After arriving at the Combat Institute, Thora went straight to find an instructor and complete her registration. The process was simple. Once the paperwork was finished, she formally entered the institute and began her academy life. The military academy had four academic years. Under normal circumstances, students advanced one year annually, but promotion required passing evaluations. Those who failed were held back. As a result, the first-year cohort of the Combat Institute included not only freshmen but also upperclassmen who had repeated a year. The difference was immediately apparent from the color of their uniforms. What surprised Thora was that Mona was also assigned to the Combat Institute. On second thought, it made sense. Mona's academic performance had always been near the bottom, so being placed here was hardly unexpected. When Thora reached the training grounds, all the students were already engaged in their own drills. She quickly noticed that their training went far beyond close combat. It included ambush tactics in complex terrain, coordinated wolf pack maneuvers, and various wolf clan combat techniques passed down through different tribes. There were Western wolf clan bone blade techniques, Eastern wolf clan stealth arts, Astralis wolf clan beastform boxing, and even short blade combat powered by wolf soul energy. It was practically a comprehensive collection of real combat methods from across the Chaules. No wonder the academy had established the Combat Institute as a separate division. Most students who graduated from here went on to become special forces operatives or agents, and some even turned into elite assassins. Their practical combat ability was unquestionably top tier.Thora's arrival immediately drew everyone's attention. Their eyes first landed on her uniform, clearly marking her as a freshman. Once they confirmed her status, the contempt in their gazes was undisguised. Several of them exchanged looks, and it was obvious they had no good intentions toward the newcomer. This year, ten freshmen had been assigned to the first year of the Combat Institute. Aside from Thora, the others had all been driven into a corner of the training field. Many of them were bruised and battered, their faces swollen, their eyes filled with anger and resentment. Thora immediately understood what had happened. Freshmen being bullied by upperclassmen was nothing unusual in a military academy. These newcomers were not weak, but against veterans who had spent years fighting their way through the Combat Institute, they stood no chance. The upperclassmen had already mastered the fastest and most efficient ways to subdue opponents. Thora frowned slightly. She had no intention of interfering and prepared to head into the training grounds. Before she could get close, something flew through the air toward her. She reacted instantly and caught it in midair. It was a filthy rag. A man in a light blue uniform stood up, his tall frame casting a heavy shadow over Thora as he loomed toward her. "Freshman. What's your name?" His hoarse voice carried a clear threat. "Thora Green," she replied coolly. "Thora?" The man took the freshman roster from someone nearby. When he saw the name, the mockery in his eyes was impossible to hide. "Last place? Trash like you thinks you deserve to be in the Combat Institute?" Thora didn't respond. She showed no sign of anger, only watching him calmly, waiting to see what he intended to do. The other freshmen from her cohort bristled at the insult, but seeing that Thora had not reacted, they swallowed their anger as well. "Perfect timing. Let her learn the rules of the Combat Institute." The man sneered and shot a look behind him. Another upperclassman in a light blue uniform stepped forward and barked loudly, "The rules of our institute are simple. Any freshman who gets in through evaluation must clean all the training equipment every day. You're last place, so this task is yours. Until every piece of equipment is spotless, you're not allowed to train or attend any classes. Understood?" His tone reeked of bullying, yet it carried a twisted sense of benevolent warning. "If you don't want to do it ... you'll end up like them." He glanced toward the battered freshmen in the corner. "Oh, and one more thing. In the Combat Institute, fighting is legal and compliant. As long as no one dies, a few injuries are perfectly normal."In other words, as long as there were no deaths, people could be beaten to the brink, and the academy would not intervene. Legal fighting. The corner of Thora's lips curved almost imperceptibly. She liked that. "Did you hear me, rookie?" the upperclassman asked, suddenly raising his voice.