Mid-Term Exam, Part 2

Su Qing poked the fluffy spot between Orange King’s eyes with her fingertip.

“You get chicken legs for acting cute or for being serious. You get none for threats. Which one are you going for today?”

Orange King, veteran beggar extraordinaire, knew the drill.

With a dramatic thump he leapt to the ground, immediately plastered himself against her leg like a clingy tanker truck, rubbed his big fat head all over her calf, and stepped on her feet with purposeful paws while meowing in the stickiest, sweetest voice imaginable: “Meow~ How could a cute widdle kitty like me ever threaten anyone~”

Su Qing was long immune to his shamelessness, but her hands still itched.

She gave the entire half-ton feline a thorough petting from head to tail before finally stopping.

Orange King narrowed his eyes in bliss—until she sneak-attacked his belly. He jolted and yowled, “Belly rubs cost extra chicken legs!”

“Your belly is so round you’re obviously stuffed.”

Su Qing’s own eyes curved into happy crescents from the healing power of cat tummy, but her real purpose had been to assess his hunger level.

She crouched down and said seriously, “Cook Auntie told me ages ago: your constant begging is purely psychological. You’re not actually hungry. In fact…” She paused, then delivered the cruel truth: “You need to lose weight.”

In the vast Sword Sect, all manner of wonders existed—even a road-blocking beggar cat with childhood trauma.

“Anyway, I’ll owe you the chicken legs this time. Next time you’re genuinely hungry, I’ll treat you, okay?”

“You already petted me and now you’re welshing?! Despicable human!”

Orange King naturally refused. He meowed furiously, rolled all over the ground, waves of fat sloshing from side to side like someone flipping a giant pancake.

But in the end, he and Su Qing shared a bond others didn’t.

Technically, they were once master and disciple (in the sense that she had briefly fed him). Plus, as a proud member of Cook Auntie’s legendary rice-ladling squad, Su Qing could rat him out and get his side hustle shut down.

So, for once, he graciously spared her pants, not shredding them into rags. He only grumbled nonstop: “Daring to toy with this king… All of you are failing this exam!”

Su Qing didn’t take his threats seriously, but she was now extremely curious. What kind of exam required drafting even Orange King?

Everyone’s lips were sealed. Right up until the midterm beganan, she still had no idea.

Then her Spirit Connect pinged:

【First-year midterm examination will officially begin three days from now at the zi hour (11 pm–1 am). 200 second-years and 20 third-years, along with other Sword Sect personnel, will participate as accompaniments. All examinees and accompaniments must be asleep at the zi hour. Anyone still awake will be treated as failed.】

In all her years of schooling, this was the first exam that required students to sleep.

Su Qing quietly theorized: Illusion realm? Sleep as the entry condition?

Three days flew by. It was nearly zi hour.

The tallest structure in Sword Sect was the 120-story Wuya Pavilion on the main peak.

At this moment, several figures stood atop it.

The leader wore white robes; the ferocious night wind whipped everyone’s clothes into full sails.

Yet they stood steady as if on flat ground, proof of their terrifying cultivation.

The white-robed man was naturally Wang Quan.

Behind him stood the pale, black-robed Master of the Discipline Hall, Qin Suzhi—one of the custodians of Sword Sect’s keys.

Her other duty: releasing the priceless treasures sealed deep within the sect’s vaults.

Like tonight.

Wang Quan gazed at a bright star on the horizon and said, “Elder Qin, it’s time.”

At his word, Qin Suzhi produced a long-borrowed treasure from her sleeve: a completely matte-black box that looked utterly plain.

But everyone present knew it was the masterwork of the seventh-tier artifact refiner, True Person Wu Jing—Vengeance Heaven-Song—known as the Illusion Box.

In a million years, reaching seventh-tier in any path made one a heaven-defying genius.

Yet this woman, born a rogue cultivator, had forcibly dragged artifact refining to the seventh tier, surpassing all sect-born refiners.

She was the uncrowned king of the craft.

Some cultivation historians even believed the reason she was called “seventh-tier” was because the inheritance had been lost; in her era the highest known grade was six, and anything above had no classification, so they just called her seventh.

Anything she forged was extraordinary. Even her casual works could trigger bloodbaths and wipe out clans the moment they appeared in the outside world.

Because she had been best friends with the Carefree Immortal, most of her posthumous belongings went to Sword Sect.

Some were placed in the Dragon Boat Secret Realm for students to find; the truly special ones were kept personally by the sect.

The Illusion Box was one of the latter. Wang Quan stared at the black box floating silently in the air, a trace of nostalgia in his voice: “Master never called it the Illusion Box. He always called it the Game Box. Turning something so dangerous into a playground for students… he really was willful.”

Wang Quan still remembered asking the Carefree Immortal that same stupid question years ago.

The Immortal had grinned like a mischievous child, not a trace of the world’s strongest expert on him: “But it’s fun, isn’t it? I hope one day people only fight and kill inside games, and never have to spill a single drop of blood that doesn’t need spilling.”

Then he had suddenly lit up: “Little Quan, classes are so boring every day. How about we hold a sports festival? We can use this Game Box!”

Years had passed since he last saw the box. Wang Quan could have been more sentimental, but cultivators had sharp noses. He wrinkled it in disgust: “It reeks of cat drool. When will Orange King learn to brush his teeth?”

Qin Suzhi thought: Teaching a cat to brush its teeth and teaching it to read—which one was harder?

Even her usually sinister brows twitched helplessly: “I’ve failed. I only hope the next key custodian can make it… develop this good habit.”

Wang Quan gave a noncommittal smile: “That fat cat looks dumb and crazy, but he’s sharper than anyone. Earning his approval isn’t easy.”

Time reached the zi hour exactly.

Wang Quan stopped talking. With a flick of his finger, he sent a thread of pure water-attuned spiritual energy into the box.

The restrictions lit up. The lid opened.

Inside was a pool of perfectly clear liquid shimmering with five-colored light, as if countless pearls, gems, and stars had melted together.

Under the spiritual energy’s guidance, the box slowly inverted.

The beautiful liquid poured silently into the night sky, flowing downward.

In an instant, the entire Sword Sect territory became like a watercolor painting touched by water; real colors faded, replaced by a dreamy, fantastical palette.

The Illusion Box opened. The exam began.

Su Qing had gone to bed early, waiting. Tang Yueling and Tian Ning lay in their respective beds too.

For some reason, on nights when she desperately needed to sleep, she just… couldn’t.

Probably terror of failing because of insomnia.

Tang Yueling sat up and complained, “Exam this, exam that—what the hell are they even testing? They won’t tell us anything! The more they tell me to sleep, the less I can. Are you two asleep?”

Tian Ning silently opened her eyes and stared calmly at the ceiling. “I was.”

Normally Tian Ning’s brain was empty; she could fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Su Qing called her the “anywhere, anytime power nap queen.” Once, while on sword courier duty, she had dozed off mid-flight and gotten complaints, losing her Outstanding Employee title. The title itself didn’t matter, but missing the bonus hurt.

Su Qing squeezed her eyes shut, clasped her hands over her chest like a corpse, and declared peacefully: “Whatever. Forcing sleep. If all else fails, Tian Ning can knock us out one by one and then sleep herself.”

Tian Ning replied coldly, “Can do.” She had already decided to hit Tang Yueling a little harder.

“No need for such budget methods,” Tang Yueling twitched. After living together so long, she still wasn’t used to her two broke roommates’ poverty mindset. She produced an incense burner, delicately pinched out a pinch of golden Dream Incense with pale fingers, lit it, and set it in the burner.

A faint, gentle fragrance rose from the exquisite burner, wrapping the room in warm drowsiness.

No one spoke. Only soft, reassuring breathing remained. Su Qing’s eyelids suddenly grew heavy. Her head lolled, and she slipped smoothly into dreamland.

The moment she entered the dream, she was perfectly lucid.

She couldn’t see her own body. In front of her floated a map—the complete map of Sword Sect.

Main peak, the six branch peaks of the major schools, cafeteria, Wuya Pavilion, sword-testing forest, Little Mirror Lake, dorms, Pill School’s Thirty-Six Pill Towers and Twelve Pill Halls, Artifact School’s forging hall, Beast School’s Beast Heart Valley, Array School’s Eighty-Eight Mystery Gates, Talisman School’s Ink-Washing Lake, Body School’s underground caverns… every landmark was there in exquisite detail.

That was already impressive, but more importantly: Nearly two thousand green dots were slowly moving along a diagonal line that cut across the map. Mixed among them was one eye-catching red dot labeled 【Su Qing】.

A string of glowing characters scrolled past:

【Midterm Examination & Sword Sect 6th Annual Sports Festival officially begins! Please prepare yourselves.】

【Scoring will be based on survival duration, combat performance, and other multi-dimensional criteria. Please keep this in mind and submit a satisfactory answer sheet.】

【Special notice: The year of the last survivor will receive a 5% bonus on all secret-realm mission rewards for the next ten years. Their school will receive an additional 5%.】

【Fight for Sword Sect, for your year, for your school, and for your own honor!】

【That is all.】

【Examinee: Su Qing, please select your drop zone.】

Under the barrage of text, Su Qing was stunned speechless for a moment. She wanted to cover her face and howl:

“Who here is the actual modern person?!”

She had only been eighty percent sure there was a transmigrator senior in Sword Sect before. Now she was two hundred percent sure.

An exam that was a near 1:1 recreation of that classic battle-royale chicken dinner game from her previous life?!

This senior was having way too much fun.