On the bus.
Jiang Ye looked around and found several unfamiliar faces, not students from their class.
"Those three are from the second year." Wang Ziang, sitting next to him, explained.
Jiang Ye showed a look of surprise.
He knew that students from the advanced class could achieve cultivation technique perfection in the second year.
But it's only January, the first semester of the second year hasn't even ended, and they've already reached perfection?
If it were Jiang Ye, he would still be at the entry stage then.
Wang Ziang folded his arms and said, "What's so surprising about that? In our year, there were five people who reached perfection at this time last year."
"Brother Wang is impressive." Jiang Ye said.
These days, he had clearly understood the other's speaking style.
He rarely spoke, but whenever he did, there was always an implicit challenge.
Take Wang Ziang's words just now as an example, he must be among those five.
