Having finished writing, Michel tore the sheet from his journal, sealed it within an envelope, and pressed the bell upon his desk. At once a trusted warrior of the Icon Procession entered. Michel instructed coldly:
"Before sunrise tomorrow, I want this confidential letter placed in the hands of the Tribunal's lords. Do you understand?"
Exhaling slowly, he leaned back. Though the message had been phrased as a request, Michel was certain his authority guaranteed approval. The Tribunal would surely entrust Robert's evaluation to him. Thus, the trial could begin without delay.
"Wait. On your way out, summon Donald. I have matters of importance to discuss with him."
Before long, Dean Donald entered with a servile air, half obsequious, half fearful. He hurried to Michel's side, pouring him a refreshing drink with both hands.
"Most esteemed Lord Michel, what commands have you for me?"
Michel cast him a sidelong glance, voice sharp as a blade.
"Donald, you incompetent fool—you must be punished!"
Donald froze in shock. Could it be that Michel has discovered I altered Robert's records? Or that I allowed him to idle away six years in the academy? Impossible! I smoothed over every trace—no one could know. Then… for what reason does Lord Michel condemn me?
Confounded, he dared not speak in his own defense, only lowering his head meekly.
Michel's expression softened into a smile.
"Robert is no mere prodigy—he is a peerless anomaly, a child of Innate Grace. And yet you failed to perceive it. Should that not be punished?"
"Innate Grace?" Donald's heart gave a violent lurch, at once terrified and elated. Hastily he stammered, "This servant is worthless—worthless indeed. Only your lordship's discerning eyes could unveil Robert's true gift…"
"Silence. Spare me your flattery." Michel frowned. "Robert's talent is unique beneath the heavens. A genius of his stature must not be squandered. Donald, have you prepared a training plan for him?"
From the shelves Donald produced a document and handed it over with trembling hands.
"This plan was drafted jointly by myself and seventeen senior professors. Our goal was to elevate Robert within a year… ah, but since he bears Innate Grace, his cultivation should advance far swifter. My lord, I propose he be raised within half a year to—"
"Half a year?"
Michel cut him short, his voice cold.
"No. Three months hence begins the Yalan Selection Tournament, contested by a hundred academies of the Thirteen Empires. Donald, I require that in three months' time, Robert possess the strength to triumph in that contest."
Donald gasped.
"My lord, even with Innate Grace, he cannot possibly surpass competitors who have trained diligently for over a decade!"
"That is your concern. You have three months."
Michel raised a finger, his tone laced with threat.
"If Robert emerges victorious, you shall be richly rewarded. But if you fail to shape him into a champion… hmph."
The unspoken menace chilled Donald more than any explicit decree. He dared not meet Michel's piercing gaze. Bowing deeply, he forced a bitter smile and withdrew.
Watching him slink away, Michel smiled faintly.
"To forge in three months what others achieve in ten years—such is the barest threshold for that plan. Robert, your trial has already begun. I have given you the chance to ascend in a single bound—whether you seize it lies with you alone."
…
No sooner had Donald returned to his office than he summoned several loyal professors. Upon hearing Michel's mandate, they gaped in disbelief, crying out as one: "Impossible!"
Donald sighed.
"My friends, I know full well this task borders on the impossible. Yet Lord Michel has decreed it—we must obey."
"Alas, the weight of rank crushes us. And Michel outranks us by far… Dean, what shall we do?"
"What else?" Donald replied grimly. "From this moment, the Vice Dean will handle academy affairs. I myself shall lead Robert's instruction. Also—has the roster of students for the Yalan Tournament been finalized?"
One professor answered, "Yes. Our academy's top student, Eddie Haus, has been named captain."
Donald's brow furrowed.
"Change it. Robert shall be captain."
"But Dean, by custom the captain is always the first-ranked student. Haus has held that place for years. If we deny him now, his temper—"
"You still do not see? Lord Michel has placed Robert under his wing. The academy must follow his will—Robert must not only compete, but lead. As for Haus…"
Donald paused, then his tone hardened.
"When the roster is announced, grant Haus generous scholarships as appeasement. If he accepts, all is well. If he dares to rebel—warn him. Should he persist, strip him of his place entirely."
The professors exchanged uneasy looks but voiced no objection. Haus was a devotee of the Fire God, a vassal beneath Yalan. By the hierarchy of the continent, a child of Yalan always stood above one of the Fire God. Moreover, Robert was a noble son, heir to Lord Luo of Moonwatch City, with Michel's patronage at his back. And Haus? A common-born wretch, blessed by chance alone.
Seeing their silence, Donald struck the table decisively.
"Then it is settled. From tomorrow, the academy's entire strength will be devoted to Robert's training!"
A single whim of the mighty is a revolution for the lowly—so said one of the classic maxims recorded among the shared messages from that azure planet.
Leaving the academy gates with his father, Robert parted ways with Luo Xiong, who must prepare at once to march again into the perilous Xingluo Mountains.
With a weary smile Luo Xiong said,
"Your father is soon to depart with tens of thousands in a campaign of toil and danger. For a long while, I shall be unable to aid you in securing the crystal diamond, or in restoring Yal's strength…"