“Third-rank Mahayana, eh? Nothing much to say then,” the crowd nodded.
Under their stares and murmurs, Lin Yun followed Liang Yuan to a distinguished middle-aged man in the field.
“Hall Master He, Dongyuan’s champ, Lin Yun, delivered safe and sound—here’s his file,” Liang Yuan handed over a dossier.
“Lin Yun, this is Hall Master He, Fire Cloud Empire’s Martial Exam overseer and this national round’s chief examiner,” Liang Yuan introduced.
“Greetings, Hall Master He,” Lin Yun saluted.
He didn’t reply, just took the file, flipped it open.
“Third-rank Mahayana?”
He muttered, then snapped it shut.
“Liang Yuan, his file’s clean, yeah? No record of breaking empire felony laws?” Hall Master He asked.
Breaking major empire laws usually barred entry.
“Hall Master, all checked,” Liang Yuan confirmed.
“Good, you’ve done your bit—head to the judges’ stand,” Hall Master He waved him off.
“Yes, sir,” Liang Yuan replied.
He turned to Lin Yun, “Lin Yun, hang here—national round starts at two, not long now, I’m off to the stand.”
“Cheers, Brother Liang,” Lin Yun said politely.
Normally, Liang Yuan’s job as envoy ended here—drop off the champ, no chit-chat needed.
Lin Yun’s “Brother Liang” floored the dozen-plus prefecture champs.
“He’s calling Envoy Liang ‘Brother Liang’? What’s that about?”
“He’s just a candidate, Liang’s an examiner—that’s mad, innit?”
The champs buzzed, even Hall Master He glanced at Lin Yun and Liang Yuan, surprised, but didn’t pry.
Liang Yuan headed to the left-side judges’ stand and sat.
Other envoys were there too.
“Old Liang, what’s the deal? That Dongyuan kid calling you ‘Brother Liang’?” Old Cheng, the envoy from the gate, piped up.
“He’s a top lad—I’ve taken him as a brother,” Liang Yuan said.
“Pfft!”
The dozen-odd envoys stifled laughs.
“Old Liang, you serious? Brothering up with a candidate? That’s a new one—third-rank Mahayana at that, you reckon he’ll nab the crown?”
“Old Liang, this is wild—even if we rib you as a talent jinx, no need to stoop to this, mate, it’s a bit of a disgrace to us envoys!”
…
They jabbered, sarcasm dripping.
Liang Yuan’s face tightened, but he didn’t bite back.
“Oh, just now at the gate, Old Liang said this third-rank Mahayana from Dongyuan’s a freak—probably why he’s chumming up,” Old Cheng grinned.
“Freak or not, third-rank Mahayana’s miles off Tribulation realm—chalk and cheese.”
“This year’s batch ain’t bad—I checked, four first-turn Tribulation realm champs here already! A third-rank Mahayana’s just garnish next to them.”
The envoys yapped on.
Liang Yuan stewed, itching to see them eat their words later.
“I won’t ramble—I brought Lin Yun, you’ll see what he’s got soon enough,” he said.
Center field.
Lin Yun stood with the other champs, waiting for the round to kick off.
Fifteen here now—four first-turn Tribulation realm, eleven third-rank Mahayana.
Rivals, sure, but they were chatting, especially the four Tribulation realm blokes, swarmed by the rest, the stars.
Post-exam, they’d join the empire—Tribulation realm types would snag higher gigs, so the Mahayana crowd was cozying up now.
Lin Yun wouldn’t grovel, nor did anyone sidle up to him.
“You alright? I’m Chu Libai, Qingjiang Prefecture champ, third-rank Mahayana,” a suave, handsome bloke approached Lin Yun.
“Alright, I’m Lin Yun, Dongyuan champ, same as you—third-rank Mahayana,” Lin Yun gave a polite smile.
“You’re stood here alone, not mingling—bit odd, so I thought I’d chat,” Chu Libai said.
“I don’t do brown-nosing—don’t like it either, makes me the weirdo in their eyes, what about you? You’re not over there,” Lin Yun eyed him.
He’d noticed—just him and Chu Libai weren’t hobnobbing.
“Same boat—don’t fancy groveling, I go with my gut, don’t do what I don’t like, another oddball, birds of a feather, eh? Here to team up,” Chu Libai grinned.
He sighed, “Us third-rank Mahayana lot—big shots back home, but here at the national round, we’re snubbed, no one’s bothering with us.”
“Strength talks—nail a good score, beats all this,” Lin Yun said coolly.
“Aye, strength’s king,” Chu Libai nodded.
“Oi, Lin Yun, what’s your goal?” Chu Libai asked.
“Goal? The crown,” Lin Yun said.
“Oh? Snap! I’m after the crown too,” Chu Libai laughed.
Lin Yun blinked, surprised, glancing at him.
Mid-chat, two more envoys rolled in with their champs.
They dropped them off and scarpered—no extra words like Liang Yuan gave Lin Yun.
Ten-odd minutes later, the last champ arrived, led by a white-haired envoy.
“Hall Master He, my pick this year’s second-turn Tribulation realm—crown’s his, ten-to-one!” the white-haired envoy strutted, brimming.
“What? Second-turn Tribulation realm?”
The field erupted at that.
“Past decade’s exams haven’t seen a second-turn—that’s a massive edge,” Hall Master He said.
