Chapter 35: Three Spots

The next morning, students began arriving at the academy one after another. All sorts of flying vehicles streaked across the sky above the campus. Long Yin turned to glance at the room where Yuan Shaolin was staying. Ever since Long Yin had left, Xiao Chui had been watching him intently. According to Xiao Chui, Yuan Shaolin seemed very silent, but Long Yin could only respond to that with silence of his own.

On the way to the classroom, students from every year stepped aside to give them a wide berth. The looks directed at this unlikely pair were all tinged with the same awe and respect. The corridor fell into an eerie quiet. Xiao Chui carried Long Yin with a steady, unhurried pace, not fast nor slow, a leisurely stride that seemed almost torturous to the students around them.

Long Yin nodded inwardly; Xiao Chui was becoming increasingly adept at using every advantage to make others uncomfortable.

The moment Long Yin entered the classroom, the way everyone looked at him had changed. They were all peers, but he had dared to challenge the Crown Prince—and most importantly, he was still alive and well! Standing on the classroom platform, Long Yin swept his gaze downward like a monarch surveying his realm, his eyes cold and aloof. Over a thousand students sat in absolute silence, not daring to make a sound. The corners of Long Yin’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. His understated yet luxurious mask, paired with his all-white ensemble, made him appear both aloof and noble.

No one laughed at Long Yin now. To have gone head-to-head with the Crown Prince and emerged unscathed—even if only for one round—meant no one dared look down on him anymore. Of course, some still secretly dismissed him. Winning once meant little; everyone believed De Xin was the Crown Prince’s domain. No one thought Long Yin could last until the end.

Long Yin was well aware of the thoughts revealed in their eyes, but he cared little. Swiping his identification card, he strolled to his seat. Seeing the black stain left on his chair, Long Yin’s eyebrow arched. He dragged his chair across the wooden floor, creating a piercing screech that drew all eyes. The more observant noticed the stain and secretly snickered—not openly mocking, but not everyone was afraid to provoke Long Yin. There were always one or two who disliked him enough to play petty tricks, hoping to unsettle him.

Most people, faced with such a situation, could only swallow the insult, choosing to keep the peace for the sake of harmony. But Long Yin had never been one to let things slide—especially when an issue found him. He dragged his chair to the front beside the teacher’s podium, repositioned it, and then pulled the teacher’s chair over to his seat. Sitting atop the teacher’s chair, he quite literally looked down on his peers, scanning the room with a superior gaze. Spotting a few guilty, evasive glances, he sat back with a reserved smile.

Five minutes later, the ten-credit teacher arrived right on time. Naturally, the first thing he saw was Long Yin’s conspicuous act. As Long Yin expected, the teacher didn’t even lift an eyelid at the scene. He walked to the podium, glanced at the stained chair, and immediately understood what had happened. This bold way of handling things was new to him, but he didn’t wish to make an issue of it. He placed a stack of test papers on the podium and stood there, exchanging a brief look with Long Yin before turning his gaze away indifferently. The rest of the class, eager to see how things would unfold, were left speechless. Even the strict teacher had tacitly accepted Long Yin’s actions, and those whose view Long Yin now blocked could only grumble in silence.

With a cold, sweeping glance, the ten-credit teacher said expressionlessly, “Don’t come to me seeking justice. This classroom is what you make it. Whether you’re the instigator or the recipient, whether you find it bitter or sweet, you must bear the consequences yourselves. Those who like to play tricks, those who enjoy the spectacle, those who remain indifferent—these are all your choices. The feelings you experience are yours alone.”

Ultimately, as long as things didn’t spiral out of control, the ten-credit teacher remained detached.

What kind of person could produce such an unconventional, iconoclastic teacher? Long Yin couldn’t help but feel a trace of curiosity. He’d long known that this classroom in the Card-Making Academy was unique and free-spirited, but he hadn’t expected that this freedom extended even to handling student disputes. The more he saw, the more Long Yin found himself liking this place. Without realizing it, his posture grew more relaxed and casual, and when he looked at the ten-credit teacher, it was only a brief glance.

“According to the last test results, the top three scorers will serve as counselors,” the ten-credit teacher announced, his voice as impassive as ever.

Long Yin smiled. This ten-credit teacher suited his tastes perfectly.

Settling into his seat with an amused air and a slight curl to his lips, Long Yin’s demeanor drew a second glance from Rong Hua. His eyes appeared calm and still, but inwardly, he was intrigued. He had studied Long Yin’s test paper repeatedly and realized the answers were anything but simple. The solutions to the last few problems, in particular, revealed a mastery that spoke of ease and perhaps even a hint of nonchalance. This piqued Rong Hua’s curiosity—he had taught countless students in this classroom, seen plenty of geniuses, but Long Yin seemed to transcend even that category. Genius could be understood; Long Yin defied explanation. Was he a prodigy beyond compare?

The ten-credit teacher—Rong Hua.

Rong Hua tapped the podium, and three annotated test papers appeared on the projection panel behind him. Stepping aside, he said coolly, “These are the highest-scoring papers. Compare them to your own. If you believe you did better, you may come and request to replace one of the counselors. You have fifteen minutes. If there are no objections, these three will be your counselors.”

Among the three displayed papers, Long Yin easily found his own; unsurprisingly, he had the highest score, just as he expected. He gazed out the window, unconcerned.

Around him, cries of surprise and heated debates broke out, but in the midst of the noise, Long Yin remained serene and untouched, drawing Rong Hua’s gaze back to him again and again. Eventually, Rong Hua tore his eyes away, feeling that Long Yin simply didn’t fit in here.

The other two papers were less impressive, yet still stood out among the majority. Nobody dared challenge them.

In a classroom of several thousand, in the farthest corner, Gongliang Yi adjusted his thick glasses and busily calculated formulas from the highest-scoring paper projected on the screen. He seemed awkward and shy, shrinking every time anyone looked his way, head perpetually bowed, never meeting anyone’s eyes. Yet, paradoxically, the more he withdrew, the more he displayed wild confidence and even obsession in his field.

That was Gongliang Yi—utterly self-assured in card-making, even to the point of mania. He had ranked second this time, and though initially unwilling to accept being surpassed, as he studied the string of answers and formulas, he was gradually convinced. When he could no longer follow the calculations, he paused and pushed his glasses up again, finally admitting defeat. He didn’t know who the top scorer was, so he glanced around, trying to spot the one who had bested him. For some reason, his eyes kept drifting to the brightest point in the room. The radiance was dazzling, and Gongliang Yi blushed and looked away.

This person was unafraid of trouble, daring even to challenge the Crown Prince. Gongliang Yi admired him deeply. Even half-hidden behind a mask, the mere glimpse of his face could make one’s heart skip a beat. If that person was the sun, then Gongliang Yi was the tiniest star, hidden behind clouds even at night.

Could it be him? The thought kept recurring in Gongliang Yi’s mind.

Meanwhile, the owner of the third paper, Dodge, ruffled his curly hair in frustration. His grandfather was president of the Texas Card-Makers’ Guild and an A-level psychic. Forced into card-making from a young age, Dodge had already reached the second rank and was widely considered a genius. He’d thought topping the exam would be a walk in the park, but two freaks had suddenly appeared. The second one surprised him, but not overly so; the first, however, was extraordinary. Laymen might watch for amusement, but insiders could see the true skill. Having spent years immersed in the field, Dodge could tell at a glance that the top scorer was anything but ordinary. He himself was a second-rank card-maker—how advanced must the other be? Compared to that, he was nothing at all.

Fifteen minutes passed in a flash. Most, after seeing the top papers, gave up immediately. The fifteen minutes simply fueled their curiosity about the identity of the person who’d scored first. This classroom, though the most free, was also the strictest—no one without genuine skill dared enroll. Everyone here was a standout, a prodigy, and naturally could see true ability. The curiosity grew stronger, yet many overlooked Long Yin himself, since he’d left the exam so early that there hadn’t been time to even read the questions. The difficulty of the test here was legendary throughout the Card-Making Academy.

Under the gaze of thousands, Rong Hua retrieved the test papers.

“Third place: Dodge!” Amid thousands of envious gazes, Dodge went up to collect his paper.

“Second place: Gongliang Yi!” Thousands of eyes turned to the corner, but ten minutes passed with no movement. Rong Hua repeated, “Gongliang Yi.”

“Sir, maybe he isn’t here?”

“Gongliang Yi!” Rong Hua was unmoved, glancing toward the corner. Gongliang Yi, sweating nervously, swallowed hard. Called a third time, he knew he couldn’t avoid it. Clenching his fists for courage, he bolted to the podium, grabbed his paper, shielded his face, and darted back to his seat like a gust of wind. Most people barely had time to react before he was back in his spot.

Rong Hua was unperturbed. He picked up the paper he had studied repeatedly, shifting attention away from Gongliang Yi, who breathed a quiet sigh of relief while Dodge, who had looked down on Gongliang Yi, turned to watch.

“First place: Yin!” Everyone could sense it—even Rong Hua paused before announcing Long Yin’s name, as if he himself could hardly believe it.

Yin—this name was known to all in De Xin. Compared to his daring exploits, it seemed only natural that he should take first place.

Long Yin leapt down from his chair and walked slowly to the front, accepting his paper with a smile.

“So, I’m a counselor now?”

Rong Hua hadn’t expected the question, but nodded.

“Then may I leave?”

Rong Hua nodded, “You’re free to go.”

“Then, goodbye!” Waving his paper, Long Yin strolled out of the classroom nonchalantly. His attitude was nothing short of audacious.

But when Dodge, without a word, hurried after Long Yin, the whole thing became even more outrageous.

Two newly appointed counselors had just left! All eyes turned to Gongliang Yi, only to find that he had slipped out the back at some point. Was this also audacious?

All three counselors had left. Were they truly suited for the role? Teacher, do you really need such counselors?

Clearly, they were exactly what the teacher wanted, for the thousands of students heard him announce, “Yin, Gongliang Yi, Dodge—from this moment on, these three are your counselors!”