The examination hall buzzed with nervous energy as Cassel College's incoming freshmen gathered for their first formal assessment. The massive auditorium could easily accommodate four or five hundred students, though the actual number present was significantly smaller—a reflection of the college's highly selective admission standards rather than any lack of global interest.
The assembled students represented a fascinating cross-section of international diversity. Caucasian faces dominated the crowd, followed by African and African-American students, with Asian students forming the smallest but most intriguing contingent. This distribution wasn't due to any shortage of Asian mixed-bloods—quite the contrary. China's ancient draconic bloodlines were among the most powerful in the world, but centuries of tradition had taught Chinese mixed-blood families to handle their own affairs independently.
Unlike their European and American counterparts, who'd gradually accepted Cassel College's authority over the past century, Chinese mixed-blood clans maintained fierce independence. They preferred their ancestral compounds and traditional sects to foreign institutions, viewing outside interference with deep suspicion. Only Anjou's legendary reputation and considerable diplomatic skill had managed to secure even limited cooperation from Japanese mixed-blood families—and that relationship remained delicate at best.
Cassel's influence extended across America, Europe, Africa, and Australia with minimal resistance. But in Asia—particularly East Asia—their authority was largely theoretical. Korean mixed-bloods followed orders out of political necessity, while Chinese and other regional powers maintained carefully negotiated partnerships that preserved their autonomy.
Had Chu Zihang's father never disappeared, he would likely have been absorbed into one of China's established mixed-blood organizations, following the traditional path rather than seeking foreign education.
As Chu Zihang entered the examination hall, three individuals immediately caught his attention through the crowd of unfamiliar faces.
The first was Chen Motong—known informally as "Nono"—whose distinctive red hair blazed like flames even under the auditorium's harsh fluorescent lighting. Unlike Chu Zihang's independent arrival at Cassel, her presence represented high-level family politics. Her clan had arranged a strategic alliance with the Gattuso family through marriage negotiations, and her enrollment served as both education and diplomatic gesture.
The second was Lancelot, whose confident bearing and animated conversation with nearby students marked him as a natural leader. Tall, charismatic, and possessed of the easy social grace that came with aristocratic breeding, he carried himself with the unconscious authority of someone who'd never doubted his place in the world. When their eyes met across the room, Chu Zihang recognized a fellow predator—someone equally aware that they might soon be competing for the same positions of influence.
The third student approached him directly, her expression carrying the hopeful nervousness of someone seeking familiar connections in strange surroundings.
"Hello! My name is Susie," she said with carefully practiced pronunciation, her slight accent suggesting she'd learned English as a second language. "I noticed you seem to be from China as well?"
"Yes," Chu Zihang replied with a minimal nod, his naturally reserved demeanor creating an immediate wall between them.
"That's wonderful! There are so few Chinese students in our class, and I was hoping—"
Professor Manstein's commanding voice cut through the auditorium chatter like a blade through silk.
"The 3E examination will commence momentarily. All students must be seated and surrender any electronic devices. Communication between test-takers is strictly forbidden during the examination period."
The head of Cassel's Discipline Committee continued his recitation of standard examination protocols, though everyone present understood these rules would prove largely irrelevant once the true assessment began. Still, institutional traditions demanded proper procedures be observed.
"Test materials will now be distributed," Manstein announced, gesturing to faculty members stationed throughout the hall.
When Chu Zihang received his examination packet, he found himself staring at what appeared to be a practical joke. The "test paper" was completely blank save for a space to write his name at the top—no questions, no instructions, no indication of what was expected.
"How is this possible?" whispered voices emerged from students throughout the hall as they discovered identical blank sheets.
"SILENCE!" Manstein's bellow echoed off the auditorium walls. "Any further disruption will result in immediate examination failure!"
The threat was sufficient to restore order, though confusion remained etched on every visible face.
"The examination will officially commence in five minutes," Manstein declared after consulting his pocket watch with theatrical precision.
Chu Zihang studied the empty paper before him, his analytical mind searching for hidden meanings or invisible ink that might reveal the true test. Behind him, Chen Motong and Susie exchanged meaningful glances—their dormmate relationship had already established non-verbal communication methods that proved useful in uncertain situations.
The five-minute countdown felt interminable, filled with the kind of pregnant silence that precedes momentous events. When time finally expired, Manstein and his faculty colleagues filed out of the hall with measured steps, leaving the bewildered students entirely alone.
The abandonment sparked fresh waves of nervous murmuring until an unexpected sound silenced every voice.
Piano music began flowing through hidden speakers—the hauntingly beautiful melody of "Dream Wedding," performed with technical perfection and emotional depth that made hearts ache with its sweetness. Chu Zihang recognized the piece immediately, though he couldn't identify its source or purpose within this strange examination.
Then something changed. A subtle discord crept into the melody—syllables that weren't quite music, sounds that bypassed conscious thought to strike directly at deeper levels of awareness. The auditorium seemed to shimmer and dissolve, reality bending like heat waves rising from summer pavement.
Suddenly, Chu Zihang was no longer at Cassel College.
He stood once again on that rain-soaked overpass, watching his father make the ultimate sacrifice. Chu Tianjiao charged toward a pack of dragon thralls variants with nothing but a combat knife and desperate courage, buying precious seconds for his son's escape. In the distance, mounted on his eight-legged steed Sleipnir, Odin raised the legendary spear Gungnir with divine precision.
"No!" Chu Zihang's voice tore from his throat as he watched the eternal spear pierce his father's chest, watched blood bloom across the rain-darkened concrete, watched the light fade from eyes that looked one final time toward their son.
"Run, boy! Run!" Chu Tianjiao's last words echoed across dimensions and time.
The scene shifted without transition, replacing tragedy with ocean combat. Now Chu Zihang witnessed Gustave and Po's incredible battle against Kaido, the Beast King whose dragon form commanded storms and earthquakes with casual malevolence. Gustave's electromagnetic transformation into a hundred-meter lightning giant clashed against scales and fangs that had terrorized the New World for decades, while Po's Haki-infused fists carried the hopes of everyone aboard the Bamboo Staff.
The moment of impact between the three combatants created a flash of pure white light that erased sight, sound, and sensation entirely.
While students grappled with visions drawn from their deepest memories and fears, Principal Anjou and Vice Principal Flammel observed the proceedings from the administrative office's comfortable seating area.
"What classification do you predict for Tianjiao's son?" Flammel asked, his characteristically relaxed posture a sharp contrast to the formal setting.
"Difficult to say with certainty," Anjou replied thoughtfully. "Based on genetic analysis, most likely A-level. His mother was completely ordinary, after all, which typically limits the expression of draconic traits."
Chu Tianjiao's deployment to China had been Anjou's personal decision, motivated by intelligence suggesting a possible Dragon King presence in the region. China's political sensitivity required their most capable operative—someone with both exceptional abilities and the diplomatic skills to avoid international incidents. Sending an S-level mixed-blood had been the only viable option.
"True enough," Flammel sighed. "His mother's mundane heritage was... surprising. Tianjiao's romantic choices always defied practical considerations. We were all shocked when he announced his marriage to that ordinary woman."
Their conversation was interrupted by movement visible through the office's observation windows. In the examination hall below, a single student had begun showing signs of consciousness while others remained deep in their induced visions.
"Professor Manstein," one of the monitoring faculty reported through their communication system, "Student Chu Zihang appears to have completed the examination. His recovery time meets S-level parameters."
"Speed alone doesn't determine classification," Manstein replied carefully, though his voice carried obvious excitement. "S-level requires both rapid processing and perfect accuracy. We'll need to analyze his written responses before making any determinations."
Chu Zihang had indeed awakened, finding himself staring at a test paper covered in strange symbols and text he couldn't remember writing. The script looked vaguely runic, filled with angular characters that seemed to shift and writhe when viewed directly.
Looking around the auditorium, he discovered he was alone in consciousness. Every other student remained locked in their visions, hands moving across blank papers as they transcribed whatever revelations played behind their closed eyes.
Minutes later, Chen Motong stirred to awareness, her red hair disheveled and her expression carrying the disorientation of someone returning from profound depths. She spotted Chu Zihang immediately, noting his alert observation of their classmates' continued unconsciousness.
Lancelot awakened third, his aristocratic composure somewhat shaken by whatever he'd experienced. Susie followed shortly after, blinking rapidly as she processed her return to mundane reality.
The four conscious students regarded each other across the silent auditorium, each wondering what the others had seen, each uncertain what their shared early awakening might signify.
When the examination period finally concluded, Professor Manstein returned with his staff to collect the papers and dismiss the exhausted students.
"Test results will be announced in three days," he declared with bureaucratic efficiency. "Until then, continue with your normal academic schedules."
As students filed out with varying degrees of confusion and fatigue, Chu Zihang gathered his belongings and headed for the library—his preferred refuge when processing complex experiences.
"Wait!" Susie's voice called after him as he reached the auditorium exit.
"You never told me your name," she explained when he turned back.
"Chu Zihang," he replied simply before continuing his departure.
"Susie, are you developing feelings for our mysterious classmate?" Chen Motong teased, having witnessed the exchange with obvious amusement.
"Don't be ridiculous, Nono!" Susie protested, though her flushed cheeks suggested the accusation wasn't entirely baseless. "I was just being friendly to a fellow Chinese student!"
Meanwhile, Professor Manstein had already separated Chu Zihang's examination paper from the rest, rushing it directly to the principal's office for immediate analysis. The symbols covering the page were indeed S-level draconic script—ancient, powerful, and perfectly transcribed despite the writer's apparent unconsciousness during the process.
That evening, Chu Zihang returned to his dormitory with plans for an early rest and serious contemplation of his future training needs. Regardless of his examination results, he'd already decided to seek passage back to the Bamboo Staff for continued development under Gustave and Po's guidance.
His preparations were interrupted by an insistent knock at the door.
"What do you want, Finger?" he asked wearily, recognizing his persistent neighbor's characteristic rhythm.
"Junior brother, I have news you'll definitely want to hear!" Finger's voice carried the conspiratorial excitement of someone in possession of valuable secrets.
Chu Zihang simply closed the door without responding. He'd learned that engaging with Finger's information trades only encouraged more elaborate schemes.
The second knock came moments later, but this time the visitor was Stroev rather than the notorious gossip broker.
"Senior Brother, what brings you here?" Chu Zihang asked, genuinely surprised by the Lionheart Society president's personal visit.
"Junior Brother Chu Zihang," Stroev began with formal gravity, "I've come to extend a definitive invitation for you to join the Lionheart Society. If you accept, I'm prepared to step down from leadership immediately, making you our new president."
The offer was so unexpected that Chu Zihang momentarily lost his composure. "Why would you do that?"
"Because, junior brother," Finger's voice interrupted as his head popped around the doorframe like a jack-in-the-box, "you've been classified as S-level!"
"Didn't Professor Manstein say results wouldn't be announced for three days?" Chu Zihang asked, though he was beginning to suspect the truth.
"General results for all freshmen will be announced publicly in three days," Finger confirmed with obvious glee. "But your examination paper was personally graded by Principal Anjou this very afternoon. S-level classifications receive immediate processing due to their rarity and importance."
"And how exactly did you obtain this confidential information?" Chu Zihang continued his interrogation.
"Junior brother, I've been at this school for quite some time. Acquiring advance intelligence on significant developments is hardly beyond my capabilities," Finger replied with his most insufferably knowing smile.
Before Chu Zihang could respond, another voice joined the conversation from the hallway.
"Junior Brother Chu Zihang, would you consider joining the Student Union instead?"
Caesar Gattuso stood in the doorway with casual confidence, his golden hair catching the corridor lighting as he observed the recruitment competition with obvious amusement. The Student Union president's timing was impeccable—arriving just as his primary rival made their most aggressive offer.
Chu Zihang looked between the two organization leaders, each representing different aspects of Cassel College's power structure. The Lionheart Society embodied traditional values and martial excellence, while the Student Union controlled contemporary campus politics and social influence.
"I'll give both of you my answer in three days," he said finally, his diplomatic response satisfying neither recruiter while avoiding immediate commitment. "For tonight, I need rest and time to consider my options properly."
Caesar and Stroev exchanged measuring glances before reluctantly accepting the delay. Neither was accustomed to having their offers require extended consideration, but S-level mixed-bloods possessed enough inherent value to justify patient courtship.
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