The Scorn of the Elite
The four had just completed their understated, yet profoundly significant, internal introduction when a burst of undisguised sneering erupted from nearby.
A different squad, who looked noticeably more affluent and impeccably dressed, had just emerged from another corner of the Illusion Array light. Their leader, a blade master named Wei Ming with a spirit-jade encrusted saber at his waist, stood with his arms crossed, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. "Well, well, well. Isn't this the 'genius' squad of Dragon's Zenith this year! Three of you barely managed to drag that Iron Sentinel trial through, all while carrying a… hmm, a 'master' from the Scrying Institute to coast along. Tough break, champions!" He deliberately emphasized the word 'master' to convey maximum contempt.
A skinny member beside him immediately chimed in, his voice whiny and sharp. "Exactly! I bet that Scryer kid was too terrified to move a muscle in there, wasn't he? Cowering behind his teammates the whole time? Some people have all the luck!"
Another teammate added, dripping with condescension. "A weakling should just own up to coasting. It's not the coasting that's shameful; it's pretending to be indifferent after you just barely survived on your teammates' sweat and blood."
The mockery was brutal and direct. Li Shulai's brow instantly knotted, and his hand flew to his sword hilt, his temper flaring. "What did you say? Looking for a fight?!"
He Lingxuan's eyes turned glacial, and faint, wispy auras of potent toxins began to circulate around her. Chen Ruipeng remained silent, but his large hands gripping the axe handle behind his back were white-knuckled.
Wei Ming took a challenging step forward, his expensive saber catching the light. He glanced at the wrist marks indicating their mandatory ten-point deduction from the Headmaster's penalty. "Fight? Why bother with you peasants? Let's talk points. Our squad, The Swift Blades, finished with a perfect score. If you truly believe in your 'commander' here, let's make a bet on the next mission. We'll take five of the Blooms, you take five. Loser's squad forfeits twenty Contribution Points to the winner. How about it, champions? Put your money where your mouth is."
The audacity was astounding. Twenty points was a significant sum for freshmen. Li Shulai was about to accept the reckless challenge, fueled by pride.
Yet, Lin Yan, the center of the storm, appeared utterly deaf to the insults and the challenge. He slowly turned his head and calmly looked at the scornful squad. His gaze lingered on the arrogant swordsman for less than a second—his eyes placid and deep, devoid of the anger one might expect from being humiliated, and equally devoid of the urgency to defend himself. It was as if the "useless weakling" they were mocking had nothing to do with him.
He offered no retort. Instead, he simply turned his head back, like he was dismissing an utterly irrelevant distraction, and continued gently pressing the cotton handkerchief beneath his nose.
That complete, icy indifference was more cutting than any verbal attack. The confident smirk on the blade master's face froze, then became ugly and frustrated. He felt like he had punched a heavy bag only to find it was made of air, leaving him stifled and angry.
"Hmph. Just posturing. Trash is trash!" The blade master spat disdainfully, trying to save face. But finding it tedious to argue with someone who had "totally checked out," he dragged his squad away, still muttering curses under his breath.
"Lin Yan, they were talking about you like that. You seriously don't get angry?" Li Shulai withdrew his hand from his sword, still seething.
Lin Yan lowered the handkerchief, confirming the bleeding had stopped. He folded the cloth neatly and tucked it away. "A mad dog barking at the sun wastes only its own breath. Why engage them?" He then leaned in, lowering his voice so only the four could hear. "Besides, that man has a nexus of misfortune forming between his brows, and a faint crimson mark over his fate palace. He's likely to encounter some unpleasant physical injury today. Let him find his own fortune."
He Lingxuan glanced thoughtfully at the retreating blade master. Chen Ruipeng's lips twitched slightly. Li Shulai paused, then broke into a wide grin, his anger instantly dissolving, replaced by a spark of gleeful anticipation.
The Immediate Verdict
As if on cue, a sudden commotion erupted just a dozen yards away near the main entrance portal. Wei Ming, the arrogant blade master, had bumped into a senior student carrying a massive, heavy wooden crate filled with spirit stones. The senior student, clearly an elite Martial Arts disciple, didn't even slow down. The momentum was enough to send Wei Ming sprawling, the sharp corner of the crate scraping painfully across the blade master's ornamented belt and drawing a thin line of blood across his cheekbone!
Wei Ming scrambled up, clutching his bleeding face, utterly humiliated and furious. The senior student glanced back with cold disdain and walked on.
"Did you… did you see that?" Li Shulai breathed, his eyes wide. The scratch on the cheekbone was exactly the "unpleasant physical injury." Li Shulai looked at Lin Yan with a mix of awe and fresh terror. This was more than insight; this was precognition.
The First Mission
Just then, the deep, steady voice of Vice Headmaster Feng Xingyun (风行云) boomed across the hall, instantly overriding all the surrounding chatter and gossip:
"The Illusion Trial is concluded. Those who endured are officially initiated into the gates of Dragon's Zenith Academy."
"Next, we issue your squad's very first practical assignment: proceed to the Cloudmist Marsh, a hundred miles east of the Academy. You are to collect five stalks of the Fog-Shrouded Bloom. Time limit: six hours!"
"The mission rewards: each successful squad will receive ten Contribution Points per Bloom collected! And based on completion efficiency and time taken, additional evaluation bonuses will be awarded!"
The first field assignment! And the rewards were the tangible Contribution Points vital for graduation!
The hall erupted in fervent discussion and the sound of students flexing their muscles. The four-thousand-point graduation benchmark hung like a sword over their heads; every mission was crucial.
Li Shulai's eyes ignited with fierce competitive spirit. He straightened his back, a natural air of leadership emerging. "Cloudmist Marsh? Sounds like trouble, which means points! Brothers and sisters, we are absolutely securing this first payday!"
He Lingxuan had already pulled up her crystal card again. Her fingers flew, swiftly scrolling through detailed intelligence on the Cloudmist Marsh environment, potential risks, and the morphology and habitat of the Fog-Shrouded Bloom. She was efficiently stockpiling information for the mission ahead.
"Wait," Lin Yan interjected softly, though his gaze was focused and intense. "He Lingxuan, summarize the key environmental risks of the Marsh, quickly."
He Lingxuan stopped scrolling immediately, launching into a rapid-fire summary. "Primary risks: highly corrosive water, debilitating spiritual confusion from the mist, and the Blood-Scale Python—a predator known for venom and ambush tactics."
"Good." Lin Yan nodded. "Our formation is already set. Li Shulai, you lead. Maintain a fast but cautious pace. Chen Ruipeng, watch the flank; the Python's venom works through contact with skin or vaporized fluid. He Lingxuan, prepare two specific counter-agents: one for the debilitating confusion from the mist, and a second, fast-acting neutralizer for the Python's neurotoxin. My Micro-Perception will focus on reading the movement of the mist itself—the most likely sign of either a spiritual anomaly or a hidden ambush."
His quiet command settled over the group like a mantle of authority. Li Shulai's eager expression turned serious. He realized they weren't just rushing into a fight; they were executing a planned campaign.
Chen Ruipeng drew a deep breath, adjusting the massive axe on his back to ensure it was instantly accessible. Then, his eyes rested on Lin Yan, clearly waiting for the Commander's full signal.
Lin Yan nodded. His exhaustion was mostly mental, and his body required rest, but he knew the mission was urgent. He didn't step forward to lead, instead settling naturally into a position one step behind and to the side of Li Shulai.
The four followed the flow of students toward the teleportation array area. Sure enough, senior students were distributing small jade vials containing 'Spirit-Aid Fluid,' a gentle blue potion designed to quickly restore depleted Mana and stamina. Each member received and drank a vial; a warm current quickly spread through their limbs, instantly invigorating their spirits.
Preparation complete.
Li Shulai, feeling the recovered energy surge in his body, swung his arm out commandingly. "Let's move!"
He led the way toward the glowing portal gate leading out of the Academy grounds. He Lingxuan followed close behind, her crystal card still scrolling with data. Chen Ruipeng and Lin Yan walked side-by-side, the Axewielder's towering figure serving as a silent bulwark.
Lin Yan took one last steadying breath as they approached the pulsating blue light of the portal. The humiliation from Wei Ming's squad was irrelevant, but the challenge they represented was real. Their team, The Misfits, needed those points. More importantly, he needed to prove that his vision—and the price it exacted—was worth the effort. They trust me now, he thought, adjusting his glasses, I cannot fail them in this first true test. He glanced at his three teammates: Li Shulai's focused ambition, He Lingxuan's meticulous readiness, and Chen Ruipeng's unwavering protective stance. "We move as one unit," he confirmed, his voice low and firm, echoing the central lesson the Headmaster had tried to teach. "Precision over brute force."
With that final affirmation, the four stepped into the shimmering light, ready to face the Cloudmist Marsh.