Following the Yang Family steward, the three hundred and sixty children from South Bank lined up and entered the rear courtyard.
"Those clan descendants up ahead all seem to have failed!"
"Huh? Really? There were more than two hundred of them—none made it?"
"Of course it's true. When I went to the privy just now, I heard two Clan Soldiers talking about it."
"Looks like the elders weren't lying when they said it was one in ten thousand."
"Sigh... if even the clan descendants couldn't do it, then we probably have even less hope."
"Are those three on the platform the Immortal Masters?"
"They all look so young, much younger than our fathers and mothers."
"Shh... keep your voices down. You mustn't speak recklessly about Immortal Masters!"
After entering the courtyard, the children began whispering among themselves.
Yang Lingqing paid no attention to their murmurs. She raised a hand, signaling Yang Feiyun to begin calling names.
But at that moment, a loud voice suddenly rang out from among the children.
"Spineless! Are we South Bank people born inferior to others?"
A tall child spoke in a ringing voice.
His words immediately drew every gaze in the courtyard, and the companions beside him hurriedly tugged at his clothes.
"Zhou Qing! Have you gone mad? Stop talking! Do you want to die?"
"Hmph! I'm going to say it today!"
Zhou Qing shook off his companion's hand.
"All the hard and dangerous jobs are done by us South Bank people. The clan descendants only need to put on a show at most, while the Yang Family sits high above us and reaps the rewards!"
The children standing around him turned pale with alarm upon hearing this and retreated several steps.
"When White Stone Town was rebuilt, South Bank suffered the most injuries and