Chapter 317: Time for Exam?!

The morning mist hung heavily over the central plaza of the Abyssal Lotus Pavilion, but the area was already vibrating with a restless, chaotic energy. The early dawn sun cast a sharp, golden glare across the vast, white spiritual marble floor, illuminating a scene of absolute, historic scale.

Thousands of young cultivators, independent scholars, and noble geniuses from every corner of the central province had officially gathered for the grand Stage 1 Written Examination. The air itself felt thick, heavily perfumed with the dense, lingering aroma of boiling herbs and the metallic scent of fresh, high-grade spiritual inks.

The sheer visual layout of the plaza resembled a massive, highly disciplined sea of intellect. Thousands of examinees stood tightly arranged in neat, orderly rows, each meticulously dressed in pristine, scholarly robes that signified their respective clans or academies.

They moved with absolute, refined conduct, their expressions solemn and intensely focused. Laid out upon small, floating wooden desks before them were standard sets of premium examination equipment: heavy jade ink stones, master-grade spirit brushes spun from the fur of celestial foxes, and thick rolls of unblemished parchment paper that hummed with the pavilion’s anti-cheating defensive arrays.

Tony Clark walked through the grand iron gates completely alone, his steps slow, deliberate, and radiating his usual, unbothered nonchalance. He wore his standard crimson-and-black outer disciple robes, his dark hunting cloak draped loosely over his hardened shoulders. The magnificent Void Dragon’s Shadow Bow remained fully hidden beneath the black fabric of his cloak, entirely out of sight from the thousands of gossiping eyes in the plaza.

As Tony looked over the massive sea of floating desks, ink stones, and nervous faces, a rare, slightly nostalgic sigh escaped his lips. His dark eyes glazed over for a brief moment as a sudden wave of memories from his previous life cut through his consciousness.

This looks exactly like the brutal college entrance exams back on modern Earth, Tony thought to himself, a dry, highly amused smile curling the corners of his lips. I spent weeks fighting for my life, conquering a continent, and dealing with a god-like traveler, only to end up sitting in a giant hall holding a pen under a tight clock. I suppose no matter what universe you drop into—whether it is a high-tech modern society or a ruthless world governed by spatial magic—the absolute rules of life never change much. The weak will always sweat over a piece of paper, while the rulers simply use the test to trample over their peers.

With his brief internal reflection complete, Tony’s calculating strategic mind returned to absolute, razor-sharp focus. He strode down the marble aisle, entirely ignoring the intense, whispering murmurs that violently erupted the exact moment his physical figure was recognized by the surrounding crowd.

His viral fame from shattering the Black Fire Academy’s monuments and vaporizing the Vance clan elders had turned him into the single most controversial sensation in the capital, and the young nobles were completely offended by his presence today.

“Look! The country-bumpkin archer has actually dared to show his face!” an arrogant young noble from a middle-tier clan sneered loudly, pointing his finger mockingly at Tony’s cloak. “He thinks that because he possesses a little bit of brute physical muscle, he can decode the ancient, complex runic history of Lady Vivienne’s pavilion! This written exam requires decades of deep, scholarly memorization, not a primitive hunting bow!”

Near the absolute front of the plaza, a massive circle of wealthy applicants was gathered around a luxurious, gold-trimmed canopy where the young masters of the four great powerhouses were sitting in absolute state. Gerald Vance, the arrogant young master of the weapon-forge clan, was casually swirling a cup of expensive spiritual tea, his glittering golden silks reflecting the morning light as he let out a booming laugh.

“Let the country bumpkin enjoy his final minutes of confidence, hidden behind his cloak,” Gerald Vance mocked loudly, making sure his voice carried over the wind to fuel the crowd’s excitement. “The moment the exam arrays activate, his pathetic, unrefined brain will enter a state of total confusion. He will probably drop his brush and weep in front of the live screens before the first hour even hits the mark!”

Right beside him, a group of highly respected, elder-rank master alchemists—popular teachers from various elite inner peak academies—stood gathered in a tight circle. They had descended from their secluded mountain peaks today to offer their personal, absolute support to their prized direct disciples.

These elderly grandmasters were dressed in magnificent, flowing gold-and-black robes, their long white beards trailing down to their belts as their powerful 10th-Class Grand Disciple cultivation pressures lightly rippled across the stones, intentionally building a massive layer of political hype around the event.

“My direct disciple, Lady Scarlet, possesses not only a supreme Vermilion Beast Fire Body, but she has also perfectly memorized the entire three thousand volumes of ancient herbal history!” one of the popular elder masters boasted proudly, his voice echoing smoothly across the stands. “She will easily claim the absolute top spot on the written ledger today, forcing Lady Vivienne to recognize our Royal support faction’s absolute dominance!”

Another elite inner master let out a competitive, cold chuckle, stroking his beard as he pointed toward Kevin from the beast-selling faction. “Do not be so hasty to claim the crown, Old Friend. My disciple has spent three continuous years analyzing the molecular core weight of spiritual beast elements. The written exam will be a flawless walk in the park for his intellect.”

The entire plaza was completely filled with an intoxicating, highly charged atmosphere of absolute competition, noble vanity, and elite posturing. Every single noble house was frantically hyping up their children, and the spectators in the high viewing galleries were throwing down heavy waves of Aura crystals to place massive bets on who would secure the absolute No. 1 position on the grand ledger. The stage was perfectly, beautifully set for a historic clash of intellect.

Tony Clark calmly walked over to his assigned floating desk near the edge of the front line, his lazy posture perfectly restored as he casually slid onto the stone bench. He didn’t pull out any expensive jade ink stones or master-grade brushes; he merely picked up the standard tool provided by the pavilion, his dark eyes locking onto the empty parchment paper with a sharp, predatory intensity that promised a total catastrophe for the entire arrogant-lineage.