In the assessment center stood seven enormous boards—each one displaying a group of contestants according to their cultivation rank.
For Agnes, it wasn't difficult to locate his placement. He was under the Disciple Rank. Leorin, on the other hand, stood proudly among the Adept Level cultivators.
Many onlookers scanned the boards out of curiosity, hoping to find Agnes's name. When they finally did and saw his rank, laughter broke out.
"Rumors are just rumors, I guess," one cultivator scoffed.
Agnes sighed in relief. He didn't want strong opponents. Getting wrecked on day one wasn't on his to-do list.
Leorin strutted over to him, practically radiating superiority. "Look who's stronger now," she said, arms crossed and face smug.
Agnes gave her a blank look. "Sorry, I can't hear your flexing over the buzzing of these damn drones."
Meanwhile, Zenith and Ulam stood in another section of the courtyard, watching Agnes from afar.
Zenith raised an eyebrow. "That red-haired kid... how is he only at Disciple Rank?"
Ulam folded his arms thoughtfully. "I'd say he suppressed his Qi, but these ranks are determined by blood analysis. Unless someone else controlled him during the entrance exam... it doesn't add up. But who?"
Before they could continue, a massive hologram blinked into the sky above. The smooth, ridiculous voice of the gentleman ape reporter echoed across the area.
Agnes squinted and groaned. "Ugh, this drone's giving me a headache. Is there a mute button or what?"
The ape responded as if on cue, "Ah yes, dear contestant. To adjust the volume settings, please press the button beneath your drone marked with a screen symbol. A hologram will appear. Tap the three lines in the top right corner to access 'Device Profile' and select 'Silent Mode.' Your drone will then go silent—and invisible."
Within seconds, everyone scrambled to mute their drones.
The ape cleared his throat dramatically. "Hello again, contestants! Just a quick announcement. The tournament will officially begin the day after tomorrow at 9 a.m. All matches will be broadcast via hologram across all realms. Prepare accordingly. Tee-hee-heya!"
Excited chatter spread across the plaza. Leorin regrouped with her sectmates to train.
Agnes, meanwhile, wandered back to his room, still mildly confused. He checked his tools, rewrote his backup plan four times, and then accidentally spilled tea on all of them.
The Next Day
Agnes arrived at the coliseum looking as disheveled and unbothered as ever. Multiple coliseums loomed ahead, each categorized by rank. The higher the rank, the more absurd the battlegrounds became. For Grandmasters and above, entire separate battlefields had been booked. For Sages and Transcendents, the organizers even generated an artificial planet complete with an ecosystem.
Agnes glanced at the sky and mumbled, "And here I am, stuck in Tutorial Island."
Invisible drones hovered above every arena, displaying the battle rules in bold glowing text:
1) Each match lasts 10 minutes.
2) There will be six rounds in total.
3) If no one is knocked out, winners are decided by the judges.
4) Any item above Silver Tier is strictly prohibited.
Agnes frowned. "Good luck?? My ass. This feels like final exams all over again... Should I fight like Mike Tyson or Bruce Lee?"
Out of boredom, he fiddled with his drone and stumbled upon a search feature.
He typed: Item Tiers.
The hologram blinked to life:
[HOLOGRAM SCREEN – QUERY: "Item Tiers"]
Universal Artifact Tiering System (UATS-9.1)
1) GOLD TIER: Supreme artifacts forged from celestial essence or divine remains. These items can alter reality, control domains, or challenge fate itself. Often used to maintain world balance.
2) DIAMOND TIER: Immaculately forged items with perfect synergy and purpose. Grant mastery over a specific concept—space, time, emotion, or will.
3) JADE TIER: Ethereal relics infused with spiritual resonance. Used for enlightenment, astral projection, or divine communication. Mystical rather than destructive.
4) SILVER TIER: High-grade magical gear used by elite warriors, elders, or top sect disciples. Strong, dependable, and often personalized.
5) BRONZE TIER: Advanced enchanted items suitable for seasoned cultivators. Common in major sects but still coveted.
6) IRON TIER: Mass-produced enchanted equipment. Reliable, though not exceptional.
7) STONE TIER: Low-tier magical items for beginners. May have one or two minor effects.
8) WOOD TIER: Training tools, ceremonial gear, or peasant-grade implements. Magical only in name.
Agnes stared, wide-eyed. "They have a Google... for cultivation. Why would anyone even go to class?"
Suddenly, the drone pinged with a Tu-tu-tutu chime. A bell icon appeared with a message:
[Notification: Your battle is about to start. Please enter the arena.]
Agnes dashed out. He tried asking staff about his opponent but got stonewalled by protocol.
He entered the battlefield, where a young boy awaited him. The kid looked like he belonged on a noble family—sparkly robes, pristine hair, and posture like he invented etiquette.
Spectators filled the stands, and countless drones floated above, broadcasting the battle live across all three realms.
Agnes bowed. "My name is Agne—cough—I mean... Red."
The boy smiled. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Red. I am Deren von Easter Lars Ell Operna... and a few more names you won't remember."
Agnes blinked. "Yeahhh... I'll just call you Mr. East."
Mr. East chuckled. "That works."
A magical bell rang, silencing the audience.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" a male commentator shouted through a magically-enhanced microphone. "I'm Yappa Erne!"
"And I'm Urika Vengur!" his energetic co-host chimed in.
Yappa unrolled a scroll. "Let's introduce the contestants! The red one is called—uh—'Red'!"
A floating screen highlighted footage of Agnes captured by the drone.
The video began with Agnes lying on a bed with creaky mattress in a shabby rented house. [Rented using Lucian's emergency funds.]
9:00 a.m.
Agnes's eyes fluttered open with a dead stare. Instead of simply getting out of bed, he chose the path of least resistance—he rolled off the side like a sack of potatoes, landing with a soft thud.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stood up sluggishly, yawning like an exhausted koala. Then, in a scene that made the entire arena go silent, he casually slid his hand into his pants and scratched his... lone surviving ball.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
He whispered something inaudible—then proceeded to sniff his hand.
Audience: "EEEEWWWW—"
Instead of heading to the bath, he reached for a bottle of suspiciously strong perfume and sprayed himself generously, clearly trying not to mess up the paint on his face.
With unmatched confidence, Agnes walked into the kitchen, grabbed a chipped kettle, and began brewing tea—without washing his hands.
The entire coliseum erupted in laughter, while Agnes buried his face in his hands.
Agnes facepalmed. "Thank god I didn't take my pants.. I mean paint off and rented a place to live."
Yappa hesitated, squinting at the scroll. "And the other one… what even is this name—cough—His name is…"
Before he could butcher it, Mr. East raised a hand and struck a noble pose. "Please, just call me... Mr. East."
Yappa exhaled in relief. "Much appreciated."
Both commentators shouted in unison, "LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!"
The crowd erupted.
"But what about my highlights" shouted Mr. East.