The fiftieth time.
The hundredth time.
The two hundredth time...
Even when the sun had climbed directly overhead.
In the little courtyard, Ning Rongrong remained before the stone table like a rigid statue, staring fixedly at the mixed pile of five-colored grains and beans.
Her mental power had been exhausted to the absolute limit.
Fine beads of sweat had long since soaked through the back of her fitted training clothes.
Several sweat-dampened strands of hair clung to her cheeks in utter disarray.
Hum-
Four extremely faint threads of Soul Power extended from Ning Rongrong's fingertips with tremendous difficulty.
A red bean, a mung bean, a grain of yellow millet, a grain of white rice.
Four grains of different colors and weights were barely lifted into the air by those four extremely unstable threads.
"The fifth... I have to split off a fifth..."
Ning Rongrong clenched her teeth, having already bitten through her lower lip.
The taste of blood spread across her lips, yet it had become her only means of stimulating her mind and staying conscious.
Just as she tried to forcibly squeeze her dried-up sea of consciousness, dragging out a fifth thread of Soul Power to touch that tiny black sesame seed.
A violent wave of dizziness slammed into her mind.
"Ugh!"
Ning Rongrong let out an agonized grunt, and her vision abruptly went black.
There was a soft pop.
The four threads of Soul Power she had painstakingly condensed snapped instantly, dissolving into specks of light in the air.
The four beans suspended in midair fell helplessly with them, landing in the porcelain bowls whose contents had already been sorted.
Once again, they completely disrupted the previously meticulous sorting.
She had failed again.
Ning Rongrong's legs buckled, and she pitched forward uncontrollably, bracing her hands clumsily against the