There were countless types of martial arts techniques in existence. Some specialized in sheer offense — fierce strikes, devastating kicks, and killing blows. Others focused entirely on defense — parrying, blocking, or evading an opponent's attack with perfect timing.

But beyond these basic forms were the advanced techniques — those that defied common logic. Some allowed a cultivator to gather every ounce of strength into a single point, unleashing a strike capable of shattering mountains. Others hardened a part of the body to withstand otherwise fatal blows. And yet… these were not the rarest of all.

There were legendary techniques — the kind most cultivators would spend a lifetime chasing — like the Bloodmoon Rampage Technique.

Those who managed to comprehend this art could amplify their strength severalfold during the night. How much that power increased depended entirely on one's depth of comprehension.

It was a technique whispered about with reverence — powerful, dangerous, and nearly impossible to master. Throughout history, only a handful of cultivators had ever achieved true mastery.

Derek knew about it as well. In his previous life, after recognizing his potential, Vanessa had personally sought out a master who knew this art and asked him to teach Derek.

But even after countless days of grueling effort and hundreds of failed attempts, Derek had never managed to grasp it.

The number of people capable of using this technique could literally be counted on one hand.

That was why both Derek and the instructor were completely stunned — the quiet boy sitting at the back hadn't just learned any martial art… He had learned one of the most excellent martial techniques ever created.

"You… you've mastered the Bloodmoon Rampage Technique?" the instructor stammered, his voice trembling in disbelief.

"Yes," the boy replied casually as if what he'd just said wasn't anything serious.

"Well… I don't know what to say," the instructor admitted with a small, astonished smile after staying quiet for a while. "I wish I could see it right now, but unfortunately, that technique can only be used during the night. What's your name, son?"

"It's Harold, sir," the boy replied calmly.

"Alright, Harold." The instructor nodded thoughtfully. "Our class ends by midday, and the night hours are completely yours. But, if you don't mind, then meet me in the fighting arena at the academic building tonight. I'd really appreciate witnessing that technique firsthand. Of course, it's your choice. You can refuse if you'd prefer."

"I'll be there," Harold answered, his tone steady as earlier.

"Excellent." The instructor smiled faintly, then turned to address the rest of the students.

"There are only five of you in this class," he began. "That has both advantages and disadvantages. With fewer students, competition will be lacking, but the upside is that I'll be able to focus on each of you individually and guide your progress closely."

He paused, scanning their faces one by one. "I know your morale might be low because you were placed in the Normal Class, but don't let that discourage you. I can't remember any cultivator in history being in the Elite Class." The instructor's tone grew firm yet encouraging. "But if you work hard and follow my guidance, you can surely leave this academy as full-fledged hunters in four years. And if talent and perseverance are on your side, you might even rise to become S-Class Hunters someday. So give your best — and don't waste this chance."

He clapped his hands once. "Since today's our first day, I need to evaluate your capabilities so I can tailor your training accordingly. Everyone, move to the open area at the back. We'll begin with a light spar."

The classroom was vast — designed not only for lectures but also for practical sessions. The five students followed his instruction and spread out across the spacious floor.

The instructor stepped forward to the center, his stance relaxed yet commanding. "Alright then," he said, scanning the group. "Who wants to go first?"

None of the three — Billy, Paul, or Mia — dared to volunteer. They looked at one another nervously, hesitant to be the first.

Only Harold and Derek remained composed, their expressions unreadable.

But Derek didn't raise his hand either. 'Let's see what they can do first,' he thought. 'Based on that, I'll decide how much to show. I need to impress the instructor just enough to get permission, so I can bunk classes and train on my own without revealing too much.'

But before Derek could put his plan into motion, the instructor suddenly called out,

"Derek, why don't you come first? Show them there's nothing to be afraid of."

The instructor's intention was simple — to use Derek's performance to boost the others' morale, utterly unaware of what Derek was actually planning and what would happen if Derek actually went all out. Will it really boost their morale?

"Umm…" Derek opened his mouth, but no excuse came out. After a brief pause, he sighed. "Okay, sir."

He stepped forward reluctantly, knowing he had no real reason to refuse. 'What should I do? Should I go all out so I can get permission to train alone?' he wondered. 'No… that might cause unnecessary trouble later. I'll wait a few days before convincing him.'

With that thought, Derek walked up and took his position in front of the instructor, and then bowed respectfully. It was a familiar gesture before starting a friendly spar.

"You can attack whenever you're ready," the instructor said calmly, placing one hand behind his back.

Derek leaned forward and dashed ahead — his movements quick, precise, and sharp, though still far from his full speed.

As soon as he reached striking distance, he threw a clean, straight punch.

The instructor caught it effortlessly with his palm — yet his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing across them.

'He's good,' the instructor thought.

Even though Derek hadn't even used half of his strength, his technique and power far exceeded that of almost all students — at least among cultivators, if not compared to Aurans or mages.

'Let's see how much he can handle,' the instructor mused, thrusting his knee forward in a quick counter, still keeping one hand behind his back.

Derek instantly reacted. He slammed his palm against the incoming knee, redirecting the force before leaping back to create distance.

'I shouldn't go all out,' he thought. 'But I can't look too weak either.'

He bent low, spinning his leg in a swift crescent sweep.

The instructor jumped gracefully, flipping mid-air, and brought his leg down in a downward kick.

Derek rolled backward in a clean somersault, evading the strike with ease.

"Hahahaha!" The instructor burst into laughter, clearly impressed. "You're good, kid... really good! So the rumors were true after all. I think I understand what you're capable of now… and what I need to do to push that potential of yours to the limit. You can step back."

Derek bowed respectfully. "Yes, sir."

As he walked back to his spot, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. 'Well, that didn't take much. Good.'

"Damn! He isn't just strong, he's skilled too. Did you see those moves?!" Paul whispered, his eyes wide as he leaned toward Mia.

Although they had seen Derek shatter the boulder during the second phase, none of them had witnessed his battle against Cecilia and the others in the final phase.

Mia didn't reply. Her mouth hung open in pure astonishment, unable to tear her gaze away from Derek.

Harold watched silently while Billy shared the same stunned expression as the other two.

"Alright," the instructor said, clapping his hands lightly to get their attention. "Who's next? You've all seen how he fought, right? Don't worry. I am aware of the limitations of first-year students. You won't get hurt. But this is important for your future growth, so straighten your backs and step forward, one by one."

"I… I'll go next!" Billy said, mustering his courage and stepping out of line.

The instructor smiled approvingly. "Good! That's the spirit of a future hunter. Now, give it everything you've got. Attack me with your best shot!"

Billy nodded and rushed forward, throwing a flurry of punches. His strikes lacked power and precision, but they carried determination and a will to succeed. Watching Derek had lit a spark in him — he wanted to be like that, strong and confident.

It didn't even take a full minute before Billy was flat on the ground, panting heavily. But now he wasn't looking nervous anymore.

Next came Paul, then Mia. Like Billy, both of them gave their all. Though each was defeated quickly, the instructor's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. 'Good. Just what I wanted to see.'

Finally, only Harold remained.

"You're up next, Harold," the instructor said with interest. "Let's see what else you can do besides that Bloodmoon Rampage Technique."

Harold walked forward, his face calm, his movements steady. He stopped before the instructor and took his stance.

"You may begin whenever you're ready," the instructor said, clasping his hands behind his back.

Harold nodded slightly, then shifted into a fighting posture. His eyes gleamed faintly as he rushed forward...

But just then...

Thud!

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