A sharp, piercing screech of air rang out through the venue.
Zhang Yu’s palm was held high, supporting a flying sword spinning at high speed like a helicopter’s rotor.
You’re it, then—Rotating Shuriken!
In the next instant, with a burst of mana, the spinning sword surged forward like a massive disc, sweeping upward toward the floating signal plates in the air.
Ascetic Cultivator (View Details)
As Han Xingye focused on the expanding text above Zhang Yu’s head, a long string of descriptions appeared.
Ascetic Cultivator | Athletic Specialty Student | Songyang City Extreme Poverty Class | Loan Slave | Card Slave | ???
The moment he read Zhang Yu’s attributes through the Heavenly Eye Sigil, Han Xingye was stunned for the second time today.
“Where the hell are they finding these people this year?”
The first two—Ascetic Cultivator, Athletic Specialty—were easy enough to grasp. It just meant the kid was disciplined and good at sports.
The next three also made sense: poor. Dirt poor.
But it was the final three question marks that truly made Han Xingye’s eyes widen.
“A Concealment Sigil? A Disguise Sigil?”
If there’s a Heavenly Eye Sigil to analyze someone's status, naturally there are countermeasures—sigils to obscure or falsify results.
But first off, how could a broke kid afford talismans?
Second, Han Xingye had never seen anyone use a Concealment or Disguise Sigil only to leave behind a blatant trail of three question marks. That’s practically screaming “I’m hiding something!”
“These three question marks are so cocky.”
Arrogance and poverty—two traits that should never coexist—were now coiled together above Zhang Yu’s head.
Han Xingye’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
Then he looked up and saw the flying sword spin into motion, rising into the sky like a giant disc.
The sword, spinning fast enough to kick up whirling air currents, swept across the floating signal plates like a circular moon. Even Han Xingye couldn’t hide a hint of surprise on his face.
Then he chuckled. “Heh… I’ll give him that. This method makes hitting the plates a lot easier. With that disc shape, a few sweeps can knock out all the targets. Makes up for a lack of flight control experience.”
Han Xingye gave a small nod at the score—until a chorus of complaints rose from the student stands, calling Zhang Yu a cheater and rule-breaker.
He swept his gaze over them.
Insignificant. Rare. Insignificant. Insignificant.
Insignificant. Insignificant. Insignificant. Rare.
Insignificant. Insignificant. Rare. Insignificant.
He scoffed at the crowd. “Idiots.”
“To make a flying sword spin like that while maintaining control, without it veering off and crashing, takes incredibly fine-tuned mana control.”
“That model of flying sword was designed for straightforward movement. To rotate it like that, the user has to continuously vary the input rhythm every second.”
“This guy is compensating for a lack of flight experience with superb mana control.”
“80 points? That’s low. He should’ve scored higher.”
“Probably the judges are trying not to promote that method, due to sponsor interests.”
His eyes flicked toward Purple Cloud High and Red Tower High. Sure enough, none of the three elite schools’ students raised any objections—they all understood how difficult the maneuver was.
Later, as others tried to copy Zhang Yu’s method, most lost control. Flying swords veered off wildly.
Thankfully, the judges were vigilant, and no injuries occurred.
Even the doubters began to realize—what Zhang Yu did with that spinning sword was far from simple.
On his way back, Zhang Yu sighed inwardly. “This flying sword really wasn’t built for that. My mana can still increase the rhythm, but the scabbard’s command frequency is maxed out. Otherwise, I could’ve scored even higher.”
Clearly, while his spinning technique didn’t reach the limit of what his level 10 Zhou Tian Qi-Gathering Technique–trained mana control could handle, it had already hit the limit of the sword’s design. After all, it wasn’t meant to be used like that.
As soon as Zhang Yu returned to Songyang High’s rest area, Teacher Yan praised him.
“Zhang Yu, you did great. Using your mana control to offset your lack of swordflight experience—80 points is undercutting it.”
“As for those loser schools complaining, ignore them. Just background noise.”
Thinking about Zhang Yu’s score, Teacher Yan secretly beamed. “If the next two rounds give him the right opening, he might squeeze into the top ten!”
Only the top ten in total score get a prize, an official ranking, and points toward university interviews. High schools take those results very seriously.
If Zhang Yu really could make it, her year-end bonus would surely get a boost too. Her spirits rose.
She casually pointed at the student with the worst score.
“Bai Zhenzhen, go get Zhang Yu a water bottle. Zhang Yu, don’t get nervous in the next two rounds. Just perform like usual…”
Bai Zhenzhen’s eyes flew wide open. She shot a look at Zhang Yu, who was smirking nearby, and stood up with a huff to fetch the drink.
“Hold up, Ah-Zhen, lemme snap a pic.”
“Drop dead, Zhang Yu.”
She hurled the bottle at his head, fuming as she sat down. In her heart, she grumbled, “Damn it, should’ve just left before the contest started.”
“Stupid Law Tournament. Just another rich kids’ game.”
“Yuzi, you better make top ten. Or else I’ll…”
Not far away, He Dayou stared at Zhang Yu’s score, a flicker of surprise flashing in his eyes. “His mana control is that strong? Good thing… good thing he’s a broke bastard.”
Soon after, the first round ended completely. The host returned to the stage, grinning broadly.
“Good medicine? Choose Purple Cloud! The all-ages favorite—Purple Cloud Pharmaceuticals! One pill to cure a thousand ills—thank you to Purple Cloud Corporation for co-sponsoring today’s Law Tournament!”
“All emergency remedies for Round Two will be supplied by Purple Cloud Corporation…”
As he spoke, the host began to announce the rules of the second round.
This time, the challenge was to neutralize specialized mana.