Next came Hu Yanli, the Beast-Kin Heir.

He sauntered up, winking at a female disciple nearby. He tossed a bag of bloody, unwashed cores onto the table.

"Sixty Rank 1. Five Rank 2."

He touched the Orb. It erupted in a wild, turbulent green and red flame.

"Fire and Wood Dual Root! High Grade! Excellent affinity for Beast Taming!"

One by one, the "LIs" took the stage. They were flashy. They were arrogant. They were undeniably talented.

Ji’an scanned the dais. She counted seven distinct seats of power representing the seven main peaks. But the seat reserved for the "Eternal Cloud Peak", the home of the mysterious Sect Elder, Qin Changxu, was empty.

"Absent," Ji’an noted. "Classic trope. The ’too cool for school’ Elder who only shows up when something interesting happens. Which means..."

She looked at Wangchen.

"...he’s probably watching from a hidden mirror somewhere."

Finally, it was time for the main event.

Wen Shiru stepped forward, guiding Gu Zhiwei with a gentle hand on his back. The contrast between the two people was striking.

Wen Shiru looked like a calculating Prince Charming, while Gu Zhiwei looked like a nervous, delicate flower about to be crushed by the weight of expectation.

"Don’t worry, Zhiwei," Wen Shiru’s voice carried over the silent plaza. "Just do as we practiced."

Wen Shiru went first. He approached the counting table. He didn’t dump his bag; he placed it down gently.

The deacon opened it and gasped.

"Eighty Rank 1 cores. Twenty Rank 2 cores. And... one Rank 3 Thunder-Claw Bear core!" 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

The crowd erupted in whispers. A Rank 3 beast? That was insane for an entrance exam.

Ji’an rolled her eyes. "Shared kill? Yeah, shared with us. He’s taking 50% of the credit for standing there and looking pretty."

Wen Shiru touched the Orb. It glowed with a steady, rich golden light, not sharp like Lu Jianheng’s, but heavy and oppressive.

"Gold Spirit Root! Top Grade!"

Wen Shiru smiled politely, bowed, and stepped aside. He turned to Gu Zhiwei. "Your turn."

Gu Zhiwei walked up to the table. He was trembling. He looked at the bag in his hands, a bag that was suspiciously heavy for someone who had spent most of the exam tripping over tree roots.

He poured it out.

The sound was deafening. A cascade of cores spilled over the table and onto the floor.

"One hundred Rank 1 cores. Thirty Rank 2 cores. And... the other half of the Rank 3 Thunder-Claw Bear."

The deacon’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "First place! Highest core count in fifty years!"

The crowd gasped. "Who is that?" "He looks so weak!" "How did he kill so many?"

"I bet the merchant guy gave them to him," Ji’an whispered to Wangchen. "Wen Shiru is investing in a ’White Lotus’ stock. He’s just pumping the numbers."

Wangchen frowned. "It is dishonest. He did not kill those."

"Welcome to politics, Little Puddle," Ji’an shrugged.

Gu Zhiwei, blushing furiously from the attention, reached out to touch the Orb.

The moment his fingertips grazed the crystal, the world went white.

It wasn’t a beam. It was an explosion. A pillar of pure, blinding white light shot straight up into the heavens, piercing the protective formation of the Sect.

The sound of angelic choirs echoed through the mountains.

The Elders on the dais shot to their feet. Even the bored ones dropped their tea cups.

"Sun Spirit Root!"

"The Legend of the Holy Light!"

"A physique untouched by impurity!"

The Head Elder, a man with a beard down to his knees, floated down from the dais, his eyes wide.

"Child! What is your name?"

"G-Gu Zhiwei," the protagonist stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden adoration.

"Gu Zhiwei," the Elder proclaimed, his voice amplified by Qi. "You are a Heaven-Chosen Child! You will be a Direct Disciple immediately! Every Peak will fight to have you!"

Gu Zhiwei looked around, bewildered. He looked at Wen Shiru, who was smiling proudly. Then, he looked into the crowd. His eyes locked onto Ji’an.

He smiled, a genuine, tearful smile, and gave her a small wave, as if saying, ’Look, Brother Lin! I did it!’

Ji’an gave him a polite thumbs up, then immediately ducked behind a tall guy.

"Too bright," she hissed. "The plot armor is blinding me. Wangchen, cover my eyes."

.

.

.

The commotion eventually died down, though the murmurs about the "Saint" continued. Gu Zhiwei was ushered to a special VIP seating area, flanked by Wen Shiru and the other impressed Male Leads.

"Next!" the deacon shouted, sounding exhausted after the excitement. "Number 458 and 459!"

That was them.

"Go," Ji’an said, nudging Wangchen.

Wangchen didn’t move. He stood there, clutching his spatial bag.

"Young Master," he whispered urgently. "I have... I have too many cores."

"Yeah, because we killed half the forest. What’s the problem?"

"These cores..." Wangchen looked at the bag. "Most of them were your kills. You stunned the Viper. You blinded the Bear. I only dealt the final blow. They belong to you."

He tried to shove the bag into her hands. "You take them. You become the Direct Disciple. I will be your servant in the Outer Sect."

Ji’an stared at him. This guy. This absolute, loyal fool. He was willing to throw away his future just to maintain the hierarchy.

She shoved the bag back.

"I can’t take them," she lied, keeping her face straight. "My spatial bag is full of... um... heavy cooking equipment. If I take those, the magical signature will clash and explode. Do you want me to explode?"

Wangchen blinked. "That... that is not how spatial bags work."

"It is with my cheap bag," she doubled down. "Besides, I don’t want to be a Direct Disciple. Too much responsibility. I want to be an Outer Disciple so I can sneak out and buy snacks. Direct Disciples are locked in caves for years! Do you want to lock me in a cave?"

"No," Wangchen said immediately.

"Then go!" Ji’an grabbed his shoulders, spun him around, and shoved him hard toward the dais.