Reborn Financier-Chapter 47: The Final Round

The sun had dipped slightly, casting a golden hue over the dueling stage. The last battle of the day was about to begin.

The crowd had been waiting for this one.

Match 5 of 5.

For many students, the fifth match was a formality—just another stepping stone toward their assigned class. But for a few... it was everything.

Two names were called, and the air tensed.

"Kaidën Valtorin... versus... Meng Ji of the Flowing Moon Sect."

The audience roared with excitement, laughter, and pity.

"It’s over for that blind kid. He got lucky so far." "No way he’s pulling another win out of this." "Meng Ji’s already four-for-four. If she wins this, she’s straight into A-Class!"

Meng Ji stepped onto the stage, her blade already humming with refined energy. She wore a determined look. The earlier battles had already taken a toll on her mana reserves, but she couldn’t afford to falter—not now. Not with the honor of her family, her sect, and her grandfather’s name resting on her back.

"I must win."

Kaidën arrived a moment later, calm and quiet, his blindfold secured as always. His daggers—simple iron ones—hung from his belt, not yet drawn. There was no aura, no pressure, no dramatic entrance. Just silence.

But Meng Ji could feel it.

A whisper in the air.

The pressure of someone dangerous hiding behind a wall.

Kaidën, on the other hand, had different thoughts.

"So... she’s the opponent, huh? Guess my luck ran out. Whatever. I’ll aim for the draw."

He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. This was the last match. Just one draw, and he’d fall comfortably into C-Class. No attention. No expectations. Peace.

"Let’s not make it obvious."

The elder judge raised his hand. "Begin!"

BOOM!

Meng Ji moved first, her sword a blur.

Her first strike was the Fluttering Petal Style—a flurry of quick, flickering cuts designed to probe weaknesses. Kaidën weaved through the air like smoke, his daggers glinting in the sun as he parried and deflected, barely engaging.

It looked like he was on the defensive.

Exactly as planned.

Meng Ji kept pushing. She advanced with a mid-speed, high-skill assault pattern—feints, twists, sudden angle changes. Kaidën blocked a few, dodged many, and allowed shallow grazes to paint red lines on his sleeves.

"I’ll let her push me back... just enough."

But the more the match progressed, the more Meng Ji began to realize something wasn’t right.

His footing never slipped. His guard never dropped. He let her hit him—but never where it mattered.

Still, she pushed harder. Her mana surged.

Kaidën saw it: the flicker of inner fire. Her bloodline technique was starting to rise.

She moved faster now, mixing swordplay with mana bursts. The edges of her blade gleamed with crescent-shaped energy, trailing behind like flowing silk. Kaidën finally responded—not with full power, but a step up.

He spun, ducked, and slashed.

For the first time, Meng Ji was pushed back, her arm jolting from the force of a dagger block. A small chip appeared on her sword’s edge.

The crowd gasped.

"Did he just force her back?" "No way!" "Maybe he’s not as weak as we thought..."

Kaidën clenched his jaw.

"Tch. That was too much. Gotta tone it down again."

But Meng Ji wasn’t giving him the chance.

This time, she drew in a deep breath. Her aura grew sharper—more disciplined.

Her grandfather’s technique... one she had been forbidden to use recklessly.

She stepped forward into a stance.

Wide footing. High guard. Sword tilted slightly to the left.

The air grew cold.

"She’s doing it again..." Kaidën recognized the posture.

The crowd leaned forward.

"That’s... the Crescent Fang Sword." "Didn’t she use a weaker version of this on Roan Blaze?"

Meng Ji’s hair fluttered. Her aura burst outward. But this time, unlike the previous match, she pushed deeper. Past her comfort zone.

She’d practiced it. Over and over.

But she had never fully released it.

"Just a little more... just enough power to win."

She whispered something beneath her breath.

"Moonfall Severance."

Then she charged.

Kaidën narrowed his eyes. He felt it coming—an arc of mana slicing space itself.

He moved.

The crowd couldn’t follow. The sound of blade against dagger split the air like thunder. Each exchange sent shockwaves across the stage. Meng Ji’s sword strikes were fueled by refined swordsmanship and deep mana reservoirs. Kaidën’s movements were raw, minimal—but absurdly efficient.

She struck at his chest.

He parried and deflected.

She leapt and spun, slicing from above.

He ducked, rolled, and kicked her back.

Both of them were breathing harder now. Cuts opened on both arms. Kaidën’s blindfold was stained with sweat and blood.

"If I keep playing defense, she’ll corner me."

So he shifted.

He attacked.

Just briefly.

A flicker of his true self emerged—his dagger moved at a blinding angle and knocked Meng Ji’s sword sideways. She stumbled.

But again, Kaidën pulled back. He didn’t press.

"He could’ve ended it just now," one judge whispered.

"Why didn’t he?" another muttered.

Meng Ji took the moment to recover. And with it, her resolve hardened.

She shouted, and her mana exploded.

The ground cracked. Wind howled. Her eyes glowed with silver light.

"This ends now!"

She stepped into her grandfather’s final stance, the one only he had mastered fully.

But this time... her control slipped.

"No—wait, she’s overcharging it!" a judge shouted.

Meng Ji unleashed her full power—a slicing arc of silver light that tore across the stage like a divine guillotine. The stone beneath her cracked and shattered as the energy wave erupted with uncontrollable force.

BOOOOM!!

The entire stage was swallowed by dust, debris, and shockwaves.

Students screamed. Professors stood up.

"Stop the match!" "She lost control!" "Can someone see what happened?!"

Dust filled the air like a curtain of smoke. No one could see.

Then—

Silence.

Two bodies collapsed amidst the rubble.

One—Meng Ji—her robe scorched, eyes barely open.

The other—Kaidën—bleeding from his head, his chest bruised and torn, one arm limp. His daggers scattered away from him.

Healers rushed to the scene.

The dust cleared.

A moment of horror and awe passed over the audience.

The judge stepped forward and raised a trembling hand.

"The match is... a draw. Both participants have been incapacitated."

The crowd was stunned.

Then—

Thunderous applause.

The most intense duel of the tournament. A clash of intent, of power, of restraint and desperation.

Kaidën had held back. Meng Ji had lost control. And together, they had created a battle that no one would forget.

Both students were carried on stretchers toward the academy’s medical wing.

Some stared at Kaidën in awe. Others looked at Meng Ji with fear and respect.

But everyone now knew one thing—

Neither of them belonged in C-Class.

To be continued...