On the Mana Competition field.
In Purple Cloud High's section, sweat beaded thick across Yue Mulan's forehead. She had just finished her fourth mana oscillation, the wad of mana ground under her control now a pale, drifting haze in her dantian, harder and harder to master. "Three more. Just three more."
Nearby, Song Hailong's breathing grew heavy as a vast tide of mana coiled out of his dantian into a whirlpool. "The final oscillation. Of course, in the end, I win." Then a rumble rolled in from far off, and his face went taut. Someone had beaten him? And then, worse: "Two people. Two finished before me?"
In the distance, Xiong Bufan pressed his palms together, wisps of cloud-like mana pooling in his claws — a lively cloud that began to disperse at once, impossible to hold. He ignored it, turning instead toward the source of the roar. "Only a step ahead of me? White Dragon's, or Purple Cloud's?" Watching a pillar of white qi shoot skyward and hold without scattering, surprise crept over him. "It's just a competition! Everyone's chasing speed. Why'd this guy polish his Body-Protecting Vital Qi so hard?" "Total show-off."
Over at Songyang High's section, Zhang Yu spread his palms and gouts of white air streamed upward like beacon smoke, drawing more and more eyes. Having run the Boundless Cloud Hand at top speed like a cram, and — of course — failed to forge a single thread of true Qi through it, Zhang Yu nonetheless felt he already knew the technique cold. The moment thought moved, qi followed, and mana completed seven oscillations in a row before pouring from his palms as surging protective Qi.
Teacher Yan clenched her fist in excitement, then whipped out her phone and fired off a burst of photos. *His talent for mana control is this remarkable? No wonder his breathing efficiency climbed so high.* Across the way, Bai Zhenzhen watched with a moved air. "The child has grown up."
Moments later, round three's scores surfaced: Xiong Bufan first, Zhang Yu second, Song Hailong third, Yue Mulan squeezed into fourth. As the total leaderboard came out, every gaze skipped the top three and fixed instead on fourth.
First: Song Hailong of White Dragon, 290. Second: Yue Mulan of Purple Cloud, 287. Third: Xiong Bufan of Red Tower, 285. The three great schools still swept the podium. But the fourth name broke the pattern like a rent torn through a bank of clouds.
Fourth: Zhang Yu of Songyang, 273. Songyang was a key school, yet ringed on every side by the three great schools' names, Zhang Yu's felt jarringly out of place.
"Fourth place... how much is the prize money again?" The corner of Zhang Yu's mouth curled as he already began counting. He trusted he'd overtake these rivals one day, but true strength right now genuinely still trailed the three schools' aces. It had taken Ah Zhen's divine luck, the Feather Book's filial devotion — and, most of all, his own stubborn persistence — to squeeze into fourth.
Qian Shen glared at Zhang Yu, remembering perfectly that his monthly exam score was a measly 620 — six below Qian's own. Yet this 620-point existence was ranking beside those 650-plus high-caste, ultimate monsters of the three great schools? "Again... just like the art exhibition. He always performs far beyond what his score says." Head clutched, he gasped on. "As if a six-subject, 700-point system can no longer express the extent of his evolution. This man may one day spark another reform of the whole evaluation system."
Just behind him, He Dayou shot the muttering Qian Shen a glance — *what's this fool raving about now?* — then turned toward Zhang Yu, unable to contain a surge of envy and jealousy. All of it coming from a poor man, the very kind he could least stand. A flicker of pity even rose. "In the end he's just a poor wretch." "And good thing too."
...
In Purple Cloud's rest area, the competition coach studied Yue Mulan and Lian Tianji. "What do you all think of poaching this Zhang Yu?" Lian Tianji nodded. "He may not have our Purple Cloud bloodline, but he really does perform. I'd bring him over." That so-called bloodline was a pecking order inside Purple Cloud: the more Purple Cloud credentials you held — from its nursery up through its middle school — the more "pure" you were. Yue Mulan asked, "Where were his schools?" Lian Tianji named them. A barely suppressed sneer crossed her face — the poor-man stink of those two schools was too thick. Seeing it, Lian Tianji knew it was over. *Then the next time I meet Zhang Yu, it'll probably be to settle it at the martial competition.* A thread of anticipation rose.
...
Outside the restroom, Zhang Yu nearly walked into a man blocking his path — Han Xingye, White Dragon's competition coach. "Zhang Yu, come to White Dragon." He stretched out a hand. "A talent like yours is wasted at Songyang. You did well here, but the gap will only widen." He was telling the truth. Though most of Songyang City's best students were carved up by the three great schools, a few always slipped through to other schools over time. "Come to White Dragon and I'll get you a good contract."
Zhang Yu asked abruptly, "If I go, can I get into the Top Ten?" Han Xingye froze. The honest answer was no. At White Dragon, Zhang Yu would become mere investment bait. Poaching him was precisely to keep him out of the rest of first year's competitions — those exam and interview achievements were gold-plating for the rich, not for a poor man to hog. He'd get into a good university someday, sure, but never one of the Top Ten. Those spots were never meant for the poor.
Just then Teacher Yan stepped in front of Zhang Yu, eyeing Han Xingye warily. "Teacher Han, what are you saying to my student?" Rich or poor, to her a ranked student was her teaching achievement. Han Xingye gave a helpless laugh, embarrassed at being caught poaching. "Either way, better than staying at Songyang High... you know, the, uh..." Teacher Yan flared up. Don't think I can't guess your insults for Songyang! But mindful of the gap between the two schools, she cut him off and ushered her student away. Watching them go, Han Xingye shrugged. *If he's truly clear-headed, he'll choose this side. Even if he can't crack the Top Ten.*
...
"Did you see it?" Bai Zhenzhen's voice crackled through the link. "Fourth place! Zhang Yu took fourth overall! So how much are you putting in?" Mo Tianyi sighed. "Zhenzhen, I can see it." "Then send the money! Even your Boss wasn't this good in first year, was he?" "The Boss has taken ranks before..." After their tug-of-war, Mo Tianyi conceded that Zhang Yu's results were outstanding and promised to push for more investment. Ending the call, he looked at the fourth-place name and felt his long-cooled chest warm. *Well done — breaking through all that rich-boy pressure to climb here. Too bad. Too late. If only this were two years earlier, I'd have picked you.* On the other end, Bai Zhenzhen mused, *A martial-competition rank? Let me see just which one you are.*