Chapter 318: Need More Papers?!

The grand spiritual bells of the Abyssal Lotus Pavilion boomed a final time, and the colossal white marble plaza plunged into an absolute, suffocating silence [INDEX]. At that exact millisecond, the ancient anti-cheating defensive arrays built into the floating wooden desks violently hummed, releasing a thin, translucent barrier of silver light around each individual applicant.

The examination rolls automatically unfurled, revealing hundreds of highly complex, archaic runic questions regarding the hidden molecular weight of spiritual plants and the deep cosmic histories of the upper universe.

Almost immediately, the sound of thousands of scratching spirit brushes echoed off the sandalwood pillars like a swarm of frantic locusts. Within the first fifteen minutes, the previous arrogant smiles on the faces of the young noble masters completely dissolved into masks of sheer agony.

Gerald Vance’s forehead was already drenched in a thick layer of cold sweat, his hand trembling as he stared at a question regarding the core thermal calculations of a low-grade fire beast element. Even Lady Scarlet, despite her supreme Vermilion Beast Fire Body, was frowning deeply, her brush pausing for long seconds as she frantically racked her brain to recall the ancient volume of herbal histories she had supposedly memorized.

Tony Clark sat at his edge desk, his posture perfectly lazy, his dark hunting cloak draped loosely over his shoulders. A slow, ruthlessly brilliant smirk curled the corners of his lips as his active Truth Eye swept over the parchment. To his system-boosted mind, which possessed 100% synchronization with the Primordial Alchemy Art, the archaic questions were nothing more than simple, baseline math.

His hand moved with an absolute, fluid momentum that completely defied the standard human limits. His silver-tipped spirit brush danced across the paper like a flash of lightning, the ink flowing in thick, beautiful strokes as he began detailing every single answer with a terrifying, flawless precision. He didn’t just write the standard baseline answers; his strategic mind poured down deep, hidden alchemical theories from previous eras, filling the columns at a speed that quickly exhausted the margins of his initial paper.

“Examiner,” Tony’s deep baritone voice suddenly sliced through the quiet atmosphere of the hall, calling out smoothly as he raised a single, careless hand. “I need more sheets. Bring me a larger bundle immediately.”

The nearby proctor handling the front row was a sharp-eyed senior female disciple of the pavilion. Hearing his sudden demand, she stepped forward with heavy, deeply doubtful steps, her brow furrowing with a mix of suspicion and condescending amusement. Like everyone else in the city, she had read the viral martial network posts about the “arrogant archer country bumpkin” who had registered for the exam on a whim.

“Young Master Tony, the written exam has barely passed the thirty-minute mark,” she spoke softly, her tone dripping with passive-aggressive skepticism. “An apprentice applicant is supposed to keep their summaries concise. If you are simply writing down random, incoherent trash or fake runic lines to waste our pavilion’s premium spiritual paper, the penalty will be an immediate, absolute disqualification from—”

Her voice completely caught in her throat, her words vanishing into thin air as she reached his floating desk and looked down at his parchment. Her wide violet eyes violently bulged, a cold sweat breaking out across her back as she witnessed his free-flowing calligraphy.

The ink was completely immaculate, carrying an elite, scholar-like aesthetic that looked more like an ancient master-grade painting than a teenager’s test script. The characters were so perfectly balanced, so majestic and full of internal spiritual grace, that her own alchemical sea faintly hummed in response to the deep, undeniable logic written inside the text.

A sudden, unexpected shift in her demeanor occurred. Realising this country bumpkin was actually a terrifyingly deep hidden genius, a cheeky, highly amused smile spread across her beautiful face. She reached into her spatial ornament, pulled out a massive, thick bundle of premium spiritual parchment, and slammed it onto his desk with a heavy thud.

She looked directly into Tony’s dark eyes, giving him a playful, enthusiastic thumbs-up alongside a mischievous, cheeky wink, as if silently cheering him on to completely break the pavilion’s historical records.

Tony blinked his eyes for a brief moment, his dark irises showing a rare, completely confused look under his cloak as he stared at her sudden, animated reaction. What in the absolute world is wrong with the women in this capital city? Tony thought to himself, a helpless, amused smile curling his lips. He shook his head slightly, entirely unbothered by her playful gesture, and casually dipped his brush back into the jade ink stone, continuing to write out every single question in absolute, exhaustive detail, filling page after page with deep cosmic calculations.

High above the chaotic plaza, standing near the arched balcony of the pavilion’s absolute highest tower, Lady Vivienne Vane stood silently watching the grand hall through a high-grade spiritual viewing mirror. Her elegant, breathtakingly beautiful face was a mask of cold, eccentric majesty as she swirled a small jade vial of premium elemental medicine. Her violet eyes had secretly been locked onto Tony’s unhurried, lazy figure from the very moment he entered the gates. Her sharp alchemical perception easily caught the unique, fluid cadence of his movements.

“A highly interesting and bizarre junior,” Lady Vivienne murmured softly to herself, her silky voice carrying a trace of cold condescension as she watched him receive the massive bundle of extra paper.

“He moves with the absolute certainty of a supreme scholar, yet his brush is running far too fast. An alchemy exam requires precise, absolute compression of facts. He is currently writing long, massive descriptions that exceed the parameters of the questions. He must be filling those sheets with verbose, useless trash simply to display his stamina. There is absolutely no need for such dramatic length.”

She shook her head slightly, assuming Tony was just another arrogant youth trying to catch her attention through an eccentric display, entirely unaware that every single line he wrote was a multi-world-changing ancient formula.

Down on the deck, Tony had finally reached the absolute final question of the examination roll. The question was a single, massive open-ended prompt that had stumped thousands of generations of outer applicants: “What is the absolute definition and true nature of Alchemy?”

Tony casually set down his standard brush, a wide, deeply villainous grin spreading across his face as his mind registered the opportunity to execute a total public commotion. Instead of writing down a standard, boring paragraph about elemental combination, medicine brewing, or meridian refinement, Tony channeled a thin strand of his shadow-and-wind attribute energy directly into his pen tip.

Moving with the flawless grace of a true supreme scholar from the ancient eras, he wrote a magnificent, rhythmic poem that completely redefined the absolute nature of the craft, detailing how alchemy was not a tool to serve the mortal empire, but an absolute weapon of creation used by a true villain to trample over the cosmic laws of heaven and force the stars to bend to his specific will. The words carried a sharp, predatory resonance that vibrated with absolute, chilling majesty.

Tony stood up from his floating desk, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the marble floor as he became the absolute first person in the entire plaza to finish the exam. He gathered the massive, thick bundle of completed parchment paper, walked straight to the main proctor’s altar, and handed it over with his head held high, his lazy posture perfectly intact.

The moment his boots crossed the boundary lines of the light barrier to head toward the exit, a massive wave of mocking snickers, cruel whispers, and sarcastic chuckles erupted from the sidelines where the Vance clan lackeys were sitting.

“Haha! Look at that country bumpkin archer!” Gerald Vance jeered in a low whisper, his face tight with intense jealousy. “He spent thirty minutes scribbling nonsense and now he is fleeing the hall because his unrefined brain couldn’t handle the upper questions! He is coming out early because he has completely given up!”

Tony completely ignored their childish barking, not even bothering to waste a single microsecond looking back at their pale, sweating faces. He strode straight out of the grand iron gates of the Abyssal Lotus Pavilion, his dark hunting cloak billowing in the soft mountain wind as he stepped back into the outer plaza.

Outside the gates, a massive crowd of thousands of spectators, rogue cultivators, and popular elder-rank masters was still standing gathered in a tight circle, waiting for the results to be displayed on the grand ledger screen. Seeing a single teenager casually walking out of the gates so incredibly early, the popular elders merely let out a series of cold, condescending chuckles, completely discounting his presence.

“An outer disciple from the country branches,” one of the gold-robed inner peak masters mocked softly, stroking his long white beard with an immense layer of pride as he turned his back on Tony’s shadow.

“He couldn’t even survive the first hour of Lady Vivienne’s written trial. A useless commoner will always remain commoner; he is already out of the game before the real fire selection can even begin.”

They thought little about Tony as he walked past them with his hands in his pockets, entirely blind to the massive, thick bundle of paper he had just left behind.