Chapter 680: The New Semester Has Begun (14)

Qing’s gaze sweeps over Dan Jo, sharp as a blade.

She does not know the before and after, so it is hard to judge {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} solely by the evil-karma number.

But if you consider this utilitarian figure’s bias toward results over process, it still means he has wrought grave harm in the end.

“One exchange, please.”

Yet the Dan Jo she had watched through the bout was a courteous, well-mannered young man from start to finish.

Mm. An ambiguous one shows up.

Truth is, if she wanted to fail him, she could fail him all day long.

An examiner could exercise the authority of special pass or special fail without limit.

To Qing’s feeling, the examiner’s scope of action seemed a touch omnipotent, but in truth it was very common in the Central Plains.

In the Central Plains, what they call connections and petitions are recognized as the proud, aboveboard ability of an individual that earns the admiration of the crowd.

And that applied both to the one who achieved his goal through connections and petitions and to the one in a position to accept those petitions.

Amazingly, under the state law of the Central Plains such acts are illegal.

To wield granted authority for private sentiments or gain had long been condemned as corrupt and crooked.

Even more amazing, despite that, people of the Central Plains would proudly boast, I happen to know that lord, or I slipped him such-and-such and got this and that done, and thus flaunt their own ability.

Anyway.

If she wanted to fail him, she could.

But... should she?

If the owner of that blood-red evil karma were brazenly committing villainy right before Qing’s eyes?

Then it would be the opening of a Live Demonstration of Human Mysteries—an empirical inquiry into the limits of human durability and its astonishing vitality.

But if he wasn’t up to dog-crap right now?

Then not getting entangled is best.

Strictly speaking, I don’t mind getting tangled with him myself, but he must not get tangled with my friends and acquaintances.

All the same, Qing could not announce that she possessed a very special pair of eyes that turned another’s karma into numbers.

Not because Qing is some weirdo.

In truth, if she felt like revealing it, she could. Roaming around, she’d seen the Central Plains crawling with weirdos; among them, even if there were eyes that saw numbers over people’s heads, so what.

But she must not do that.

Because the numbers Qing sees cannot serve as any absolute standard.

Someone might ask Qing for a number, to judge whether that fellow may be killed or not.

Judgments of that weight are what one must decide for oneself—and bear the consequences.

Telling them would do no good for Qing, nor for her friends or acquaintances.

So Qing sets her brush to the evaluation sheet.

—Something suspicious. Request further inquiry into origins and personal connections.

He seems a bad one, but I can’t be sure.

Besides, the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy is not my property or my alma mater; the Academy should be the one to act, who am I.

If I write it like this, the Alliance will investigate, and if there’s a problem, he’ll be filtered out.

If not?

He’ll enter anyway, so I’ll just keep an eye on him to see if he pulls any nonsense.

“Ohh, as expected of the Heavenly Flower Sword. You offer an opinion apart from the rest. But suspicious, you say—what aspect do you mean?”

Sima Chunbong, who had peeked at Qing’s sheet, immediately showed curiosity.

What the—privacy? Aren’t evaluation sheets supposed to be anonymous? If it’s going to be like this, why bother making them anonymous?

Still, given that you can’t really hide handwriting, it will obviously be Chunbong reading it here with a very high probability, won’t it?

If he’s only seeing early what he’ll see later, well.

Anyway, an answer was a bit hard to muster.

So she could only brazen it out.

“Just...? A suspicious feel? No proper reason, just a kind of suspicious vibe?”

“Indeed! For geniuses like us, a feeling is not merely a feeling. Hm, if it’s the Heavenly Flower Sword’s view, I must not take it lightly, must I? Now that I look, it feels suspicious to me as well. No—let’s say this Sima felt the chill first. There’s no way this Sima would fail to sense what the Heavenly Flower Sword sensed. Hm, yes, that is to say—he looks very ordinary. Too ordinary. How can anyone look that ordinary? Truly, it is most suspicious.”

Is this a contest of Who Can Find the Suspicious Point?

Even so, there’s basic trust underneath—even if that constant genius chatter is a bit much—so it’s a little nice that he nods readily at it being “just a feeling.”

Thus, Day One of the exam ends.

Daylight is set by the sun rather than the civil clock of the Central Plains, so it only grows longer as summer nears.

In fact, it was the same anywhere in this pre-modern age, before humanity overcame night at a low price.

Meaning: the stretch between lunch and dinner was steadily lengthening.

“Ugh, I’m hungry.”

RIGHT ON CUE—GRRROWWL—the empty belly protests noisily that it’s already late.

Recalling Qing’s lunch—the sort of portion that seemed to test the limits of the human body—Sima Chunbong murmured quietly to himself, Hm, just what is that stomach made of.

But Qing can’t help it either.

The Heart-Delighting Pellet, a present from Little Lady, grants overflowing vitality while preserving capacity for even more meals—it is, truly, a martial art with nothing but advantages.

It adds about one more meal to the day’s limited resource of “how much you can eat”!

To be able to eat one more meal a day—surely a supreme divine art no one would expect to be marked with a red border.

“Chunbong, you’re going to eat too, right? Mmm, what should we have? Maybe because we mentioned it earlier, I’m really craving Xi Shi’s Milk. If I ask, will they make it?”

“Heavenly Flower Sword? To whom are you speaking?”

Xi Shi’s Milk refers to sashimi sliced from the ovaries of the rarest blowfish, the yellow puffer.

White and tender—there’s nothing richer or tastier under heaven, hence the name Xi Shi’s Milk, after Xi Shi’s breast.

A naming choice enough to make even Xi Shi grit her teeth.

Though, the namer might plead injustice.

Xi Shi was seduction incarnate—she truly led the King of Wu into pleasure and brought down Wu. (Diaochan is pure invention by Luo Guanzhong and did not exist; she’s Xi Shi’s reflected double.)

Thus the most beautiful woman in history was also a deadly poison that ruins a nation.

So the tastiest part of a poisonous puffer is the tastiest—

Correction. He has no right to plead injustice.

“Come on, let’s go eat. My belly skin and back skin are about to hold the meeting of the century.”

“Ahem, Heavenly Flower Sword. For superhumans like us—like Xiang Yu on a lone horse, the one-against-ten-thousand sort—there are duties to match. When a mere soldier takes one foe, we superhumans on a red-blood horse must take ten thousand to qualify to look after those base mediocrities.”

“The crap is getting thicker. Still, it’s entertaining, so keep going.”

“‘Crap,’ you say! No—no. Heh. Heavenly Flower Sword, you always try to shake this Sima and draw out openings, don’t you? But I have already seen through it! To this Sima, who has ever lived under the envy and jealousy of mediocrities, such ploys do not work.”

“Enough. What’s the conclusion? Are you eating or not?”

“As is the way of strategists, our work begins now. If we don’t sort these sheets and reach conclusions today, the results of this constantly continuing first round will recede without end.”

“Ah. You mean we have to go to work......”

Qing muttered with a regretful face.

Indeed, among the examiners, the brainy types from the Strategists’ Hall all wore sour looks.

Because the paperwork starts now.

“Chunbong, you go eat.”

“Chunbong, you have to eat with a friend, no—no, you should try eating with a friend.”

“Chunbong. You’ve been singing, ‘When will the Heavenly Flower Sword arrive,’ and now the longed-for one has come—go on, feed each other something sweet in private.”

“Wh-who was singing, and how many times must this Sima say not to toss about this Sima’s name so carelessly...!”

Mm. He has no friends either. Not surprising in the least, honestly. I had already assumed as much.

Why do friendless types gather around me like this?

I mean, yes, I am the savior of friendless kids and dispense fearsome good deeds in the form of friendship, but—ah, is that why?

“Come on, a single dinner won’t make the sheets run away. We all do this to eat and live. Eat first, then do it.”

“No. Without me, these common fellows won’t finish on time even if they stay up all night. Add them all together and they amount to half of this Sima—so if I leave my post, it would be severe dereliction.”

The faces of the listening common staff curdled even further.

Crude the words may be, but the intent still comes down to helping the Strategists’ Hall family with their work.

For all that the kid is a bit odd—no, very odd—his store of good-karma is high; perhaps slow-witted, but the heart itself is gentle—

“Heavenly Flower Sword? I know it’s a rotten thing to ask, but could you get rid of that? He does exactly his share, then sets up a tea table in front of the duty crew to loaf and gorge. He insists on munching bamboo-leaf rice balls after racing to finish early, and—sorry for the phrasing—but there’s no term other than ‘that crap’ for the crap he pulls right in front of people still working. There is no face more hateful.”

“Hmph. That still doesn’t erase the fact that this Sima handles more than triple your paperwork.”

“L-look at that. No matter what you say, he just doesn’t hear anything that sounds like an insult.”

A strategist let out a deep sigh.

Qing paused to arrange the statements, wondering what this was about.

“Oh, so in other words—he rushes to finish and then, very deliberately in front of others—specifically in front of those still working—plans to lounge around and skip dinner? Of course, since he handles more volume than others, no one can say anything, which makes him even more of an eyesore?”

“Precisely.”

“Mm. The more I learn, the more astonishing.”

“For us as well, every day is a chain of astonishments.”

The strategists nodded gravely.

Qing caught Sima Chunbong by the wrist.

“Come on, let’s go eat dinner. You should eat when it’s time. Eating while working is no good.”

“Goodness, did you not understand me? Heavenly Flower Sword, for those like us—”

“Enough.”

Qing yanked Sima Chunbong’s slender wrist.

True to a brainy type, he was miserably weak—so weak it was embarrassing to even call him a martial artist—so how could he resist that miraculous brute strength that turns Xiang Yu into the Southern Heavenly Flower Sword.

As Sima Chunbong’s torso slid into Qing’s arms, she spun him half a turn and then clasped his waist tight with both arms.

Subjugation complete. Weak point targeted.

“Heavenly Flower Sword? What— KYAAK, KKHAT, KIIYAT-HAT! MMF— KHRRT!”

Qing simply kept her arms wrapped around his waist and kneaded his flank with little pinches.

Ordinarily you wrap the opponent’s arms along with the waist to immobilize them completely—but.

Experience had taught Qing that even if she let his arms free, he would only clamp his own mouth and not flail.

In another sense, it was a bit absurd.

Is there any reason to stifle his voice so desperately? Judging by today’s conduct alone, he’s already publicly unhinged. Hasn’t he tossed away face and all that?

“Do you want to go eat? Or keep having fun.”

“MMF— not— HUFF— fun— HUUU— MM— HUU— but this Sima will— MMF— never— KEEK— KKH— PFFAAK— KYAH—”

Prodding and kneading at Sima Chunbong’s weak spots as he thrashed in her arms like a fish just hauled from the water, Qing thought:

What is this springiness, this hit-feedback?

And his stubbornness—so damned strong—that refusal to yield made him, as they say, irresistibly begging for more smacks.

With Sima Chunbong still restrained, Qing hoisted him up and descended from the stands.

Though Sima Chunbong was taller—about a finger-joint shorter than Qing in the hands (while a bit taller sitting)—at Qing’s level of strength and stamina, this much weight didn’t even register.

Below threshold, or call it below the limit.

Hoist a sack of rice and your heart soon hammers and your breath grows short; sling an empty basket and there’s no consumption of strength or stamina at all—the same principle.

“Huff— Heavenly Flower Sword? I—I bear the duty of our age to process these sheets— KYAAAK! Stop— EEEK.”

“Huuu— Heavenly Flower Sword, you may— lead a— horse— to water— but you— cannot make it— DRINK—!”

“Heavenly Flower Sword— Hah— hah— I will— never— to this— HUFF— HAH— HUUU— HAH— oppression—submit— MMF—!”

Sima Chunbong’s will was no less iron.

Each time nonsense came out, Qing jabbed his flank to draw a great spasm and a shrill cry as she marched toward the banquet hall.