Courtyard, Soaring Academy.
Those who had passed the trials were arranged in neat lines, with more lines forming as others joined.
Each person stood in anticipation, their gazes fixed on the instructors positioned at the front, waiting for them to finally speak.
Feng Shen stood with an air of effortless confidence, a toothpick rolling between his lips as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
To his right was his personal servant. On his left, his little maid clung closely.
Not far from the trio, the Ninth Princess lingered, her posture elegant yet subtly restless, her gaze flickering toward the demon as though she was worried he would look in her direction.
After all, Hè Jun had hoped she had done a good job.
She had taken it upon herself—or rather, had discreetly ordered it done—to spread the rumors far and wide.
