Chapter Forty-Six: Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, and Chrysanthemum

Standing within this grand hall sculpted from ice and snow, almost instantly, Liu Ru recalled the Winter Song hidden within her own body.

Previously, Zhou Yi had said that, regardless of the method used, as long as one could take away any plant from here, one could pass the test smoothly. The only difference was that different means yielded different scores.

But that was something only geniuses seeking top rankings would care about. For those simply wanting to pass, using a sharp tool to dig out or cut off a plant would suffice. Of course, such implements were nearly impossible to bring in, given the body search at the entrance—even a nail clipper was hard to sneak through, let alone something like a fruit knife.

However, spiritual artifacts were not included in the prohibited items.

If she used the Winter Song, she could easily cut through the orchid before her, or, with a little more effort, uproot it entirely. One could call this a design flaw of Nightleaf Academy, but on the other hand, perhaps the academy believed that possessing a spiritual artifact meant you deserved to pass the first trial.

Of course, that only applied to weapon-type artifacts. Support-type artifacts, like the Eye of the Seer, were entirely useless here.

As for the score one would receive for using a spiritual artifact, that was not worth considering—it was obvious it wouldn’t be high.

Liu Ru tightened her grip. This time, she used her full strength—enough to equal the force of a thousand pounds—yet the orchid before her did not budge, nor did the soil beneath it, or even the flowerpot. None of it moved in the slightest.

Clearly, there was something unusual about these objects. Liu Ru ceased her efforts and pondered quietly.

Even if Su Ziye were by her side, he would be of no help now; Su Ziye’s role was that of a pure-hearted youth, so Liu Ru couldn’t turn to him for assistance. In fact, she was supposed to help him pass the exam. In this respect, his decision to leave early was probably for the best—otherwise, she’d be in a rather mortifying predicament.

Liu Ru began to look around. So far, she hadn’t seen anyone succeed in obtaining a single plant to pass the test. The exam had only just started, and according to Zhou Yi, they had a full eight hours to spend here—even lunch was provided, suggesting the academy expected a protracted effort.

But, since no one had succeeded yet, this meant the test was truly difficult.

Some people were still struggling with brute force, but it was clearly not working. Liu Ru’s foundation in the Realm of Object Understanding was solid, yet even she was at a loss. To rely solely on the skills of that realm to extract the plants was nearly impossible.

Others had already sat down cross-legged, lost in thought as they searched for a solution; still others whispered to each other, old friends reuniting before the exam.

While most of those with recommendation letters came from extraordinary backgrounds, none could have predicted the content of the third exam. Even though the words "plum, orchid, bamboo, chrysanthemum" had been announced two days prior, it had little bearing on the challenge ahead.

“So, what should I do?” Liu Ru murmured with a soft laugh, and in that moment, the black blade in her hand flashed.

On the emerald green leaf before her, a delicate scratch appeared in an instant.

…

Su Ziye stood behind the students in black who served the student council, looking entirely out of place.

Here, the walls were still made of ice, but before the student council members, there hung shimmering, translucent water screens, each displaying different angles of the exam hall.

Before their eyes, the masses strove desperately to pass this test that would decide their fate, while the orchestrators watched calmly, observing their struggles.

“Excuse me,” Su Ziye raised his hand, “why am I here?”

“The president’s orders. We’re just following instructions,” someone replied quietly, turning around. “Perhaps Miss Liu Ru made some arrangement with the president.”

“But I wanted to take the exam too,” Su Ziye protested.

“You’ve already passed; there’s no point in participating.” As this was said, someone patted his shoulder. Turning, Su Ziye saw Zhou Yi standing behind him, handing him a form.

“What’s this?” Su Ziye asked.

“See for yourself,” Zhou Yi replied, somewhat reserved.

Looking down, Su Ziye saw his own name and a scoring section.

Su Ziye was instantly flustered. “What is this?”

“Your scoring sheet,” Zhou Yi sighed. “The president’s orders—you can fill in any score you like.”

“A reminder: each of the three trials is worth up to nine points. So, in theory, the highest total is twenty-seven. Except for the nine, the rest of the scores can be anything,” Zhou Yi instructed.

“What do you mean, anything? Could I give myself a one?” Su Ziye asked.

“As long as there’s a score, it’s fine.” Zhou Yi nodded. “Let me put it this way: in Nightleaf’s three trials, in the most extreme case, you could get one point in each, and you’d still be admitted.”

“And, in fact, no one will know your real scores.”

“Is that allowed?” Su Ziye was genuinely shocked. “Has anyone ever gotten just one point in all three?”

In a sense, managing to score in all three, even if only one point each, was rather remarkable.

“Yes,” Zhou Yi replied simply, then pointed to himself. “That person is me.”

“Why aren’t you embarrassed, Senior Zhou Yi?” Su Ziye was impressed. “If it were me, I’d never admit it so boldly.”

“I’m the first in the academy’s history!” Zhou Yi said righteously. “Do you know what that means? Since the three-trial system began, I was the first to be admitted with the lowest possible score. That’s why the president specially recruited me for the student council.”

“And what’s the reason?” Su Ziye asked.

“I’m a rare, special-type mascot,” Zhou Yi confirmed with a nod.

“So, the highest score is twenty-seven?” Su Ziye asked, changing the topic to avoid further awkwardness.

“In theory, yes,” Zhou Yi replied.

“But has anyone ever actually achieved twenty-seven?” Su Ziye inquired.

Zhou Yi shook his head. “In fact, every year, at least one person gets twenty-seven.”

“So why say ‘in theory’? Doesn’t ‘in theory’ mean it’s unattainable?” Su Ziye pressed.

“Because, in truth, the three trials allow for scores higher than twenty-seven,” Zhou Yi replied.

“Higher than the maximum?” Su Ziye was stunned.

“Higher than the maximum,” Zhou Yi nodded. “Do you know why the maximum per trial is nine?”

“Isn’t nine the largest single-digit number?” Su Ziye replied.

“No. Because perfection is always one short—that’s why it’s nine,” Zhou Yi said. “If someone’s performance in all three trials is flawless—so much so that we all agree nine points can’t do them justice—they can be awarded a special extra point. So the highest per trial is ten.”

“So the true maximum is thirty?” Su Ziye asked, nodding.

“No, it’s thirty-one.” Zhou Yi sighed. “If someone manages to earn ten in all three trials, their total is given one more point.”

Zhou Yi looked at Su Ziye. “Thirty-one is the number of perfection in the Celestial Realm. Thirty-one is true completeness.”

“So, has anyone ever scored thirty-one in Nightleaf Academy’s history?” Su Ziye couldn’t help but ask. It was almost unbelievable.

“Only one,” Zhou Yi said simply.

In that instant, Su Ziye knew who it must be.

“Karlotes?” he asked.

“Yes, Karlotes,” Zhou Yi confirmed.

“No wonder you all treat him so differently,” Su Ziye sighed. “How many points do you think I should give myself?”

“Anything but nine,” Zhou Yi repeated.

So, without hesitation, Su Ziye gave himself an eight, then looked at Zhou Yi. “Do I do the same for the next two trials?”

“That’s the president’s instruction. You need at least a score in your file,” Zhou Yi replied.

“Then, can you tell me what this first trial is really about?” Su Ziye asked. “Since I’ve already passed, it’s not against the rules for you to explain, right?”

“You’re already the biggest violation there is. I have no idea what arrangement Miss Liu Ru made with the president to get you this privilege,” Zhou Yi sighed, then continued, “This time, the three trials are unified in theme. The first trial is called Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, and Chrysanthemum, and it’s an assessment of the first stage of cultivation: the Realm of Object Understanding.”

“Of course, it’s not about the specific level of your cultivation in that realm—after all, almost everyone here has graduated from it. As for the few who haven’t, we can’t discriminate against them, can we?”

“The real test is each candidate’s individual aptitude and future path.”

“The flowers used here—plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum—are all ordinary specimens picked from the academy’s garden. If they aren’t damaged during the exam, we’ll replant them afterward,” Zhou Yi explained. “In other words, bringing the flowers out intact so we can replant them is a very important scoring criterion.”

“So, those planning to rely on brute force will almost all score below three points. That’s inevitable.”

“Also, though these are ordinary flowers, during the exam they’re imbued with special powers, making them exceptionally resistant to brute force.”

“Of course, there’s a limit. If someone can use overwhelming strength to succeed, we’ll accept that. But, as I said, we hope the flowers remain unharmed—otherwise, their score won’t be high.”

“If someone can extract a plant with brute force without damaging it, their score will certainly be high—seven or above, perhaps.”

“I see.” Su Ziye nodded. “What about next?”

“Now we come to why the test uses plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum instead of something else,” Zhou Yi continued, ever obliging.

“Is there a difference?” Su Ziye asked.

“Of course,” Zhou Yi replied. “The plum embodies integrity, the orchid, talent; bamboo, resilience; and chrysanthemum, tranquility.”

“What does that have to do with the three trials?” Su Ziye was baffled.

“Originally, nothing,” Zhou Yi smiled at Su Ziye’s puzzled expression. “But as I said, these ordinary flowers are imbued with special powers. To overcome those powers, you need something special.”

“What’s that?” Su Ziye began to understand.

“As I said, this trial tests each candidate’s potential and aptitude. If you wish to pick a plum blossom, its integrity tests your willpower. With focused intent, you’ll endure the pain of ice and cold—the harsher the cold, the higher the quality of the blossom. If the plum accepts you, the protective power dissipates, and you can easily pick the flower to pass. Anyone who passes this way will score at least three points,” Zhou Yi explained.

“Shouldn’t that be explained beforehand?” Su Ziye was exasperated. Shouldn’t this be in the exam instructions?

“As I said, using brute force is also a way to pass,” Zhou Yi replied with a half-smile. “We don’t set a single correct answer. We only tell you what counts as passing. If you can pass by any means, it’s valid. The only difference is how we score it.”

“But isn’t the scoring itself a form of manipulation?” Su Ziye retorted.

“When did we ever claim not to manipulate the test?” Zhou Yi laughed.

Su Ziye was momentarily speechless—after all, he himself was a product of this manipulation.

“What about the rest?” Su Ziye asked.

“The orchid’s subtlety represents talent, the bamboo’s resilience, physical strength; the chrysanthemum’s calm, state of mind,” Zhou Yi summarized. “Each plant presents a different challenge, and the rarer the specimen, the harder the test.”

“Hearing all this, I wish I could go back and try for myself,” Su Ziye sighed.

“Don’t worry—you’d never get an eight. Just stay here and watch the show with us,” Zhou Yi replied, not missing a beat.

“Why not?” Su Ziye protested.

Zhou Yi looked at him and smiled, “Because I’m the one doing the scoring.”