Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 771 Chapter 178.1 - Previous undercurrents

Chapter 771  Chapter 178.1 - Previous undercurrents

The cool breeze of the second semester swept through the academy grounds as Emma walked briskly amidst the bustling crowd of students. Her expression was tight, her polished demeanor masking the storm brewing within her. 
'That bitch,' Emma fumed inwardly, her fists clenched by her sides. Her sharp gaze darted through the sea of faces as if searching for someone. I said to not show your face in this academy, and she still dares! 
The thought of Taylor stubbornly clinging to her place in the academy despite Emma's efforts made her blood boil. Emma had gone to great lengths to ensure the girl was forced to drop out. She had pulled strings, whispered rumors, and applied every ounce of pressure she could muster. Yet, Taylor had refused to yield. 
'It's infuriating!' Emma thought, her pace quickening as she recalled the confrontation. She remembered the way Taylor had looked at her, not with defiance but with quiet resolve—a resolve that Emma had underestimated. 
The memory brought back the words of that Philips bastard. His cold, calculating tone echoed in her mind. 
"You're too soft," he had said, his voice dripping with disdain. "If you want to eliminate someone, you don't leave room for them to recover. You didn't deal with her thoroughly enough." 
At the time, Emma had bristled at his words. She wasn't accustomed to being chastised, let alone by someone whose identity she couldn't even confirm. Yet, his criticism had stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her pride. 
Now, as she walked through the academy, she couldn't help but feel the weight of his judgment. Had she been too soft? Too reluctant to cross certain lines? The sight of Taylor—no doubt still lurking somewhere on these grounds—felt like a thorn lodged deep in her side. 
Her thoughts were interrupted as a pair of students brushed past her, their conversation carrying snippets of gossip. 
As Emma walked through the bustling academy grounds, snippets of conversation floated around her, painting a vibrant picture of the academy's changes. 
"Did you hear about the new mentorship program? They're pairing us with real hunters now!" 
"Yeah, they said it's to prepare us better for fieldwork. Some of the mentors are even from the top 500 rankings!" 
"I heard they're planning to expand the hunter program to include specialized training for dealing with monsters from the rift zones. The academy's really stepping up!" 
But Emma barely registered the voices around her. Their excitement, the academy's ambitions—none of it mattered. Not right now. Her thoughts were singularly focused on one person. 
RING! 
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her out of her thoughts. Pulling it out, she saw a message on the screen: 
[We found her.] 
Her heart raced, not from anxiety, but from a simmering anticipation. She opened the attached details and saw the location marked on a map app. A few taps later, she had the route memorized. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. 
"Finally," she murmured under her breath, her pace quickening as she weaved through the crowd, ignoring everything else around her. 
******* 
Taylor clutched her bag tighter, her mind clouded with confusion and fear as Emma stood before her, seething with barely-contained rage. The quiet corridor, usually a haven of solitude, had become a stage for an unthinkable confrontation. 
Before Taylor could process what was happening, Emma's hand shot out, striking her across the face. The slap echoed sharply in the corridor, leaving Taylor stunned and momentarily speechless. Her cheek burned, but the pain was quickly overshadowed by the shock of the attack. 
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" Emma spat, her voice dripping with venom. Her perfectly polished demeanor had cracked, revealing a simmering fury beneath the surface. 
Taylor staggered back, her hand flying to her stinging cheek. "Find out…? What are you talking about?" she stammered, her voice shaking as her mind scrambled to make sense of the situation. 
"Don't play dumb with me!" Emma snapped, her eyes blazing. She reached into her bag and pulled out a sleek smartphone, holding it up like damning evidence. "Is this the phone you've been sending those filthy messages from? Heh, you thought you could cover your tracks?" 
Taylor's heart sank as she stared at the phone. It was identical to the one she had seen earlier that week—one she didn't own but had inexplicably found planted in her bag. Her voice faltered as she tried to defend herself. "I… I've never seen that phone before. I don't know how it—" 
"Enough!" Emma interrupted, her voice cutting through Taylor's protests like a blade. "Do you think I'd believe you? After everything? You've been sending threats, blackmailing me, and now you're going to pretend you're innocent?" 
"I didn't send anything!" Taylor pleaded, her voice rising with desperation. She looked around at the crowd, hoping for even a shred of support. "I don't even know where that phone came from. Please, you have to believe me." 
But the onlookers' faces were blank, their silence louder than any accusation. Emma sneered, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Oh, you'll pay for what you've done," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You thought you could mess with me and get away with it? I'll make sure everyone knows who you are." 
The weight of her words hung in the air, crushing Taylor's spirit. She wanted to scream, to shake Emma and force her to see reason, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Emma turned and stormed away, her entourage following in her wake, leaving Taylor standing alone in the corridor, her heart pounding and her mind racing. 
From that moment on, Taylor's life at the academy descended into a living nightmare. Emma's influence was vast, especially because of the fact that she was a Sophomore and the relationship between Sophomores and freshmen was already bad thanks to that post. 
But even then, there was something much more about this whole thing. 
The whispers turned into accusations, the sideways glances into open disdain. 
Students avoided her, and her once peaceful existence unraveled with alarming speed. 
Her friends who were already not that high in number had dwindled quickly, and even the business of her family got hit. 
The weeks following that confrontation blurred into a haze of misery for Taylor. The whispers never stopped, and the once-vibrant halls of the academy now felt like hostile territory. Students avoided her like a plague, their eyes filled with suspicion and judgment. Even those she had considered friends began to drift away, unwilling to associate with someone marked by scandal. 
At home, the situation was no better. The semester break, a time she had once cherished, turned into a harrowing ordeal. Her father, a proud and successful merchant, had always been a steady presence in her life—a source of comfort and inspiration. But now, that strength seemed to be crumbling under relentless pressure. 
Taylor often found him in his study, pacing back and forth with papers scattered across the desk. The once-confident man she knew had been replaced by someone haunted, his brows perpetually furrowed and his voice tinged with irritation. 
"I don't understand it, Taylor," her father said one evening, his voice strained. He was staring at a stack of letters from business partners, each more apologetic than the last, as they announced the end of their partnerships. "This... this isn't natural. Our contracts, our agreements—they've all been stable for years. And now, suddenly, everyone is pulling out. It's like someone's orchestrating this." 
Taylor sat at the dining table, her appetite gone. She stirred the cold tea in her cup, her mind racing. She knew. Deep down, she knew who was behind this. Emma. Emma's family, wealthy and influential in their own right, had turned their sights on her father's business as part of their calculated vengeance. 
But what could she say? How could she explain to her father that his hardships stemmed from a feud born in the academy? How could she tell him that Emma believed she had blackmailed her, using false evidence that Taylor herself had no way of disproving? 
"Taylor," her father's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He looked at her, his frustration softening into concern. "Do you know anything? Have you heard something at school?" 
She froze. For a moment, she thought about telling him the truth, about laying everything bare. But the thought of adding to his burdens—of seeing that frustration turn into anger or, worse, despair—kept her silent. 
"No, Dad," she said softly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I haven't heard anything." 
And she carried on. 
Maybe, somehow, things would get better if she were to hold on. 
Hence the second semester started. 
But it was futile. 
"Bitch. Didn't I tell you to drop out? You dare to defy my words?" Emma hissed, her voice low and venomous as she slammed Taylor against the wall. The impact sent a jolt through Taylor's body, her back pressing against the cold, unforgiving surface. Emma's grip on her collar was iron-tight, her nails digging into the fabric of Taylor's jacket. 
Taylor's head hung low, her violet eyes staring blankly at the floor. She didn't fight back. She didn't even raise her hands in defense. She could feel Emma's hot breath close to her face, the intensity of her rage bearing down like a crushing weight. 
Why me? Taylor asked herself, her mind spiraling into despair. Did I even deserve any of this? 
Her chest felt heavy, her throat tight with words she couldn't say. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand answers—but all she could do was endure. It was easier to let it happen, to weather the storm and hope it would pass. She was so tired. 
"Look at you," Emma spat, leaning in closer. "Pathetic. You thought you could humiliate me and get away with it? You've ruined my family's name, and I'll make sure you pay for every—" 
"Hey!" a voice suddenly called out, cutting through the tense atmosphere. 
Emma froze for a moment, her head snapping toward the sound. A group of freshmen had appeared at the far end of the corridor. They stopped in their tracks, their faces a mix of confusion and anger as they took in the scene before them. One of them pointed at the mark on Taylor's jacket. 
"She's a freshman," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "The sophomores are bullying the freshmen again." 
The group exchanged glances, the memories of the previous semester flashing in their minds. The retaliation from the freshmen against the sophomores had been brutal, born out of frustration and years of mistreatment. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, and now it had a fresh target. 
"Not this time," another freshman growled, stepping forward. "We're not letting this slide." 
Once again, a fight broke out.