Chapter Seventy-six: Yun Ranran of Jiuzhou Academy

A commotion rippled through the crowd. Yun Ranran glanced over and saw several elders crowding around a student, their voices clamoring. Driven by curiosity, she decided to get up and take a look.

Many students waiting for their turn were whispering, “Who was that just now? It's been ages since anyone displayed a purple talent—how rare to witness it today!”

Someone nearby replied, “Judging by those clothes, he must be from one of the great clans.”

Suddenly, a head popped up behind them. “What clan scion? You have no eye for it—he’s the Sacred Son of the Nine Provinces Continent, just here at the academy to experience life!”

The speaker’s tone was so proud that it was obvious he belonged to the Sacred Son’s entourage. The others soon caught on. “The Sacred Son? But doesn’t the Sacred Institute of the Nine Provinces have better resources?”

The boy, beaming with pride, rolled his eyes. “I told you—he’s only here to experience life!”

They fell silent, for the Sacred Son was not to be spoken of lightly.

It was said that the Sacred Son of the Nine Provinces Continent was one who could speak with the gods, a destiny reserved for the chosen one alone.

As Yun Ranran drew closer, she heard Zitan ask, “Your talent is better suited to the Sacred Hall. Why come here?”

Peering through a gap, Yun Ranran finally caught a clear glimpse of the youth: he stood tall and graceful, every gesture exuding nobility. His raven-dark eyes shone with intelligence, and his complexion was as fair as snow, making Yun Ranran feel self-conscious by comparison.

She heard the youth’s pleasant voice answer, “Naturally, I am here to learn.”

Zitan asked no more and had someone lead him away to register his details.

Yun Ranran stole a glance at the name written on the form: Luo Nanshu.

By the end of the day, just over a hundred candidates had been chosen.

Two failed the interview and were eliminated. They wept openly in the middle of the road, as if they’d lost their parents, until their families came and led them away.

Those chosen could not afford to grow complacent, either. Within a month of entry, the academy would hold a preliminary exam, and any who failed would also be sent home.

The Academy of the Nine Provinces tested across a wide range of subjects, with the rules changing every year. Yun Ranran clearly remembered how Little Scoundrel once told her about the year the academy simply tossed the freshmen into the Demon Binding Tower—each floor locked with a different beast. In their panic, everyone fought desperately to slay minor monsters, but in the end, the real test was teamwork. Many were expelled for fighting over their companions’ demon cores, never to be readmitted.

The methods might have been harsh, but the goal was certainly achieved, and the impact most profound.

The next morning, Yun Ranran took over from another instructor, dreading the endless stream of students ahead and eager for the afternoon shift change.

Test their talent, test their spiritual root, then send them on for an interview—none of the three steps could be skipped. Yun Ranran’s face was expressionless as she repeated her task, “Average talent, fire root. Next.”

In Yun Ranran’s mind, calling “next” was as good as saying “you failed,” while “go for an interview” meant you were one step closer to success.

“Average talent, water root. Next! Hurry up!”

By now, Yun Ranran had lost count of how many she’d eliminated; her mind was filled with nothing but “next, next, next.”

A pale, delicate hand pressed against the trial stone before her, and for a long moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, without warning, the stone cracked.

The students in line behind began to murmur, only to be silenced by two instructors.

Yun Ranran paused, then slowly looked up. No one heard what she said, but the youth before her understood perfectly—she had called his name, Zhong Li.

Yun Ranran could hardly believe the person before her was actually Zhong Li. Were it not for his expression and identical features, she would have suspected this was Zhong Li’s child!

Zhong Li flashed a smile, dimples deepening, adding a touch of youthful charm. “Instructor, the trial stone seems broken. Is there another?”

It took Yun Ranran a while to nod. She asked Zitan for a new stone, then warned, “Go easy this time—this is Zitan’s last one!”

Zhong Li said nothing, and Yun Ranran didn’t bother arguing. The trial stone’s colors began to change furiously—white, green, red, purple—finally settling on a deep blue.

Yun Ranran steadied her jaw, half-dislocated in shock. “Excellent talent, thunder root. Go for your interview. I’ll find you after my shift ends!”

It was the first time anyone had seen a trial stone change colors like a painter’s palette, and everyone craned their necks to look.

“Form a proper line or you’ll all be disqualified!” Yun Ranran roared, and the crowd finally quieted.

She could only hope the afternoon would come quickly, so she could track Zhong Li down and get to the bottom of things.

“Next…”

Zitan had watched Yun Ranran and Zhong Li’s exchange with growing curiosity. Since when did Ranran know this person?

By noon, it was time to eat. Yun Ranran handed over her duties and slipped out of the academy, wandering the streets restlessly.

She’d meant to find Zhong Li, but in her haste, she hadn’t set a meeting place. With such a long street, she’d be searching until dark.

She couldn’t help but curse Zhong Li under her breath for being so thoughtless, when suddenly a familiar voice sounded in her ear, “Shuiyun Pavilion.”

Yun Ranran fingered the earring at her lobe—one given to her by Zhong Li of the Crimson Moon Dynasty. She’d put it on as soon as she arrived here.

After walking nearly the length of the street, she found Shuiyun Pavilion just around the corner. Yun Ranran didn’t know whether to be angrier at herself for her foolishness or at Zhong Li for not giving her directions.

Entering the teahouse, she immediately spotted Zhong Li by the window, pouring tea. He no longer exuded the old sense of security; now, standing next to her, they looked more like siblings.

“What happened to you? Bone-shrinking technique or the art of returning to youth?”

Without ceremony, Yun Ranran picked up the tea in front of her and took a sip, even smacking her lips and spitting out a tea leaf.

Zhong Li’s hand paused mid-lift, as if he’d meant to say something affectionate, then instead proceeded to explain, “You little ingrate—it was all for your sake.”

Hearing such words from the “youth” before her, Yun Ranran jumped up in shock, eyes wide. “Confess! Have you been possessed?”

Zhong Li set his teacup down, fingers interlaced, sitting upright and proper. “First of all, that cup of tea—you just drank from mine.”

Watching Yun Ranran frantically try to spit out her very bile, he chuckled. “Second, I haven’t been possessed. This technique is imprinted in my memory.”

When Zhong Li extended his hand for her to examine, Yun Ranran hesitated, then placed her own paw in his. Even though her hand was now a size smaller, his was still much bigger.

His pulse was steady—it was Zhong Li, no mistake. “Fine,” she muttered.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she demanded, “So why were you drinking two cups of tea by yourself? Explain!”

Zhong Li looked innocent. “I was going to say, but you moved too fast. Still, what’s a little thing like this between master and disciple? I’m not one to hold grudges.”