Chapter 27: Humiliation

When Little Hammer logged off, what he saw was Dragon Silver, resting his chin on his hand, lost in thought.

“Silver, why did you come down?” Little Hammer sounded a bit aggrieved. He’d waited upstairs for a long time, enduring ridicule and taunts from a few reckless humans. After giving them a good beating, he logged off in frustration, only to discover that the person he’d been waiting for had already gone offline. Judging by his expression, something was clearly wrong.

“Something came up. I was forced to log out and won’t be able to log in for a month. You go play on your own. I’m going to make cards. Wake me up on the morning of the first day of school.” As Dragon Silver spoke, he walked to the living room and began gathering herbs and tools.

Seeing Dragon Silver like this, Little Hammer knew better than to ask further. After a moment’s thought, he logged in again, curious whether those troublemakers had left.

Once Dragon Silver began making cards, he became completely absorbed, forgetting all his troubles. One six-star energy card after another came into existence at an ever-quickening pace. This relentless repetition made Dragon Silver a firm believer in the adage “practice makes perfect.” As he continued, he discovered that by altering just a single stroke, the entire structure of the six-star energy card could be simplified by a third—a revelation sure to shake the card-making world to its core. But Dragon Silver, intent on profiting quietly, happily continued producing energy cards. Share this discovery? He had no intention of making things easier for others.

He spent two full days immersed in card-making. Though he was physically exhausted, his spirits were soaring. With over four hundred six-star energy cards in his possession, Dragon Silver, perched on Little Hammer’s shoulder, forced his tired eyes open and made it to the classroom.

At the classroom door, Little Hammer’s massive figure and rugged, fierce aura drew a flurry of whispers. He was long accustomed to this. Carrying Dragon Silver, he went to the card scanner. Dragon Silver swiped his identity card, the holographic light swept over him to confirm his attendance, and then, without ceremony, he fell asleep. Opening ceremonies and meet-and-greets could go to hell. Little Hammer carried him away—if the card scan didn’t require the real person, he’d gladly do it for Dragon Silver.

Dragon Silver slept fitfully for three days, only waking when Little Hammer shook him for card scans and to eat a little.

Three days passed in such idleness.

It wasn’t until a full month after school began that Dragon Silver actually sat in class instead of leaving as soon as his attendance was registered. Today was exam day. Out of more than a thousand students, three would be chosen as mentors—outstanding students tasked with assisting teachers in their coursework. If this hadn’t been tied to joining the Dexin Organization, Dragon Silver wouldn’t have bothered with this exam.

Papers testing basic card knowledge posed no challenge for him. He took his pen and quickly filled the page; within ten minutes, he’d finished a test that left others racking their brains. When he reached the practical questions at the end, he hesitated—how to answer without revealing too much and yet not appear mediocre? In the end, he decided to score double the maximum.

Tossing down his pen, Dragon Silver stood up, weary and nonchalant, and walked out as if no one else existed. The proctor’s gaze remained icy. Dragon Silver impulsively decided to tease him—this teacher always arrived five minutes before class ended, his expression perpetually cold, never changing, not even when Dragon Silver walked past after scanning his card.

Dragon Silver doubled back. As expected, he heard the teacher’s frosty voice: “If you leave your seat, you must leave the classroom!”

He waved his pen, indicating that he’d forgotten it.

Dragon Silver returned again, claiming he’d forgotten a blank sheet of scrap paper.

When he tried to return yet again, the cold instructor finally frowned. “Silver, ten credits deducted.” Dragon Silver raised an eyebrow—he’d pushed it too far this time. Ten credits, just like that—gone. Oh well, at least he’d seen the teacher frown.

His antics annoyed not only the stern teacher but also his classmates, who began to protest.

“Quiet during the exam! Another outburst, and I’ll deduct ten credits!”

Dragon Silver often heard nothing else from this teacher but “ten credits deducted!” So, not knowing the instructor’s name, he simply called him “Ten Credits Teacher.” Waking up each morning just to see if “Ten Credits Teacher” wore the same expression was a pointless game, but aside from making cards, it was his only entertainment. In the forest, he could at least discuss barbecue techniques with his adorable card beasts. Now, every time he woke from the limits of exhaustion, all he faced were walls. The restriction on logging into the Federal Network had finally been lifted after a month, but he couldn’t shake an ominous feeling.

When Dragon Silver left the classroom, he found the sunlight harsh. Searching for Little Hammer, he spotted a tuft of suspicious black fur in a corner. His eyes narrowed, heart sinking. He picked it up—he recognized the feel at once. No one knew better than he how much Little Hammer cherished his fur; he’d never pull it out himself. There could be only one reason: Little Hammer had struggled free while being forcibly taken.

“Little Hammer…” Dragon Silver fought to suppress his anger, his mask darkening with the intensity of his emotions.

Clutching the black fur, he drew a deep breath. Then a brilliant, chilling smile broke across his lips—evoking the wrath of a goddess.

He laughed softly, a clear yet cold sound. Through the mask, his gaze became razor-sharp. Stroking the marks on the wall, he recognized the gouges—bear claws. Clearly, the assailant had overpowered Little Hammer.

Only the Crown Prince wielded such influence at the Academy. The Crown Prince, was it? He’d better hope his followers hadn’t harmed Little Hammer, or else… Dragon Silver pressed his lips together and strode forward, his steady, upright gait belying the fact that he was only seven years old.

When Dragon Silver kicked open the Student Union building’s doors, upperclassmen lounged in the foyer, arms crossed and smirking, whistling at the show to come. Dragon Silver glanced at them, then headed for the top floor. Along the way, upperclassmen watched with expressions ranging from mockery to contempt to schadenfreude, all because he’d dared to challenge the Crown Prince. Dragon Silver ignored them.

On opening the top floor door, he saw Little Hammer hanging in midair, half his fur shaved off, swaying silently—partly from the trauma, partly from the drugs he’d been given. Dragon Silver’s hands shook. This was the twenty-third floor—if Little Hammer were thrown from here, even he would be crippled. Rage and anguish reddened Dragon Silver’s eyes.

He stared at a brash youth brandishing a sharp knife at the line suspending Little Hammer. The knife had already sliced a third of the way through.

“Well, brave little freshman, you actually came?” The youth flicked the knife against the line, its edge biting deeper.

“I’m the one you want. Let him go.” Dragon Silver’s voice was calm, but a faint tremor betrayed his tension—a detail the youth quickly noticed.

The cocky youth had a shock of red hair, slanted brows, and long, lined eyes—troublemaker written all over him. His gaze was mocking, inflated now that he’d seen how much Dragon Silver cared for his pet.

“Want me to let him go?” He asked, feigning ignorance, savoring Dragon Silver’s anguish. As a level seven, he felt untouchable, especially holding the other’s weak spot.

“What do you want?” The angrier Dragon Silver became, the calmer he appeared. Little Hammer, half-lidded, looked at him with pleading eyes, which forced Dragon Silver to suppress his murderous urge.

“First, take off that irritating mask. Who do you think you are, mimicking the Crown Prince? Either take it off, or…” The youth pressed the knife to the line, the threat implicit.

“If I remove the mask, you’ll let him go?”

“Oh, that depends on my mood!” Clearly, the youth intended only to torment him, never to release Little Hammer. Dragon Silver understood—no need for words. He’d fight, make the boy yield, make him fear.

Slowly, Dragon Silver reached up and removed his mask. The youth was visibly stunned.

At that moment, a powerful psychic force slammed the door shut. Hidden cameras shattered, and a card floated in midair. The youth’s face twisted with fear at the sight, a terror creeping into his nerves.

“You’re not afraid for his life?” The youth frowned. Wasn’t Dragon Silver just a card maker?

Dragon Silver replaced his mask. “Let him go now and I’ll pretend none of this happened.”

“Why should I?” The youth eyed the floating card warily, but his arrogance refused to yield.

He had the air of someone who’d rather shatter than submit.

Dragon Silver grinned savagely. “You’re from a great family, aren’t you?”

“So what?” Helan Mountain didn’t understand what this doll-faced boy was plotting—one always forgot he was only seven.

“The moment Little Hammer falls, your family will be wiped out. And you’ll live every day in guilt and terror.”

Helan Mountain looked as if he’d heard the world’s greatest joke and burst out laughing—until he saw something in Dragon Silver’s eyes that made the laughter freeze.

“You can keep laughing, or you can pull him up right now.” Dragon Silver’s eyes were glacial, the card’s immense psychic pressure bearing down. With a thought, he could turn the youth into a drooling idiot—but unless forced, he’d never use such a drastic measure, since it would expose his identity. This special card, a recent inspiration, was his greatest creation to date: it broke the boundary that pure card makers couldn’t use combat cards. Controlled entirely by psychic power, even among overclocked cards, it was a milestone.

Faced with the threat of becoming an idiot in a second, Helan Mountain caved and pulled Little Hammer up.

“The antidote!” Since he’d brought the victim up, he handed the antidote over as well. Little Hammer, recovering his strength, bared his teeth in a vindictive grin, leapt onto the desk, and flexed his bear claws. Dragon Silver instantly understood, ramping the card’s psychic output to its peak. While the youth was distracted, Little Hammer executed his signature bear-style Mountain Crush.

With a single blow, the youth was foaming at the mouth. Little Hammer began doing sit-ups on his chest, the rhythmic grunts filling the room. He had no intention of killing—just making the boy remember the taste of bear-style flattening. Then Little Hammer grabbed the knife and began shaving the youth: head, eyebrows, armpits, legs—all left bloody and bare. Even Dragon Silver blinked at the sight. After retrieving his card, he saw Little Hammer tilt his head, pondering, then strip the boy’s pants. This was too much; Dragon Silver finally turned away. Little Hammer probably just wanted to shave that area too…

“You—you… Better dead than dishonored… ahhh!” The youth’s wails echoed through the Student Union.

…

“Silver, are you sure he’ll remember nothing?” Little Hammer stroked his bald chest, still indignant. He should have been left with the humiliation of being shaved bare! Hmph!

“It had to be done. If he remembered, we’d be exposed!”

“Fine.”

…

That day, all of Dexin was shaken. No matter who they were, everyone was stunned by this seven-year-old child. The Crown Prince and the school administration responded swiftly.