Ch87 – “1, 2, 3, Fighting!”

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The Night Clan also had an information file on Zhuge An.

The most important thing inside was his history. 

Due to the Taiji Eight Trigrams dial, many people suspected he was an apprentice selected by Gui Guzi back then.

A decade had passed since Gui Guzi’s death, and few records remained of those who had fought alongside him.

 

 

Nor did anyone know what mission he had left behind for his students.

These were all secondary.
Most importantly, no one believed that Zhuge An was a good man. 

Zong Jiu shared their opinion on this point.

 

Even if Gui Guzi had left a mission, Zhuge An wasn’t the type that would obediently listen to others.
The level of caution that every force regarded him with was geared to the max.

It was probably unthinkable to No.
2 was that the little Jiu-didi, who he saw through a childhood filter, was already well-acquainted with the two people he’d just spoken of.

On the third day after his conversation with Van Zhuo, the postponed monthly exam arrived.

 

The time was the same, the venue was the same, and even the weather had returned to its usual dreary state.

As instructed, trainees moved their desks and chairs to the quadrangle, arranging them in neat vertical and horizontal rows spread across the area.

On the cusp of an exam, everyone was in an anxious and gloomy mood.

 

Unlike the previous placement exam, a war fought without preparations, it was truly time to put their aptitudes to the test. 

Zong Jiu watched teaching assistants clear the quadrangle through the window, checking every desk for issues, and if any were found, the desk and chair would both be replaced.

The white-haired Magician turned back to the class, his domineering gaze sweeping across every student.

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“We’re about to take the exam, so I won’t touch on the unnecessary.
This exam doesn’t only concern your own life, but the lives of the entire class.”

“You only have four hours of exam time.
It’s impossible to complete all nine subjects and the Olympiad questions.
Just as we had analysed, attempt the multiple choice first.
Give priority to the ones you know, skip those that you don’t know, and don’t take too much time.” 

Zong Jiu’s gaze lingered on the few trainees at the bottom of the class.
“Don’t put too much pressure on yourselves.
If you really can’t do it, compose yourself and add words to what you have already done.
Alternatively, you can choose to do politics first.”

It had to be said that political science was the most bizarre of the nine subjects.

Attending politics class really made one harden their fists.

Although the societal values inside an instance were typically hundredfold different from an ordinary world, it really was an eye-opener to see it distorted to such an extent. 

In this world of rapidly advancing technology, sociologists and scientists began to explore what could be done to maximise a society’s productivity level.

It was under this utilitarian mindset that new laws and policies were rolled out.

 

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection.
If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

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People useless to society referred to mischievous students who didn’t take their studies seriously, bad students who engaged in campus romance and fights.
Such people were the dregs of society that would not produce an iota of contribution even after leaving the school system.

Gradually, by and by, such thinking permeated all facets of society.

Schools, generally acknowledged to be the cradle of humanity, naturally bore the brunt of this. 

Many extreme right-wing specialists were also adamant that those useless to society couldn’t generate societal value, so they were better off dying to become fertiliser for Mother Nature.
Under such an atmosphere, elite schools had written life and death contracts, such that any parent who wished to send their students to study with their school had to sign a liability waiver.

Parents naturally hoped that their darling children could stand out.
They had no idea what kind of hell they had sent their children into.

The prevailing social ideology was faithfully recorded in textbooks in this instance,  cultivating people who would grow up to become advocates for the survival of the fittest in this way.

In essence, attending political science class really tested one’s patience.
But for the sake of their scores, they could only grit their teeth and endure it. 

Soon, teaching assistants instructed students to head down for the examination.

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Under the whole class’ intense insistence, Zong Jiu grudgingly stacked hands with them.

“1, 2, 3, fighting!”

After cheering to pump up their spirits, Zong Jiu made sure to show concern for index 99, who had received his daily tutelage for the past month. 

If this was any other class, the bottom rungs would be subtly given the cold shoulder.
Only Class 9 had a decent environment going, even grabbing hold of those at the bottom for remedial every day.

Though their scores didn’t improve by much, everyone got to know each other better.
They would be in this hellish instance for more than a hundred days.
While it was only a month since, revolutionary friendships had emerged.
Other classes refused to even speak of cheating and deeply feared that those underachievers would drag them down, but Class 9 was different.
Practically half the students had volunteered to help those at the bottom of the class cheat.

“Be more cautious.
Drop the thought; it’s too risky.”

After all, getting caught was an immediate zero; it was too risky indeed.
One slip-up could implicate the entire class, so after ruminating over it for a long time, Zong Jiu still called a stop to it. 

“Don’t be nervous.
Take the exam seriously and do your best.”

After the rest of the trainees went down, Zong Jiu went the extra length to encourage index 99.

 

Despite the many hours put into raising index 99’s scores in vain, this funny fellow had a good character.

He fared poorly academically yet somehow managed to get along well with other trainees in the class, becoming one with them.
Purportedly, there were people in the class who wanted to scout index 99 into their guilds after this instance. 

This guy had been in the infinite loop for a long time.
In spite of his status as a free agent, he still managed to reach B-rank.
This showed that he had fairly good potential and luck, and was also willing to put in the hard work.
If he could survive this instance, he could be considered to have achieved success even among other thriller trainees.

“Okay!”

Index 99 pulled index 98, and the bottom five of the class straightened up, playfully saluting the whole class.
“We won’t let Class 9 down! For the glory of Class 9!”

Ten minutes later, when all trainees were seated, the exam began. 

One by one, blank exam booklets were distributed from the front and spread flat on everyone’s desks.

Only the rustling of pens against paper could be heard across the exam venue.

[I wonder how high the year average will be this time.]

[The scores nearly doubled in the last quiz, so it’s still up in the air which class will end up last.] 

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[At this point, it’s looking a bit dangerous for Tsuchimikado’s Class 7.
The Magician’s Class 9 as well.
But I personally think that Class 8 is also a possibility, and Class 4 is looking very dangerous too… There are notable trainees in these classes; it’d be quite a pity if any one of them got wiped out.]

[I’ll switch to another broadcast first and come back in four hours to check out the results.]

Zong Jiu buried his head in the questions when suddenly he sensed a shadow loom over him.

Perhaps because No.
1 was the chief invigilator, he was dressed very formally today.
He wore a black suit over a white dress shirt and a tie, even putting on airs by wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. 

The plain lenses screened the malice in his eyes, and only when daylight shone over could people catch the cool glint plated on the rims of the glasses.

Seeing the white-haired young man, the man absently tugged at his tie, peering down at him.
“Take the exam seriously.
I don’t have the answers written on my face.”

Zong Jiu didn’t speak but spun the pen between his fingers, fully expressing his contempt before lowering his head to carry on working on the questions.

Although he really wanted to snark back at No.
1, ‘stop sauntering in front of me, then’, the exam venue had a rule.
No talking. 

Please.
As if Zong Jiu was going to fall for the Devil’s ruse.

 

 

The four hours this time passed even faster than before.

“Time is up.
All candidates, please put down your pens.
The invigilators will now come around and collect your scripts.” 

When the announcement proclaiming the end of the examination was made, everyone stopped their pens—except for one class’s trainee, who was just short of finishing a high-weightage science question, still desperately fighting for time.

The next second, however, he yelled in pain.
The pen in his hand flew out of his grip, tearing a hideous wound between his thumb and his index finger.
Sticky blood dripped down.

“Class 5, index 14 failed to stop his pen after the end of the examination.
A minor infraction noted, to be enforced within three days.”

Other than the miserable shriek, the quadrangle was utterly silent. 

No one paid attention to this small interlude.
The trainees’ lines of sight were wholly focused on the teachers grading the scripts under the flag-raising platform.

It would take less than an hour for these thousand scripts to be marked, and henceforth determine which class ranked last.

Everyone’s hearts shuddered every time the teachers marking called out a score.

It was a long wait and a torturous trial. 

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Silence and fear were infinitely magnified, and the sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach’s was unbearable.

Each person’s life was tightly compressed into a thin piece of paper.

While entrance exams determined each high school student’s fate, this script determined their life.

Finally, the last script was declared marked. 

The teaching director slowly walked up the flag-raising platform and took the crimson paper, starting to announce the top three in the year and the class placements.

Invigilators handed out the marked scripts during this.

This time, Zong Jiu successfully pulled ahead, climbing from fourth to third in the year.

“First place in average scores, Class 1.
Second place in average scores, Class 3.
Third place in average scores…” 

One after another, the classes who had been called heaved a sigh, giving each other high fives in encouragement.

The further down he read, the more anxious those classes who hadn’t been called got.

 

Recalling the tragic scene that befell the last ten placings in the first placement exam, some trainees involuntarily shuddered in their seats.

Zong Jiu angled his head slightly and saw index 99 slumped against the table surface, looking dismayed. 

It was obvious at a glance that this was the posture of someone who hadn’t done well.

Just then, the teaching director announced the eighth placing.

“Eighth place, Class 9.”

Class 9’s trainees gave a start.
Following which, ecstasy leapt from their expressions, and they rose to their feet in applause. 

“We made it! We’re not in last place!”

“Kiddo, you did it! Someone like you actually managed to pull through; the remedial classes monitor gave you weren’t in vain!”

“I’m this close to balding from the daily remedial I gave you in the last ten days.
Guys, dinner is on me when we return to the trainee dormitories!”

They carried those few bottom-scoring trainees in the class, who still had yet to process what was going on, and tossed them into the air, relieved beams on their faces.