After this grueling process which took 1 month of time. Mo Fan was finally back to before the totem snake incident and during this time was build up to not only the national pavilion challenge but also in 2 days was the Chiefs annual duel for student council president.
When Mo Fan stepped into the arena, the atmosphere shifted almost immediately. The other institute Heads had already gathered, more than a dozen top-tier Intermediate Mages standing across from him, each carrying strong auras and obvious confidence in their abilities.
When Dongfang Lie and the others saw him arrive, their expressions tightened slightly. It wasn't fear, but it was no longer casual either. After Hangzhou, no one could look at Mo Fan the same way.
Mo Fan walked forward lazily, hands in his pockets, scanning the group like he was picking items off a menu. His gaze lingered on a few familiar faces, then moved on without interest.
He clicked his tongue.
"So this is it? All the big shots?"
He stretched his neck slightly, rolling his shoulders like he'd just woken up.
"Come at me all at once. Don't waste my time."
The arena exploded into noise.
Students all around the Main Campus stood up in shock. They had heard of Mo Fan's name rising rapidly, but no one expected him to walk in and challenge over a dozen top representatives simultaneously.
Mu Nujiao froze slightly.
Ai Tutu's eyes lit up.
Dongfang Ming's face darkened instantly.
Below, Dongfang Lie's expression sank.
"Arrogant."
The dozen institute Heads sneered coldly. Each of them had fought their way to this position. None of them were willing to accept being looked down upon like this.
Mo Fan didn't even bother looking at them properly anymore.
He cracked his fingers.
"Begin."
The referee had barely finished speaking.
Mo Fan moved.
A Star Map appeared instantly beneath his feet.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
Perfect.
Summoning energy surged outward in a sudden, overwhelming wave, and a cold, ancient aura flooded the entire arena as if something primordial had awakened. A chilling howl cut through the air, sharp and absolute, instantly silencing the chaos. Wolfie, the Star Snow Frost Wolf, stepped forward like a king descending into his rightful domain, his presence alone bending the atmosphere around him. Frost spread beneath his paws in expanding layers, creeping across the ground as the temperature dropped violently, forcing breath into visible mist. His icy blue eyes swept across the arena with quiet authority, and in that single glance, every opponent felt it—a suffocating pressure, pure bloodline suppression that pressed down on their very souls. Shock rippled through the crowd as someone muttered in disbelief, asking what kind of wolf that even was. Yet Wolfie did not move again. He simply stood beside Mo Fan, silent and dominant, as if everything unfolding was beneath him. Mo Fan smirked slightly, clearly satisfied, and casually told them not to die too fast. That snapped the others out of it.
The opponents immediately retaliated, shouting as multiple Star Patterns ignited at once, unleashing fire, wind, water, and light in a chaotic barrage that caused the arena to erupt with energy. Yet Mo Fan did not dodge. Instead, he simply raised his hand. Lightning flickered—but it wasn't his. High above, the Lightning Institute Head had already completed his spell, and a massive lightning strike descended straight toward Mo Fan with overwhelming force. The impact exploded with a deafening boom, lighting up the entire arena and forcing gasps from the crowd. But at the center of it all, Mo Fan hadn't moved an inch. The lightning didn't explode upon him. It stopped. No—it was being held. Suspended. Controlled. A small figure hovered beside him, her form radiant and alive, wrapped entirely in pure lightning as arcs of electricity danced around her like a living storm. Lightning Belle. Her eyes opened slowly, cold and proud, and the lightning that had been meant to destroy Mo Fan was now being absorbed into her body as if it belonged to her from the start. The Lightning Institute Head's expression instantly shattered, disbelief written across his face as he realized what was happening.
The lightning didn't disperse. It condensed, flowing and bending unnaturally before Lightning Belle lifted her hand. In the next instant, the entire bolt reversed direction. With a violent crack, the redirected lightning tore through the air and slammed straight back into its original caster. The explosion was even more violent this time, and the Lightning Institute Head didn't even have the chance to react before he was blasted out of the arena, his body collapsing unconscious on impact. Silence followed. A complete, stunned silence. Mo Fan let out a small breath and casually thanked Lightning Belle, who now hovered quietly at his side, her aura stabilized and far stronger than before. This was her first true appearance, and already, she had completely dominated the battlefield.
The remaining opponents hesitated, if only for a second—but that was all Mo Fan needed. He moved instantly. Fire ignited in his hand, but unlike before, it wasn't wild or chaotic. It was controlled, refined, and heavy with pressure. "Fire Burst, Level 5." A single flame formed in his palm, small and calm, before he flicked it forward. The explosion that followed was devastating, slamming directly into the Light Institute Head and shattering his Light Barrier instantly, sending him flying backward with no resistance. Before the man even hit the ground, Mo Fan had already shifted his focus. From the side, water surged forward as the Water Institute Head attempted to counter with a defensive wave, but Mo Fan didn't slow down. Another flame appeared. Another flick. The explosion tore through the water like it wasn't even there, evaporating it instantly as the shockwave struck directly, dropping the Water Institute Head where he stood.
Three down.
Mo Fan remained where he was, calm and completely unbothered, as if nothing significant had just happened. Beside him, Wolfie stepped forward slightly, and the frost began to spread once more, the cold deepening as the remaining opponents felt the full weight of the situation. This wasn't a fight anymore. They weren't facing someone on their level. They were being overwhelmed. Mo Fan glanced around again, this time with clear disappointment in his eyes, and asked if that was really all they had. No one responded. The arena had already fallen into complete silence. At the center of it all, Mo Fan stood there with Wolfie at his side, Lightning Belle hovering beside him, and fire still flickering in his hand—completely in control. He looked forward one last time, relaxed, almost bored.
"Next?"
Mo Fan effortlessly swept through all the institute Chiefs, claiming the top spot in Pearl Institute. The Lightning Hall Chief lay unconscious on the ground, his body still faintly crackling with residual electricity, a humiliating reminder of how completely he had been overpowered. Mo Fan didn't even spare him a second glance. To him, the outcome had been obvious from the start.
As for whatever titles or responsibilities came with taking the top position, Mo Fan couldn't care less. Things like student rankings, council duties, or recognition held little meaning to him. Compared to that, returning to cultivation and strengthening his elements mattered far more. Without another word, he simply turned and left the arena, as if everything that had just happened was nothing more than a warm-up.
In the spectator stands, the referees, teachers, and Director Wei of the Fire Institute were all stunned. Even a High-tier Mage—or someone at that level of combat strength—had been crushed so decisively?
Director Wei, a Peak High-tier Mage with vast experience, narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed the aftermath. "That lightning… it wasn't normal control. It was absorption, redirection… and something beyond that. And that wolf… and the fire control…" He muttered quietly to himself, clearly piecing together what he had just witnessed.
A referee beside him shook his head in disbelief. "What a pity for the Lightning Hall Chief. With his talent and resources, he should have dominated this selection easily. Yet he ran into Mo Fan…" He sighed. "If Mo Fan exists, why must anyone else even compete?"
"Hahaha!" Director Wei burst into laughter. Despite his own institute's representative being defeated, he wasn't disappointed in the slightest. On the contrary, there was excitement in his eyes. "Isn't this exactly what we've been waiting for? A generation like this only appears once in a long time."
"You mean… the Venice National Institute Battle?" the referee asked, eyes widening.
Director Wei didn't answer immediately.
Another referee frowned and shook his head. "It won't be that simple. The national selection process is full of interference from different factions. Politics, interests, internal conflicts… those problems run deep. And with how the country has performed internationally in recent years, it's hard to say whether raw talent alone will be enough."
"But still… isn't this a good sign?" someone else added.
Elsewhere, a few of Mo Fan's rivals scoffed bitterly, trying to mask their shock. "So what if the Lightning Hall Chief lost? He probably got careless," one muttered. "It's not like Mo Fan is unbeatable."
But their voices lacked confidence.
Not far away, Zhao Manting crossed his arms and sneered openly. "Careless? You guys are blind if you think that. That wasn't carelessness—that was domination. And don't forget… Mo Fan didn't even use everything he has."
His gaze lingered on the arena where the faint traces of lightning and fire still lingered.
"And that's the scary part."
With that, all the lingering doubts and noise around Pearl Institute fell silent, at least on the surface.
What no one expected, however, was that after Mo Fan swept through Pearl Institute, the news didn't stay contained within the campus. It spread rapidly beyond it, igniting widespread discussion across the entire magical society.
After all, High-tier was a threshold even seasoned societal Mages treated with utmost seriousness. Outside the academy, reaching that level meant stepping into the ranks of true masters, individuals who could not be easily underestimated. Naturally, public attention began shifting toward the upcoming National Institute Battle.
"Damn, Pearl have two High-tier level combatants now! This has never happened before. In past years, National Team members usually only broke into High-tier after months of brutal field training."
"This year's team might actually be the strongest we've seen in a long time."
But for every voice of praise, there were just as many critics.
Those who had long been disappointed with the National Institute Battle seized the opportunity to mock openly:
"Every year it's 'most promising ever,' and every year they get knocked out before even reaching the top stages."
"Someone who didn't know better might think it's some small, irrelevant country—oh wait, it's the so-called mighty Nine Provinces."
"The noble clans control the National Team quotas. Even the most useless heirs can secure a spot. No discipline, no perseverance, no real fighting spirit. Meanwhile, truly talented commoner Mages don't even get a chance."
"Haha, what a joke. Even if a genius like Einstein showed up here, he'd first have to learn how to navigate their social hierarchy before doing anything meaningful."
"They change National Institute mentors year after year, but nothing ever really improves. Same system, same results. People should be realistic—fix your foundations before dreaming about international glory."
Unfortunately, those voices made up the majority.
Even those who wanted to support Mo Fan and the emerging generation found it difficult to speak up, as years of disappointing international results had eroded the public's confidence.
Still—
this time,
something felt different.
Not even Mo Fan's overwhelming display of strength could completely overturn the deeply rooted public sentiment.
At the apartments, Mo Fan scrolled through the flood of reports, seeing official media outlets and countless self media platforms scrambling to highlight his performance, exaggerating every detail to build hype. It made him pause slightly, his expression unreadable.
No wonder the attention was skyrocketing. It was obvious the authorities were deliberately pushing the narrative forward, trying to build momentum ahead of the National Institute Battle.
He skimmed through the endless stream of comments, letting out a faint chuckle.
But even he had to admit, the past two National Institute Battles had been disappointing. Years ago, when key figures fell early due to unforeseen incidents, the entire structure collapsed. What followed was predictable.
Round of 32.
And out.
The following years weren't any better. Even when promising talents emerged, they were either shut down early or faced overwhelming international opponents.
Again—
Round of 32.
And out.
The past decade had technically been a golden age for domestic magical talent, yet results never reflected it. Whether it was internal conflict, structural flaws, or external pressure, the outcome remained the same.
Failure.
"National Institute Champion… reward: Spiritual Praise of Parthenon…" Mo Fan muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he understood exactly what that meant. A direct amplification of elemental power, one to three times, something far beyond ordinary innate talent. Anyone who could stabilize even a two times boost would essentially step into a completely different realm of power, but that kind of strength wasn't meant for ordinary people. Most would barely hold onto one point three, maybe one point five at best. Anything more, and their foundations would collapse.
Mo Fan exhaled slowly, his thoughts settling with quiet certainty. Then I'll just take it. Simple. Direct. No hesitation. But even he knew winning this time wouldn't be easy. This year, monsters weren't just limited to one or two. There were individuals with commander level summons, high tier elements at advanced mastery, rare elements that broke conventional rules, and those who had already stepped into domains far beyond standard mages. Mo Fan's eyes sharpened slightly as a faint heat lingered around him. It doesn't matter.
He didn't care who stood in front of him. Whether it was summoning, wind, chaos, or something even stranger, he would burn through all of it. Still, he understood one thing clearly. He needed to get stronger. Not just fire, not just lightning, but everything. His summoning, his lightning, his control, his endurance. Everything had to rise together, because the stage ahead was not forgiving.
A few days later, Mo Fan had mostly recovered from his injuries, but the damage from the Demon Element was still there, lingering and heavy. Even standing still, he could feel it, a constant reminder of what it cost. He leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose as the memory surfaced. Breaking into High tier should have been his moment, his rise, yet instead he had been dragged down hard in front of everyone. Not only did he fail to show dominance, he had been forced into a position where he couldn't even move properly. That kind of humiliation was something he hadn't felt in a long time.
He clicked his tongue lightly, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Annoying. His fingers curled slowly into a fist, not out of blind anger, but out of something far more controlled. Resolve. Because this time, he wasn't the same. The fire inside him burned differently now. He wasn't chasing strength anymore. He was enforcing it. No hesitation. No holding back. No room for failure. He stood up slowly, his body still heavy, his aura still unstable, but his eyes steady, sharp, and focused. "Next time…" His voice was low, calm, and certain. "…I won't lose." And this time, it wasn't a promise. It was a fact.