Chapter 75: The Crimson Roll Hangs High, Heaven’s Golden Radiance! (Part II)

Second Floor of the Cafeteria, Elite Class Dining Area.

Here, the atmosphere exudes elegance; the decor is refined, the lighting bright yet gentle, the air crisp and fresh. Soft music, reminiscent of a café, fills the space—this is the fighter jet among high school cafeterias. In such a gathering place for elites, students are typically quiet and orderly, as if inhabiting a miniature upper-class society.

But today, the air hummed with fervent discussion. Everyone was animatedly debating the unprecedented arithmetic exam, especially the remarkable feat of the so-called “trash class” achieving a perfect score.

Near the floor-to-ceiling windows, a boy sat as if surrounded by stars. His skin was fair, yet his features were bold and masculine; his straight-backed posture suggested both deep composure and towering confidence. He held his class’s grade sheet, eating swiftly and elegantly while scanning the list with an air that was both focused and indifferent.

This was Wang Jinquan from Class One of the second-year, the current president of the student council.

“Wang Jinquan, you really messed up this time!” Another boy approached with his tray, grinning as he greeted Wang Jinquan. “Everyone’s talking about it. They say you’re not as good as Zhou Zhengyang, not as good as Gu Xuechao, not as good as Fang Qingjue—and not even as good as some trash from the trash class! Isn’t that embarrassing? Hahaha!”

Wang Jinquan responded with a smile, appearing the picture of scholarly grace. “No need to be concerned. I was careless and fell short this time, but that doesn’t mean much. I respect Senior Zhou and Senior Gu, and I know of Fang’s reputation.

“As for that student Shi… he’s hardly some troublemaker from the trash class. From what I’ve heard, he’s quite outstanding—top scorer in the entrance exam, known as ‘Top Scholar Shi.’ He’s only in the trash class temporarily, for some reason, to experience life. Losing to such individuals doesn’t strike me as humiliating.”

The other boy burst out laughing. “Come on, Wang Jinquan! No matter how he got there, trash class is trash class. Who’s going to investigate how he ended up there? As the king of the second-year, you got beaten by a nobody from the trash class—this is a real blow, Old Wang! Hahaha!”

Wang Jinquan said nothing further, only watched the boy leave with the same gentle smile.

When the boy had gone, Wang Jinquan’s fingers clenched, crumpling the grade sheet. His brows furrowed, and the scholarly aura gave way to a hint of ferocity. He glared in the direction the boy had gone, then at the grade sheet in his hand, exhaling sharply, lost in thought.

The students seated around Wang Jinquan remained silent throughout, as cautious as if in the presence of a predator.

After a moment, Wang Jinquan slapped the grade sheet onto the table and shifted his gaze to another prime location. There, a solitary figure sat apart from the world.

It was a girl.

She was tall—almost as tall as Wang Jinquan from a distance. Her features were dignified and stern; her expression solemn as she ate at a steady pace—neither hurried nor sluggish, neither impatient nor lazy.

Within this measured rhythm lay a confidence and composure, the kind cultivated only in the true upper echelons of society, a style that won hearts at first sight.

This was the renowned prodigy of the first-year, Fang Qingjue.

Zhou Zhengyang and Gu Xuechao were third-year elites, now away with their classmates at a secret training campus; they could not be seen in this cafeteria. Wang Jinquan could only coolly observe Fang Qingjue from afar, scrutinizing her every move.

She neither looked at the grade sheet nor discussed the exam results with anyone, seemingly unconcerned.

Was this affected aloofness, mere posturing? Or was it true invincibility, a heart untouched?

Wang Jinquan could not discern.

Among all the students in the school, aside from the third-year elites he hadn’t met, Fang Qingjue was the one who pressured him the most.

And now, there was Shi Tiexin.

He wondered what Shi Tiexin was up to. Surely, the boy was already boasting about his achievement in the trash class. The underprivileged always behave this way—any stroke of luck is flaunted with pride. To have beaten the student council president by the smallest margin, such a feat would surely be trumpeted far and wide.

Damn it, this does my reputation no good…

While Wang Jinquan seethed internally, he had no idea that Shi Tiexin, whom he cursed, had no intention whatsoever of boasting in his class—in fact, he didn’t even know he’d scored full marks.

When classes ended that afternoon, Shi Tiexin did catch sight of the grade list. But the crowd was so dense that he couldn’t get near. He glanced from afar, completely baffled—what was this about? Why were so many people gathered? Was this a mass matchmaking event?

He couldn’t understand; the Holy Land of Mind Arts was too mysterious for him.

Looking around, none of those he knew showed any interest in the crowd; those who did were all familiar faces from the elite classes. He guessed it must be some special event exclusive to them, nothing to do with himself.

No need to join the commotion; better hurry to eat, then study natural history—tonight he could advance his mastery!

With that, Shi Tiexin cheerfully entered the cafeteria, had his meal, then headed to the sports field.

Three laps of exercise left him feeling refreshed. The primal energy in his lower abdomen had grown to over ninety strands, swirling and circulating below his navel. Once he gathered a hundred strands, he could condense them, transforming the primal energy into true essence, breaking through the storage phase and formally entering the cultivation stage. If he were to draw a comparison, the storage phase was like moving from unqualified to qualified, while condensation marked the ascent to higher realms.

It was, after all, a small but significant piece of good news.

Feeling motivated, Shi Tiexin moved to the pull-up bars at the edge of the field. He didn’t even need to jump—just reached up and grabbed the bar, his arms unable to fully extend.

Muscles tensed, he did several pull-ups, his body perfectly vertical, all ninety kilograms relying solely on arm strength. He managed ten in one go, his arms growing warm, then released the bar.

He could have done more, but his primal energy was becoming unstable. Another twenty would be fine, but the risk was that the energy might revert to physical strength and dissipate, wasting his effort.

Uncondensed primal energy is easily lost for various reasons—a fight would exhaust it completely. If not for this, Shi Tiexin wouldn't have needed a whole year to first achieve storage.

After shaking out his arms, Shi Tiexin picked up the history book nearby and began studying natural history. He was reading about the modern history of this world line—not that it advanced his studies, but he was deeply interested in the developments after 1919.