"Oscar, just how far is one lap?"
There was a hint of helplessness in Ning Rongrong's voice. At first, she had been brimming with confidence. Even though she was only an auxiliary-type Soul Master, her physical fitness far surpassed that of ordinary people. She had thought twenty laps would be nothing.
Yet since leaving the academy, under Oscar's lead, Ning Rongrong had not even completed a single lap, and quite some time had already passed. At this rate, forget lunch—even whether they would get dinner was questionable. Besides, her stamina was steadily declining, so there was no way she could maintain this pace forever.
Oscar gave a bitter smile. "I said when we set out that this was an impossible task. But don't be afraid. With the two of us auxiliary-type Soul Masters together, are we really going to worry about going hungry? Want to eat some...?"
"An impossible task..."
Hearing those words, Ning Rongrong suddenly stopped. She did not pay attention to what he said afterward, instead beginning to ponder Flender's intentions. Without question, there was no way an auxiliary-type Soul Master like her could run twenty laps, which meant she would definitely go hungry at noon.
But why would Flender assign her an impossible task? Wasn't he plainly making things difficult for her?
Ning Rongrong was no fool.
After giving it some thought, she understood that Flender wanted to knock her down a peg and wear away some of her arrogance. This sort of tactic was not uncommon; Ning Rongrong had seen plenty of it in her sect. She also knew it was meant to make subordinates easier to manage.
But the problem was, it would be one thing if this were some great sect or prestigious academy. You were merely the headmaster of a rundown academy—what gave