Edwin felt his temples throbbing rhythmically.
Why send them directly to prison?!
That was not how the test process was supposed to go! A student should first interact with that family, attempt to build a connection, show limited sympathy, and perhaps give them some trivial food or firewood. Then, amidst the guilt of being unable to change the outcome, they would face the frozen corpses of the family of three during the next visit, thereby experiencing a profound moral sting regarding the limitations of kindness.
This was called emotional immersion! This was called educational significance!
What was this “found they were freezing to death so I just found an excuse to lock them in a cell with a roof and meals for the winter” logic?!
And that child! Why give them a piece of candy with a cheerful face and ship them off to the church? What was this? A humanitarian speedrun?!
He would not accept this! It completely deviated from the core spirit of the test!
Decades of teaching experience screamed in his mind, forming a single conclusion: a student with such bizarre thinking and completely unpredictable behavior absolutely could not appear in his classroom! “Who exactly is this person?!” Edwin rubbed his swollen forehead, his voice rising half an octave.
“Oh, speaking of that,” Professor Roland said as if he had just remembered, pulling a thick envelope from the pocket of his purple robe, “someone from the Order Bureau delivered this by hand this morning, saying it might be helpful for your academy’s entrance assessment today.”
He opened the letter. Two things fell out: a folded copy of the Opus Daily and a formal letter of explanation bearing the steel seal of the Order Bureau.
The front page of the newspaper featured a photograph: a young man with black hair and black eyes lying on a hospital bed with a confused expression. The headline read: “Foreign Youth Heroically Assists Order Bureau in Smashing Cult Stronghold, Another Tale of Success for Opas Public Security.”
The accompanying letter of explanation concisely and powerfully proved that the man in the newspaper was indeed the freshman named Jiang Ming, while briefly describing the special circumstances of his altered appearance due to involvement in a supernatural event.
“Jiang Ming…” Edwin chewed on the name.
He had an impression of it; he had seen it while reviewing the list. A son of a Noble family that had fallen into decline from the fringes of the Holy Moon Empire, with mediocre evaluations. His ability to receive an invitation to the Dome of Knowledge relied entirely on his ancestors’ early donations to the academy. He was a mediocre person who had used some kind of back door.
He had only glanced at it and moved on back then. There were a few people like this every year, and they usually didn’t make much of a splash.
He never imagined that this person, whom he assumed was a legacy student, would be the first to crack the Illusion in such an unfathomable way.
Edwin pinched the newspaper, looking at Jiang Ming’s slightly dazed face in the photo, and then recalled his smooth, efficient operation of sending people to prison on the light screen. A strong sense of absurdity washed over him.
Now the question remained.
How was he supposed to grade this answer sheet?
Edwin looked at the now-empty shack on the light screen, then at Jiang Ming’s harmless face in the newspaper. He felt the assessment system he had built over decades of teaching let out a groan under the unbearable weight.
“Let’s go talk to him, shall we?” Edwin let out a sigh.
—
Jiang Ming woke from the Illusion. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw several teachers in purple robes staring at him fixedly, as if observing some rare animal.
Seeing Jiang Ming wake up, the teachers withdrew their gazes and coughed lightly.
“Is there a problem?” Edwin asked.
“Yes,” Jiang Ming nodded.
“Oh, what problem?” Edwin was very curious. What kind of problem would a person who passed the trial so easily have? Edwin was incredibly curious.
“Where is the cafeteria?” Jiang Ming asked.
Because of a bad habit from his previous life, Jiang Ming had forgotten to eat breakfast again.
—
Elvira broke free from the Illusion.
Her throat felt tight, and her chest felt blocked. The contents of the Illusion had been very unpleasant for her. Fortunately, she eventually accepted her helplessness and, in her capacity as a Judge, vigorously promoted the implementation of relevant systems.
She shook her head and looked up.
On the surrounding benches, the freshmen were still trapped in deep sleep, in various postures with steady breathing.
Elvira scanned the room, her pale face showing no expression, but a very faint, relaxed Glimmer flickered deep within her red eyes.
She should be the first one to finish. This meant she had hope for… the top three in the comprehensive evaluation. The reward of waiving all tuition and fees was not just money to her; it was room to breathe, a tangible resource to buy promotion materials, or at least ensure next month’s meals.
She raised her gaze to the floating, semi-transparent leaderboard flowing with Glimmer at the front of the hall.
Her gaze habitually moved toward the top—
The name at the very top of the list was clearly written: Jiang Ming.
Elvira froze.
A very subtle twitch appeared at the corner of her mouth.
She moved her gaze down to look at the test time noted after the name.
9 minutes and 32 seconds.
She blinked. The numbers were clearly reflected in her red eyes. Then, she slowly moved her gaze to the second line of the leaderboard.
There was her name: Elvira.
The time behind it: 43 minutes and 7 seconds.
Elvira fell silent.
She raised her hand and rubbed her eyes somewhat heavily. She lowered her hand and looked at the leaderboard again.
The numbers hadn’t changed. The ranking hadn’t changed.
Nine and a half minutes.
Forty-three minutes.
She stared at those two side-by-side times for a long time. For the first time, a sort of blank stagnation appeared on that exquisite face that usually showed no expression.
Her red eyes widened slightly, clearly reflecting “9 minutes 32 seconds.” An incomprehensible sense of absurdity rose in her heart.
Several dark purple shadows gathered around her.
It was the professors. Their expressions looked like they had finally found someone they could communicate with normally, carrying a faint sense of relief that “at least there is a standard answer.”
“Student Elvira,” the leading Edwin spoke in a calm tone, “regarding the Illusion test just now, do you have any personal feelings or questions?”
Elvira shook her head, her voice devoid of ups and downs: “No.”
She paused for a moment and raised her finger to point at the light screen floating in the air that displayed the rankings. Her fingertip rested on the name at the top.
“However,” she turned her head, her red eyes looking straight at the professors, “I want to know how Jiang Ming did it?”
The professors’ expressions suddenly became somewhat delicate. They looked at each other; someone raised a hand to rub their nose, while another cleared their throat unnaturally. Edwin’s brow furrowed imperceptibly.
How could they say it? Theoretically, the method was compliant, but it felt like something was wrong. It certainly wasn’t a teaching model that could be promoted as a positive case. If it got out, it might spark a bizarre trend in the academy of studying the Code for loopholes and waiting for others to break the rules first.
This was a magic academy, not a law school.
Finally, Edwin sighed, his voice carrying a hint of helpless vagueness: “Well… this involves a student’s specific coping strategies and falls under the category of personal privacy. It is not convenient for us to disclose the details.”
He glanced at that “9 minutes 32 seconds” on the light screen, then at Elvira’s still-calm red eyes, and added:
“However, he went to the cafeteria about half an hour ago. If you are truly curious, perhaps… you can go ask him yourself.”
After Elvira finished listening, her face remained expressionless, but she gave an extremely slight nod.
“Alright, I understand.”
She stood up and gave the professors a brief, clean salute. Then she turned, her black hair tracing a steady arc as she walked toward the cafeteria without any hesitation.
—
When Elvira walked into the cafeteria, the air was filled with the warm aroma of fat and baked goods. The hall was somewhat empty. She barely had to search before her gaze fell on a seat by the window.
Jiang Ming sat there. A glass of orange juice was placed in front of him, with another full glass beside it. On his plate was a serving of freshly roasted bacon, its edges slightly charred and shining with oil, lying next to two sunny-side-up eggs with yolks so wobbly they looked like they would flow out at a single poke.
The light from the window fell on his profile, outlining a clear silhouette. Black hair, black eyes, and a face that wasn’t exceptionally handsome but was very clean.
Of course, it would have been better if she could ignore the fact that Jiang Ming was currently gnawing on a chicken leg.
Elvira stopped a few steps away. She looked at him, his figure reflected in her red eyes.
She was curious, and curiosity is exactly the beginning of the fall of free will.
She hesitated for two or three seconds.
Finally, she stepped forward, walked toward the table, and sat down quietly in the empty seat opposite Jiang Ming.
Jiang Ming saw Elvira sit down and was momentarily stunned. He even instinctively stopped gnawing on his chicken leg.
But out of instinct, Jiang Ming pushed the untouched glass of orange juice toward her.
This was a habit left over from his professional life in his previous world.
The water in Jiang Ming’s consultation room was always prepared in advance. When someone sits down across from you and you hand them a glass of water, that is the beginning of a conversation.
Elvira was also stunned for a moment as she looked at the orange juice that suddenly appeared in front of her. She raised her eyes to look at Jiang Ming.
“…Thank you.” But she still took the glass, her fingers touching the cold surface.
“You’re welcome.” Jiang Ming waved his hand and picked up his fork again.
He didn’t explain. He couldn’t exactly say he only bought an extra glass because the cafeteria had a “Second Glass at Half price” promotion.
Elvira didn’t drink. She just held the glass and watched Jiang Ming continue to eat his bacon and fried eggs.
In the end, it was Elvira who spoke first.
“How did you do it?” she asked.
Jiang Ming looked up at her with a hint of confusion.
Elvira had no choice but to add: “Nine minutes. That Illusion.”
Jiang Ming understood. He put down his fork. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly remembered something, and the corners of his mouth curved into a very faint arc.
“Student Elvira,” he said, his voice carrying the casual tone of small talk, “What is the fundamental law of Alchemy?”
Elvira looked at him, her red eyes silent.
“Equivalent Exchange,” she answered.
“Correct.” Jiang Ming nodded. “Then, what do you plan to pay to exchange for this answer?”
Elvira didn’t speak; she just waited for him to continue.
“You know about Bards, right?” Jiang Ming put the last piece of bacon into his mouth and chewed slowly. “A group of people who listen to stories everywhere and then spread them.”
Jiang Ming swallowed his food, picked up a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth, and looked up at her.
“I want to hear your story.”