Chapter 75 Old Man Deng! You’ve Been Exposed! (Please Subscribe)

Great Zhou’s capital.

The Duke of the Nation’s residence.

Cheng Guang had risen early; he had just left the Pavilion of Myriad Phenomena with Bai Shuxuan and hadn’t yet exited the estate when he encountered Madam Wu, Yue Mei, hurrying toward him.

Madam Wu Yue Mei knew Cheng Guang was headed today to the site of the martial arts examination, carrying out duties for the Lampbearer Bureau. Though she was aware that this task had already been completed in advance for him by Cheng Zhi Hai, meaning he merely needed to attend and go through the motions to become a member of the Lampbearer Bureau—taking the first step toward inheriting the family legacy—it was a simple matter, yet still quite important.

Moreover, the martial examination would last at least three or four days, which meant Cheng Guang might not return home for that period. Such a prolonged absence made Madam Wu Yue Mei quite concerned.

Cheng Zhi Hai had vanished early, busy elsewhere, and if he had been present, Madam Wu would certainly have brought him along as well. After all, what parent doesn’t see their child off when they go on a long journey?

She was slightly annoyed, but refrained from showing it before Cheng Guang, instead beaming gently.

“Guang’er, why are you up so early? You don’t even need to participate in the actual examination; whether you go early or late makes no difference.”

Cheng Guang’s early rising was entirely out of worry—if he arrived too late, he might miss the moment the black-robed men cast their restrictions and be locked out. He didn’t want to be left behind.

But such things were difficult to explain to Madam Wu; he could only nod obediently and not reply.

Madam Wu Yue Mei sighed at Cheng Guang’s demeanor, then her gaze fell upon Bai Shuxuan standing beside him and she was momentarily stunned.

It had only been a few days since she last paid attention to Cheng Guang, and somehow he’d brought home another young woman. This girl was breathtakingly beautiful, her gaze entirely fixed on Guang’er.

Madam Wu was first surprised, then a bit troubled. She had previously worried that Cheng Guang might be indifferent to the charms of women, which was why she had arranged for Qingluan to be at his side. Now, she suddenly feared he might be too interested. Heaven forbid, before the engagement she had set for him yielded any result, he might bring ten or more girls home.

Granted, this was a good thing—it benefitted the expansion of the Duke’s house. But still, Madam Wu felt the family had to consider the dignity of the women involved. Before marriage, it was best to exercise restraint.

She wanted to nag him a little, but as the words reached her lips, concern overtook her.

“Guang’er, this martial arts examination between Great Zhou and Great Wei takes place on Crane Cry Island, several hundred li from the capital. It’s a long journey; you must be careful. The estate guards can’t enter Crane Cry Island—only Lampbearer Bureau members can protect you. You must watch out for yourself, and if danger arises, hide behind them at once, understand?”

Madam Wu tapped Cheng Guang’s forehead gently.

“Don’t worry about pride. If we’re cowards, so be it; pride means nothing—survival is what matters.”

Cheng Guang nodded, docile as ever. “Mother, don’t worry.”

Madam Wu finished speaking, then seemed to feel she was worrying too much, laughing and shaking her head.

“Perhaps I’m just overanxious. The examination is watched by countless in the capital—the Emperor and the Empress of Great Wei are present. I doubt anything untoward will happen.”

She straightened Cheng Guang’s collar and smiled tenderly. “Without realizing it, Guang’er, you’ve grown two heads taller than me. I can no longer pat your little head as I did when you were a child.”

“All right, go on now. If I keep talking, you’ll find me tiresome.”

She stepped aside, opening the path for him.

For some reason, Cheng Guang felt a warmth in his heart, but the events soon to unfold might cause her unnecessary worry. A strange sense of sorrow welled up within him—even though she was not his real mother, her concern was genuine.

His mood grew complicated.

“Mother, I’m off then?”

Madam Wu nodded with a smile. At that moment, Steward Wang approached, bowing respectfully.

“Your Highness, the jade sedan is ready.”

Cheng Guang was taken aback. Clearly, Madam Wu had arranged this for him. Though anxious, she never obstructed him, instead quietly managing all the trivialities.

At that moment, a light breeze stirred Cheng Guang’s hair. For reasons unknown, he was reminded of his parents in his previous life, fussing over him before school, worrying if he could look after himself, all the while packing his luggage silently.

His nose tingled. Feeling Madam Wu’s concern, his emotions grew more tangled.

After bowing, he said nothing further and led Bai Shuxuan into the jade sedan.

The carriage moved on.

Sitting within, Cheng Guang lifted the curtain and looked back, seeing the figures who cared for him still standing by the gate, unwilling to leave even as he traveled far. Until the gates were out of sight, Madam Wu Yue Mei seemed still to be standing there.

Cheng Guang dropped the curtain and took a deep breath.

Ever since crossing into this world, he’d never considered himself truly a member of the Duke’s house—merely a substitute, an outsider facing Madam Wu and Cheng Zhi Hai.

Because of what happened to his predecessor, he harbored certain feelings toward the entire Duke’s family.

Yet, in all honesty, except for the true heir who toyed with his life, Madam Wu Yue Mei and Cheng Zhi Hai had treated him exceedingly well.

If one day he were forced by his predecessor’s grievances to turn his blade against them, Cheng Guang doubted he could do it.

He accepted their kindness as a debt of gratitude, and if he killed their son in the future, it would be retribution.

Evil for evil.

As for the fall of Great Chu, there seemed to be deeper secrets….

The Duke was merely a blade.

But who wielded it?

The Great Zhou Emperor? Someone else?

Cheng Guang’s thoughts were a tangled mess. His feelings toward the Wu couple were complicated.

As long as his identity remained hidden, why not continue being their son?

But if exposed, it would be a life-and-death struggle.

By then, choice would not be his to make.

Cheng Guang slowly closed his eyes.

His sense of urgency about dealing with the true heir grew stronger.

Even if the real heir stood before Cheng Zhi Hai now, he might not recognize him—but a dead man who can’t speak is safest.

“A substitute’s life is still a life…”

Cheng Guang opened his eyes, gazing out the window, murmuring to himself. He wasn’t sure if he spoke to himself or to the heir who toyed with his fate.

The carriage rolled on.

Half an hour later.

They had left the city gates.

Outside, the imperial road stretched ahead, the convoy like a long dragon.

Besides martial arts academy students heading for the examination, many merchants made for Crane Cry Island.

Within the capital, ordinary people could pay to view the examination’s projection via rare treasures.

Those without means but wishing to watch could only climb the mountains near Crane Cry Island to catch a distant glimpse.

The usually unimpeded road was now thronged with people.

One way was like watching from outside, another like seeing a live broadcast.

Cheng Guang couldn’t help but wonder if the business of transmitting the examination was run by the Great Zhou Emperor himself. Knowing defeat was certain, he found ways to make money from other avenues.

Profits stacked up.

Cheng Guang shook his head in admiration.

“Sigh, another martial arts examination every four years. Can our academy fight? Not at all.”

“His Majesty shouldn’t have supported commoners—it divided our noble resources.”

“How many years has it been? We’ve lost three times in a row. If we lose again, it’ll be the greatest shame.”

“Lose to Wei today, who knows which small country tomorrow. Can’t the academy students show some backbone? Have they no face?”

“Used to it. Losing is normal. I don’t expect them to win anymore.”

On the way to Crane Cry Island, Cheng Guang listened to the conversations of passersby, reflecting that this scene felt oddly reminiscent of the national football team.

The Great Zhou Martial Academy was founded by the court to promote martial prowess, gathering many elite students.

The establishment of the academy struck a heavy blow to many martial sects.

Young people, lacking martial virtue, snatched opportunities from ancient sects.

The motto was “education for all.”

Anyone could learn martial arts for a fee.

Talent and achievement weren’t guaranteed, but graduation from the academy meant at worst an official post in the local county.

In martial sects, people struggled for techniques, only to face factional strife and suppression. Compared to that, the academy was far superior.

Though there was still division between nobles and commoners, the Emperor’s intervention ensured that within the academy, everyone started equally.

Resource allocation depended on ability.

No matter how powerful one’s family, there was no backdoor in the academy.

That’s why Cheng Zhi Hai hadn’t sent Cheng Guang to the academy—because there was no backdoor.

Without backdoors, what is nobility?

Many nobles sulked, ready to flip the table, but seeing the Emperor’s forty-meter saber, quietly resumed eating, smiles radiant.

—“Heh, got an eye for people.”

Many noble families learned to keep their children out of the academy, training them at home with their own resources and traditions.

Like Cheng’s family, never attending the academy.

Or, obediently send them in and compete with commoners.

Fair competition, but true fairness is rare.

Within the academy, things were fair; outside, everyone’s family was different. The wealthy had tutors and family martial arts; commoners did not.

Even so, the Emperor gave commoners a path.

At the same time, he suppressed the martial sects.

Everyone knew that martial people were hardest to govern; if Great Zhou fell, it was the internal sects that would be happiest, not enemy nations.

Two birds with one stone.

The Emperor was truly cunning.

By contrast, Great Wei’s academy was more like the army—martial sects and court kept their distance.

The division between nobles and commoners was less pronounced.

Most conflict was external—foreign enemies.

Mainly, it was poverty.

Nobles weren’t much richer than commoners; the commoners scoffed at what little they had.

So much for nobility.

The two countries’ situations were quite different.

Cheng Guang sighed, riding in the carriage, soon arriving at the ferry near Crane Cry Island.

Qiao Songshan appeared, standing on the street, scanning around. Upon seeing Cheng Guang, he waved happily.

“Boss, over here!”

Cheng Guang led Bai Shuxuan off the carriage, glancing at Qiao Songshan. “Why are you waiting for me?”

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“You’re going to the examination. Shouldn’t you get on the island early to seize the advantage?”

Qiao Songshan chuckled, “No rush. The rules haven’t been announced yet.”

“I thought since you had to complete the Lampbearer Bureau’s task, you’d be entering the island. So I waited for you.”

Heh, the kid does have some filial spirit. I’m quite gratified.

Cheng Guang nodded, making idle conversation with Qiao Songshan.

“Boss, I heard the rules have changed this time. It’s not one-on-one matches, but a melee.”

“A melee?”

“Yes. Every student is blindfolded and led to a cabin. When the examination begins, they can remove the blindfold and act freely.”

“They’re testing not just martial skill, but judgment and survival—how to endure among beasts and enemies on the island.”

“After three or four days, whichever side—Wei or Zhou—has more students left wins.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Cheng Guang’s eyes narrowed.

Such a chaotic scene was intriguing, reminiscent of battle royale games from his previous life.

But here, it wasn’t solo, but team combat.

“Indeed, the rule change was supposedly won by the Great Zhou Academy’s dean. Our students might lose in duels, but in group fights, maybe there’s a chance.”

Qiao Songshan scratched his head.

Cheng Guang shook his head. “Hard to say.”

Even without interference from black-robed men, Zhou might not win.

Wei was a harsh land; their ancestors were called wildmen, barbarians, famed for fighting off foreign tribes.

Even a three-year-old there could ride a horse and pretend to fight.

Even a seventy-year-old woman with no teeth would dare charge into battle, fearless.

Wei’s people revered martial strength, obsessed with getting stronger and securing resources.

With little to spare, if they didn’t grow strong and seize, their nation would decline—a deadlock.

Three years ago, when the Emperor of Wei retired and the Empress took over, dissent was quickly suppressed. Now, nearly all of Wei accepts her rule.

Under her governance, Wei’s people began to cultivate spiritual crops, exploit their resources, and squeeze neighboring countries.

Even from a giant like Great Zhou, they managed to bite off a chunk.

Life under the Empress was easier than under the Emperor.

Previously, Wei’s academy students could already trample Zhou’s; now, under her lead, they might be even fiercer.

Cheng Guang didn’t know precisely what benefits were at stake from the examination, but for Zhou, they weren’t critical.

Zhou was rich and didn’t care for a few scraps.

Those scraps, however, were Wei’s lifeblood.

Each side’s perspective differed: Zhou could take or leave it; Wei fought for their lives.

That’s how the examination reached this point.

Cheng Guang suspected the Emperor of Zhou, to avoid pushing Wei to desperation and starting a war, set up this examination as a reasonable way to surrender some resources.

If he gave them away directly, the court’s ministers would raise hell.

Through the examination, he soothed Wei, avoided war, and inspired Zhou’s academy students—showing them true courage and wolfishness.

Compared to Wei’s students, Zhou’s were meek lambs, lacking spirit.

In terms of momentum, they were already at a disadvantage.

The more Cheng Guang thought, the more he admired the Emperor’s arrangement.

Lost in thought, they soon arrived at the ferry.

Cheng Guang, Bai Shuxuan, Qiao Songshan, and other academy students boarded the boat for the island.

Upon landing, Qiao Songshan and the students were blindfolded and led off by academy teachers.

“Your Highness, the island will soon be chaotic. Please come rest in the building; Lord Qian is there, and something seems amiss with the examination.”

A Lampbearer Bureau agent appeared beside Cheng Guang.

Cheng Guang nodded, following the agent toward the island’s center, his mind swirling.

So Qian Siyuan was here—had the Bureau discovered something?

He narrowed his eyes, asking casually, “What’s wrong?”

The agent replied respectfully, “For some reason, the spiritual energy here is much thinner than usual. Many Bureau spies have lost contact. Lord Qian suspects trouble and told me to bring Your Highness to the center as soon as you arrived.”

Cheng Guang nodded, his gaze turning odd.

He had wondered how, with spiritual energy nearly cut off, the system’s mission target—the heir—could survive.

It seemed the Bureau had sensed something amiss, but the enemy was too cunning and hidden. Even Qian Siyuan, though aware, could do little.

Especially since the enemy used restrictions—a rare and precious artifact.

Even Qian Siyuan, a mighty eighth-rank king, could not do much without spiritual energy, only quietly guarding Cheng Guang.

Only someone like Qian Siyuan, strong even without spiritual power, could protect him in such circumstances.

Otherwise, the black-robed men would certainly seize the opportunity to deal with him.

To them, Cheng Guang was a gift delivered to their door.

He exhaled, suppressing his tangled thoughts, scanning his surroundings.

Crane Cry Island was oval-shaped, like a shining pearl floating on a rippling lake.

Its perimeter was encircled by massive stone walls, weathered by countless storms yet unyielding. Moss and vines covered the walls, adding a mysterious aura.

Entering, the first sight was a towering stone stele in the island’s center, recording each academy student’s identity and status.

Though an examination, it was real combat—despite martial teachers from both Wei and Zhou guarding the island, they couldn’t always protect everyone in time.

The center held a sprawling complex of ancient buildings, constructed from immense wood and stone, arranged harmoniously.

Students weren’t brought here, but the area might be part of the battlefield.

Hiding places were few.

The central pavilion was one.

Most staff, and the deans of both Wei and Zhou, stood here, overseeing the examination.

“Your Highness, Lord Qian ordered me to bring you here. Many academy teachers and both deans are present—it’s safe. You may choose any spot to watch.”

“This token, if you leave the pavilion, hang it at your waist. The students won’t dare attack you.”

The agent handed Cheng Guang the token, bowed, and vanished.

He weighed the token, finding it heavy, marked with the Lampbearer Bureau’s name.

Qian Siyuan had provided extra protection, wary of reckless Wei students.

Cheng Guang hung it at his waist, didn’t greet anyone, but went alone to the pavilion’s top floor, surveying the island.

A servant thoughtfully brewed tea and brought it to him.

He wondered who had arranged this.

As he pondered, an elderly yet kind voice reached his ears.

“Your Highness, I hadn’t expected you to come—are you here on Lampbearer Bureau business?”

Cheng Guang turned to see an old man.

His white robe was like jade worn by time, pure and deep, blending with the surroundings, exuding transcendent tranquility.

His face was like autumn leaves, marked by age, eyes sunken yet bright.

Cheng Guang recognized him.

Dean Qiu Zhi Jin of Great Zhou’s Martial Academy.

The academy was a top-tier institution, controlling almost all martial arts in Zhou. Sects suppressed by the Bureau had their techniques seized; most were sent to the academy.

The academy was the Bureau’s main source of new strength.

The Bureau also fostered the academy’s growth.

Within Zhou, the academy was unrivaled by any sect.

Their relationship was close, so it was no surprise he knew Cheng Guang, but coming to greet him personally was unexpected.

He was a peer of Cheng Zhi Hai.

Though Cheng Guang’s status was high, Qiu Zhi Jin could have ignored him.

This special greeting, complete with tea, was oddly abrupt.

Cheng Guang was puzzled, but outwardly nodded. “Yes, I have a task.”

Qiu Zhi Jin smiled. “A task is good—it means Cheng Zhi Hai is grooming you, preparing you to take charge of the Lampbearer Bureau step by step.”

His voice was gentle as a stream, slow yet clear, soothing agitation and anxiety, bringing peace and comfort.

He seemed warm and courteous to everyone, his words embodying wisdom and grace, making people feel respected and understood.

So amiable.

Yet, to Cheng Guang, it felt fake.

The old fox—like a wolf greeting a chicken, surely up to something.

Cheng Guang knew trouble would arise during the examination and viewed everyone with suspicion.

He naturally guarded against Qiu Zhi Jin.

“Heh.”

Cheng Guang forced a smile but didn’t contradict him.

Qiu Zhi Jin smiled, his gaze falling on Bai Shuxuan beside Cheng Guang, feigning surprise.

“Your Highness, this young lady is…?”

Cheng Guang glanced at him, inwardly wanting to retort—what’s it to you?

But as Qiu Zhi Jin’s intentions were unclear, Cheng Guang decided to play along.

“A servant. Why?”

“A servant…”

Qiu Zhi Jin murmured, quietly observing Cheng Guang, then said,

“Since she’s your servant, I’ll ask no more.”

“Your Highness, the tea is excellent—soothing. Drink plenty. I must oversee the examination—both the Emperor and the Wei Empress are watching. I cannot neglect my duty. I’ll take my leave.”

He smiled and departed, his gaze lingering on Bai Shuxuan, brow slightly furrowed, closing the door behind him.

Even as he closed the door, his expression remained perfectly warm and kind.

As the door shut, Cheng Guang’s own brow slowly furrowed.

Qiu Zhi Jin was clearly not right.

Cheng Guang examined the tea, about to pour it out when Bai Shuxuan spoke,

“Your Highness, there’s something dirty in this tea.”

Something dirty?

Did the old fox try to poison him?

Cheng Guang’s eyes widened, inspecting the cup closely.

He saw nothing amiss.

Bai Shuxuan nodded, her eyes glimmering. She lightly tapped the cup, extracting an almost invisible worm from the steaming tea.

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The worm was liquid-like, transparent even when extracted, nearly undetectable.

Had Bai Shuxuan not pointed it out, Cheng Guang wouldn’t have noticed the insect.

His expression darkened. Damn.

The old fox was truly a wolf.

Qiu Zhi Jin, dean of the academy.

The island’s strongest, most reliable barrier was the presence of the two deans.

If Qiu Zhi Jin could betray, what about the Wei dean?

Cheng Guang felt utterly exasperated.

Qiu Zhi Jin was a ninth-rank Martial Emperor, one step from the transcendent realm. Cheng Guang, a mere small fry, couldn’t possibly best him—even Qian Siyuan couldn’t.

If not for the restriction suppressing spiritual energy, Qiu Zhi Jin’s power would be hard to counter. Even with Qian Siyuan guarding him, Cheng Guang might not escape.

He exhaled, sweat pouring from his forehead.

If Qiu Zhi Jin had acted just now, he’d be dead.

Thankfully, the old fox seemed to want both to eliminate him and sabotage the examination, so he held back.

Cheng Guang smirked. The fox had finally slipped.

If he hadn’t known in advance about the coming disaster, he might have taken him for a good man.

He ascended the pavilion, surveying the island, watching students blindfolded and led by teachers to their places.

This time, watching others fight, acting as referee, was rather enjoyable.

Only regret—the referee’s role was nominal, mainly slacking off, and during that, to give the black-robed men a shock.

“Your Highness, what should we do now…?” Bai Shuxuan looked at Cheng Guang, worried.

Qiu Zhi Jin had given her tremendous pressure.

Just now, as his gaze brushed her, she felt a terrifying force.

Moreover…

Bai Shuxuan felt a strange familiarity with Qiu Zhi Jin, as if she had seen him somewhere.

But her head ached, nothing came to mind. The more she tried, the paler her face became, heart aching unbearably, so she dared not recall further.

Cheng Guang, hearing her, soothed her by pinching her cheek. “It’s fine—the old fox won’t hold back much longer.”

He stroked her face as if petting a cat, savoring her softness, while pondering Qiu Zhi Jin’s exposure as the main culprit.

Why hadn’t the system notified mission completion?

Cheng Guang closed his eyes, recalling.

This system mission had two objectives: find the mastermind, and give them a profound lesson.

Though the system was a bit idiotic, its mission logic was reliable.

So—

Apparently, discovering the culprit and teaching them a lesson were equally difficult.

Qiu Zhi Jin might be one of the masterminds, but not the only one.

Behind him…

There was someone else, perhaps another force.

The thought drenched Cheng Guang’s back in cold sweat.

Damn.

Could it be tied to the transcendent realm?

Cheng Guang was stunned.

Unknowingly, he seemed caught in a massive whirlpool again.

The system’s target heir knew nothing, muddled through survival, later becoming transcendent—a stroke of fortune.

Then Cheng Guang was startled.

The real heir had such luck.

But now, his soul had been scrubbed clean, memories erased, meridians ruined—surely nothing could go wrong?

Cheng Guang’s eyelid twitched, feeling an ominous premonition.

Fortunately, Lin Cheng was still guarding him at White Deer Manor; nothing should happen yet.

Otherwise, Cheng Guang would be hopping mad.

Damn, he’d kill him at once.

This heir’s luck was abnormal—every second alive was an affront.

Just as he thought this—

A deep, ancient bell sounded, resonating through the air.

As the bell tolled, it seemed to signal the opening of a grand curtain.

A voice, imbued with surging spiritual energy, spread in all directions.

It was Qiu Zhi Jin’s voice.

“The martial arts examination between Great Wei and Great Zhou, rules are as follows.”

“Rule One: Leaving the island is forbidden; violators are deemed dead.”

“Rule Two: Students may freely engage—no limits on numbers or teams. Fainting or exhaustion counts as death, and they are removed from the island.”

“Rule Three: Examination lasts thirty-four hours; at the end, whichever academy has more survivors wins. If equal, extend by one hour until a victor emerges.”

“Rule Four: Intentional killing is forbidden; violators will be executed.”

The announcements rippled through the island’s air.

Zhou and Wei academy students showed little surprise, quietly removing their blindfolds and flexing their arms.

They knew that throughout the capital, the Emperor, the Wei Empress, envoys, officials, and countless citizens watched their performance.

On this grand stage, a chance to shine and make a name.

Many faces showed excitement and anticipation.

At the same time—

Great Zhou’s capital.

Within the majestic palace, all was tranquil and solemn.

Exquisitely carved jade pillars supported the lofty dome, golden tapestries adorned the walls, making the hall resplendent.

As morning’s first light shone through the stained glass, envoys and nobles from all over arrived.

The martial arts trial between Wei and Zhou was not merely entertainment.

It allowed them to observe the strength of the younger generation in both realms.

The strength of a generation, in some sense, foretells the future power of the two empires.

A glance served as a warning at home, quelling ambitions.

Better to be a content vassal.

Many envoys, after some time in Zhou, felt just that.

The Emperor of Zhou sat on his jade throne, clad in dragon robes and golden crown, face stern, gaze sweeping the assembly, calmly accepting their homage.

Footsteps sounded outside.

The eunuch’s shrill voice announced:

“The Empress of Wei arrives!”

The words fell.

The Empress of Wei strode in.

She wore an elaborate purple-black robe, perfectly tailored to accentuate her lithe form.

Intricate golden embroidery glinted in the sunlight, lending her a mesmerizing beauty.

Her face was like the moon, breathtakingly lovely. Her long hair flowed like a black waterfall over her slender shoulders, complementing her deep eyes.

Her gaze shimmered with purple-black waves, like stars in the night, profound and captivating.

Aloof, her nobility obvious.

The Empress of Wei met the Emperor of Zhou’s gaze, her youthful, exquisite face unflinching.

The two rulers met for the first time, calmly staring at each other.

The Emperor, at first unimpressed, found the Empress far different from his expectations.

Within her youthful grace, a power equal to his own seemed to reside.

Was she transcendent?

A flicker of surprise crossed his stern eyes—he hadn’t expected that this Empress, barely twenty, had reached the transcendent realm.

If so, she could indeed rule Wei.

He pondered silently, his face as cold as ice, betraying nothing.

They stared at each other, the air seeming to freeze.

The hall, lively moments before, fell silent.

Officials held their tongues.

Only the Wei envoys, looking upon their Empress, straightened their backs.

Proud of her.

A transcendent at twenty!

Who’d ever seen that?

Our Empress is one!

Many Wei envoys drew admiring, envious glances.

After a pause—

The Emperor of Zhou slowly raised his hand, gesturing to the side. “Sit.”

The Empress of Wei walked to his side and took her seat.

The Emperor did not focus on her, nor engage in lengthy conversation, but neither did he show any disrespect.

His stern gaze swept the hall.

Apparently sensing the time had come, he produced a crystal stone, set it beside him, and tapped lightly.

The crystal chimed.

Sunlight refracted through it in seven colors.

Above, golden rays coalesced, forming a scroll.

The scroll unfurled, projecting an image.

It was Crane Cry Island.

A gentle, aged voice, belonging to the academy dean, explained the rules.

Many envoys sat up, gazing at the projection.

They awaited—

Which students from Wei and Zhou would distinguish themselves in the trial.

……

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