Testing

"Isata?"

"Aren't we going to White Mountain Boros?"

Some people still remembered the academy mentioned during recruitment.

But no one in the know paid any attention to those quiet murmurs.

Neither the wizard apprentices and knights at the front nor the wizards paid any heed to the muttering.

With no answers to their questions, and the knights urging them onward again, the matter scattered into the wind.

People followed the crowd. When they saw those ahead begin moving, those behind unconsciously followed.

After getting off the carriages, the thousands of people headed toward the enormous tower.

The sights along the way were bizarre and grotesque.

From time to time, bats, moths, and other flying creatures passed overhead.

"Caw, caw, caw!!"

A harsh clamor rang in their ears.

Everything around them was slightly damp. The mist looked disgusting, but it seemed harmless—at least, the wizards had not given them anything to counter poison.

As they continued onward, a small disturbance arose among the people ahead.

A vast open space had appeared before them, the driest place they had encountered along the way.

Quite a few tents had already been set up here: black and gray pointed tents standing in the middle of the clearing.

People were everywhere, lining up like winding dragons.

Clearly, Charles's caravan was not the only one to arrive at Isata.

Isata recruited students elsewhere as well.

Charles and the others continued forward, constantly being directed into separate streams by the knights.

First, the men and women were divided. This meant Charles had no choice but to part with Molly.

Molly looked at Charles reluctantly. Only then did Charles pat her on the head. "Go on. I'll find you again someday."

Molly nodded at last, then suddenly threw herself at Charles and planted a kiss on his cheek before following the crowd away.

Charles wiped the warm wetness from his cheek, said nothing, and continued onward.

Ahead, the crowd split up again.

Those who were not Third-Rank Wizard Apprentices were led into more than a dozen lines, each corresponding to a pointed tent.

Wizard apprentices like Charles, meanwhile, were guided into a different line.

There were quite a few people here as well. At the very least, more than a hundred apprentices stood in line ahead of Charles.

More people continued joining the line from behind.

Charles was fairly tall. Standing on tiptoe and looking around, he could not help clicking his tongue.

It felt as though there were several thousand people around them, perhaps even more.

He had a suspicion. These probably were not all the newcomers; some had arrived before them, and others would arrive after.

"How many students is Isata recruiting this time, anyway?"

Charles had no acquaintances by his side, and he had no desire to chat. He simply followed the line onward.

Clearly, Isata had deliberately scattered everyone so they could not band together.

Finally, after waiting several hours, it was Charles's turn.

Ahead, six knights in standard armor but bearing entirely different crests guarded the entrance to a pointed tent.

The knights gave off a fierce, savage aura. Every one of them seemed to possess at least the strength of a Great Knight.

Feeling that pressure, Charles's breathing could not help but hitch.

One knight said in a muffled voice, "Follow me."

Charles followed the knight into the tent. In its center sat a figure in black robes, silent and still.

Before him stood a transparent crystal ball the size of a human head.

Charles saluted him, then sat down.

Only then did he clearly see the wizard before him.

This wizard did not look like a normal person either. His face was covered in countless patterns, and those patterns even slowly writhed.

The wizard extended a withered finger, its joints like those of a dried corpse, and pointed at the crystal ball. "Apprentice Charles Augustus?"

"Yes, sir."

The wizard gave a slight nod, and then a small knife flew before Charles.

"Use the knife to cut open your palm. Press your blood against the crystal ball, then use your mental power to sense it. I will test your cultivation talent."

The wizard's hoarse voice rang beside Charles's ear.

Charles grabbed the sharp knife. Without hesitating for even a moment, he gritted his teeth and sliced open his left palm.

Slap!

A sharp pain struck. Charles pressed his left hand over the crystal ball and extended his mental power to sense the sphere beneath his hand.

The crystal ball felt like a black hole to Charles, endlessly devouring his mental power and blood.

Only after it reached a certain threshold did the crystal ball finally change.

"That is enough. Stop," the wizard said.

Charles quickly pulled his hand away.

The crystal ball before him began to glow. The light went from dim to bright, until it was like a large light bulb placed directly before him.

After maintaining its glow for some time, the light began to contract back into the crystal ball. It seemed to be gathering together, finally forming a cluster of runes Charles did not recognize at all.

Within the crystal ball, the runes split apart and recombined. In the end, their color even turned a faint blackish red.

When all the dust had settled—

The wizard narrowed his eyes at Charles.

That gaze made Charles shudder. It was like an unknown lizard hidden in the grass, watching you.

The wizard said, "Your talent is not bad."

"Your soul talent has reached the second rank. Your future meditation will still yield good results."

"Beyond that, you possess a thin Demonic Beast bloodline. During the early stages of cultivation, it will be of great help to you."

"The talents in your soul and physical bloodline make you suited to study three factions within the academy: Flesh Witchcraft, Abyssal Grimoire, and Pain Transmutation."

"Just keep these matters to yourself in the future. Do not speak of them outside, otherwise... heh heh!"

The wizard before him gave a low laugh.

"Alright, go out. Follow the directions and keep moving forward."

Charles promptly bowed. "Thank you, sir!"

Covering the wound on his hand, he walked toward the exit on the other side of the pointed tent.

Several more knights stood guard there. One of them stopped Charles.

"Hold out your left hand."

Charles quickly and obediently extended his hand. The knight then scooped up a spoonful of black ointment and smeared it over his wound.

The wound, which had still hurt and seeped blood slightly, rapidly stopped bleeding under the ointment's effect and even began to heal.

His palm itched faintly, as though it were rapidly recovering from within.

Charles continued forward. This road seemed to lead into Isata.

There were still many people along the way, but the paths ahead were as distinct as the Jing and Wei Rivers. Guided by a knight, Charles stepped onto a road in the center.

As he walked onward, the surroundings grew increasingly strange. Every bird or bat that flew overhead put Charles on alert.

He could even feel countless gazes examining him from the surrounding darkness.