between D Class and him—he would not drag the entire E Class down over it.