Chapter Four: The Enrollment Farce (Part Two)

This particular voracious eating habit truly hadn’t been heard of before, but receiving such high praise from Zixia made Kuangchi unable to resist studying those few elders more closely. It seemed those elders also sensed Kuangchi’s gaze, and almost simultaneously, they turned their eyes toward him.

As time ticked by, more and more people gathered before the meteorite. Nearly everyone arrived aboard luxurious airships. There was no need to mention the beautiful women disembarking from those vessels; even the endless procession of airships, each with its unique design, made Kuangchi inwardly sigh that the journey had not been in vain.

Naturally, what caught Kuangchi’s attention most were those dazzling airships. As for the so-called beauties, Kuangchi currently felt little interest. His fascination with airships was perhaps influenced by the Phantom Thief, who loved to design small crafts—the very octopus-like vessel Kuangchi once used was one of his creations.

After more than a year, Kuangchi had grown fond of these things. Now, whenever he saw a new type of small airship, he couldn’t help but feel curious—wondering about the designer’s methods and the wonders hidden inside.

As the crowd before the meteorite swelled, so too did the onlookers gathering around. Observing the playful expressions among the spectators, Kuangchi grew increasingly puzzled. He watched for a long time yet couldn’t discern the reason for their amusement. It wasn’t until Zixia, standing nearby, urged him to enter the square that he finally asked, “Zixia, why are they smiling so oddly?”

Zixia only chuckled, covering her mouth as she replied, “You don’t know? Well, never mind if you don’t. You’ll understand soon enough. Hurry up, time is almost up. If you’re late, you’ll have to wait another year.”

Seeing Zixia unwilling to offer an explanation, Kuangchi’s curiosity only deepened, but he didn’t dwell on it. Nodding, he strode directly into the square before the meteorite.

Gazing at the sea of handsome men and beautiful women inside, Kuangchi, being short, wanted desperately to squeeze to the front; otherwise, standing at the back, he could see nothing of what was happening ahead. But within the square, people were packed tightly together—so densely that those at the front were nearly pressed chest-to-back.

After several attempts to force his way forward, Kuangchi found those at the front weren’t at all concerned with noble manners. A few, seeing him trying to push through, even gave him a hard shove.

In the end, Kuangchi could only stand helplessly at the back of the crowd. Once settled, he glanced back at Zixia and the others standing at the edge of the square, their faces barely suppressing laughter, and his sense of unease only grew.

It wasn’t long before the ancient bell in the Imperial Academy’s clocktower—an edifice with thousands of years of history—began to toll. Suddenly, Kuangchi sensed a shift in gravity beneath his feet. As the force changed abruptly, the innate energy within him began to circulate automatically in response, counteracting the effect.

For someone like Kuangchi, who had already reached the innate realm, this shift posed little challenge—his internal energy was more than sufficient to deal with it. But for those whose cultivation was much lower, the sudden change caught them completely unprepared.

Thousands at the front began to float upward, all due to the sudden weakening of gravity. Some floated higher, some less so, but all were lifted off their feet.

Lifting his eyes, Kuangchi now understood why none of the noble ladies were wearing long or short skirts, and why so many people in the air were holding hands or even embracing each other.

Not everyone in the square was airborne; a certain number, like Kuangchi, remained steadily grounded, most of whom were also standing at the periphery. These people, men and women alike, were now eyeing one another with curiosity, noting who else could remain standing.

As Kuangchi mused over this, he suddenly felt a heavy force press down—gravity had not only returned but now weighed in at five times its usual strength. Normally, Kuangchi trained under tenfold gravity, so five times was nothing. Still, the sudden shift from weightlessness to such heaviness, especially while he was unprepared, made his knees buckle slightly.

Looking at the pile of people who had collapsed ahead, and hearing the laughter erupt from the crowd, Kuangchi couldn’t help but laugh himself. He finally understood why those in front gathered so tightly and clung to each other—by holding on, at least they wouldn’t end up rolling around alone, and with the strongest on the outside, the scene remained somewhat dignified.

Kuangchi shot a fierce glare at Zixia and the others, still laughing at the edge of the square. He was no fool and immediately realized this gravity test must be one of the Imperial Academy’s entrance trials—a traditional event, judging by the number of spectators who had come just for the spectacle.

Reflecting on how Zixia and the others hadn’t warned him in advance, Kuangchi suspected they wanted to see him make a fool of himself. He glared especially hard at the four sisters of the You family, who had accompanied Zixia here a year ago and surely knew all about this. Zixia he could forgive, but as his personal attendants, the You sisters’ silence left him somewhat vexed.

The gravity field continued to fluctuate—one moment weightless, the next at seven or eight times normal, and twice even reaching twelvefold. Now, even those with higher cultivation found their energy reserves rapidly depleting.

After more than a dozen cycles, those in the square had lost all composure, most now clinging together, bracing for each fall or ascent, all attention focused inward to lessen the impact. Even some of those who had seemed at ease on the periphery joined the crowd.

The chaos drew roars of laughter from the onlookers, but through it all, Kuangchi had not moved an inch. Of course, to outsiders, he appeared perfectly calm, but his internal energy was working furiously, hidden from view.

After several rounds, even the elders seated at the front, who themselves hadn’t budged, began to cast curious glances at Kuangchi—perhaps because he seemed so at ease.

With his current cultivation, especially after beginning to practice the Starry Sky Technique, Kuangchi’s mind worked with extraordinary speed. This quickened not only his reaction time and sensitivity but also his control over his energy—traits that had always been weaknesses in his family’s otherwise destructive martial style.

Seeing Kuangchi’s relaxed expression, even the elders couldn’t hide their puzzlement, and Zixia was utterly bewildered as well. Those high-level new students who remained on the periphery constantly glanced over, trying to size him up.

The Kuang family’s Dragon Fury Technique was famous, but its weaknesses were equally well known among the ancient clans and sects. As everyone wondered, they began speculating about Kuangchi’s true abilities.

It’s the end of the year—everyone’s busy, and so am I—updates are irregular, so I hope you’ll understand. Please don’t be too harsh on me—I’ll never abandon this story. My apologies to everyone.