The arena hummed with quiet anticipation as the Status Seer scanned student after student. Numbers floated above their heads like spectral halos, each one a cold, unyielding measure of potential. Some soared past 800, dazzling the audience with impossible strength; others barely scraped past the minimum, their expressions tight with frustration.
Shen Liang stepped forward, expecting the familiar reading. But as the device pulsed and calculated, his brow furrowed.
"Estimated Power: 245"
He blinked, startled. The minimum required to pass was 250. His previous intelligence on the system—the source planted in the Hua family—had been removed, and now the Status Seer told a different story.
"245…" he muttered under his breath. "Not enough. Figures."
He glanced around the arena. Some students gasped at their scores, others whispered in fear or disbelief. Scores of 300, 400, even 600 floated above the heads of the more experienced students. A few, shockingly, touched near 900. And here he was, one of the lowest among those currently scanned.
The so-called White Crystal Flower, seated nearby, raised an eyebrow. Even for her, such numbers would be a surprise.
Shen Liang didn't panic. A calm, calculating smirk formed on his lips. Numbers are just numbers. Coins, skills, and strategy can rewrite anything.
He raised his hand and accessed his personal System interface. A menu of skill books, passive buffs, and temporary enhancements appeared, gleaming with possibility.
Balance: 356,002,500,000 Coins(Business revenue today: +2,500,000 Coins)
A few taps later, Shen Liang had selected a set of immediate enhancements:
Tactical Analysis (Passive) – enhances strategic thinking and calculation speed.
Basic Sword Techniques (Book) – instant mastery for future encounters.
Spatial Awareness Buff (Passive) – heightens reflexes and perception.
Coins transferred instantly. The System confirmed:
"Power Score Adjusted: 275"
The display also showed his remaining balance: 355,999,995,000 Coins. Still an astronomical fortune, more than enough to purchase any further advantage if needed.
Shen Liang leaned back slightly, eyes sweeping the arena. Other students continued to stream past the Status Seer. The crowd murmured in awe as prodigies revealed scores well above 700. Some competitors glanced at their peers nervously, knowing that only those worthy would make it to the final round.
Meanwhile, Shen Liang's crimson eyes flicked toward the White Crystal Flower. Her calm, icy exterior had cracked just slightly in the wake of his presence. Interesting, he thought. She isn't impressed by numbers—she's looking for more.
Minutes passed, scores flashed, and the final group of participants began to form. Many of the highest scorers were clearly confident, exchanging smirks and whispers. Shen Liang, now adjusted and prepared, appeared deceptively unassuming among the lower-ranked group. Only a few would notice the subtle aura shift—the quiet, invisible edge that money and intellect could buy.
The Status Seer's final chime rang, signaling that all preliminary scans were complete. Shen Liang exhaled softly, a calculated patience settling over him. He had not only passed but had done so without drawing undue attention.
"Next," the interface called.
With the arena watching and the trials about to begin, Shen Liang stepped forward. His mind already calculated the odds, his purchases in place, his strategy set. The Guardian Selection had begun in earnest—and the blonde-haired boy with piercing red eyes was ready to bend the rules of the game without anyone realizing it.
Around him, the crowd's murmurs rose in anticipation. Some students exchanged nervous glances, aware that even a low-ranked participant could change everything. The banners above fluttered in the warm afternoon breeze, emblazoned with the sigils of families, clans, and renowned pillars of the academy. The faint hum of Systemic Ether filled the arena, a subtle reminder that every move, every decision, every slight advantage could tip the scales.
Shen Liang's gaze lingered on Ruyan for a fraction of a heartbeat. She was watching intently, silver-white eyes sharp and discerning. Perfect, he thought. Let them underestimate me. Let them assume a weak number means a weak opponent.
He adjusted his posture, calm, collected, yet ready to strike when the moment came. The first match would begin soon—and by its end, the arena would know that numbers alone could never define a true master.