Du Cheng offered an apologetic smile and looked down. There was the “dark, scrawny” creature he’d noticed earlier—a Sino Gnome, barely visible above the human-sized desk, with only his small head peeking out. His features were human-like, but his eyes were strikingly large, his ears mere round holes, and his skin an inky black.
Beside his desk stood another Sino Gnome, even shorter than the table, likely his attendant.
“Hello! I’m Semu (Sai Mu), Prince of the Sino Duchy!” The gnome extended a hand, just as dark, with three fingers instead of five.
Du Cheng shook it. “Greetings, I’m Francis, Lord of Lanning! A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness!”
“Oh, you’re too kind. The Sino Duchy is a small place—I don’t rule over much.” Semu’s large eyes twinkled. “The examiner said you’re a titled War God descendant. Which one?”
“My ancestor, Xiglu Saint Kain (Xi Ge Lu Sheng Kai Yin).”
“Wow, the Holy Radiance War God!” Semu’s eyes widened with excitement. He hopped onto his chair, his chest now above the desk. “Xiglu is the spiritual beacon for all fire-magic fighters! I should call you God’s Heir! If we face off in the martial test, please go easy on me!”
“Don’t worry, my opponent won’t be you.” Du Cheng flicked a glance at Kaman.
Semu grinned, his expressive eyes dancing. “The exam’s starting soon—let’s chat later. Um, could you ask your attendant to step back, just behind mine?”
Du Cheng casually told Ariza to move back a step. Instantly, he realized Ariza’s towering two-meter frame blocked Semu and his attendant completely. Even Du Cheng, just a step away, couldn’t see the gnomes—let alone the examiner.
“By the heavens, Semu, you’re not planning to…”
“Heh, esteemed God’s Heir, help a friend out!” Semu peeked through Ariza’s arm, his big eyes pleading in a whisper only they could hear. “My head’s small—can’t memorize much scripture. This is my only shot!”
Du Cheng shrugged, turning away as if he didn’t know them, but he wondered: Does helping someone cheat count as a good deed?
The exam began.
“Candidate Seven, tell your attendant to move away!” an examiner barked at Du Cheng.
Semu’s face fell, his large eyes brimming with panic.
Du Cheng sighed. Might as well see it through. He smiled. “Honored examiner, I’m Francis. You’re from Saint John’s Cathedral, so you’ve likely heard of me—and my servant, Ariza.”
“Oh, that Ariza? Fine, if he’s slow-witted, let it be!”
In truth, the examiner thought: Father Ferdinand instructed us to turn a blind eye unless Francis blatantly copies answers on the table!
Semu exhaled in relief, his shaky breath audible to Du Cheng.
The exam continued.
Tossing down his quill, Du Cheng stretched lazily. Thanks to the Lotus Treasure Mirror’s enhanced memory, he’d breezed through the test.
As he prepared to submit his paper, Semu whispered urgently, voice trembling, “Please, sit a bit longer!”
There was fear in his tone, as if something dire loomed.
This little dark gnome was amusing. With nothing better to do, Du Cheng picked up his quill, pretending to revise. But then, his backside itched—the Lotus Treasure Mirror advanced!
Impossible! Cheating couldn’t be a good deed! Du Cheng, a thief, wasn’t a saint, but he knew right from wrong. Helping someone cheat was not virtuous!
Yet the sensation was unmistakable. The Treasure Mirror declared: You’ve done a good deed!
What the hell? Has the Lotus Treasure Mirror lost all sense of morality? Du Cheng puzzled.
Semu was overwhelmed with gratitude. Sino Gnomes had small brains and poor memory, despite their knack for magic aura. But their pride was immense, tolerating neither scorn nor failure. If Semu failed the written test, even as a prince, he’d face the stake—a Sino Gnome custom.
By shielding him, Du Cheng had indirectly saved his life.
After the exam, Semu stood on his desk, clasping Du Cheng’s hand in thanks. “You’re truly a God’s Heir! On behalf of the Sino Duchy, I thank you!”
“No big deal. I didn’t really do anything.”
“No, you’ve helped me immensely, Francis, God’s Heir! I invite you to visit my duchy in your leisure. All Sino Gnomes will welcome you warmly!”
Du Cheng brushed off the invitation, but Semu’s explanation clarified something: in the Lotus Treasure Mirror’s eyes, doing wrong to save a life counted as a good deed.
Du Cheng wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
As Kaman submitted his paper and left, he shot Du Cheng a taunting smirk. “I’ll be waiting for you in the martial test.”
After the written test, candidates were confined to Verner Palace, housed in military tents outside, tended by their attendants.
In truth, the martial test was the exam’s centerpiece. For War Gods, strength was paramount. Starting the day after the written test, the four thousand-plus candidates were split into twenty groups for paired combat. Across Verner Palace’s spacious corners, twenty elevated platforms were erected as arenas.
Du Cheng was assigned to Group Seven, slated to fight on the first day.
How convenient. No doubt arranged by the Lanning examiner, Minister Widno.
The night before the martial test, Du Cheng toyed with the mysterious necklace in his tent while Ariza snored thunderously nearby. No matter how he looked at it, the droplet in the pendant seemed like a tear—a woman’s tear. It was an odd, baseless intuition, yet unshakable.
“Francis, may I come in?” a voice called softly from outside.
It was Father Ferdinand (Fei Di Nan De).
“Dear Father, what brings you here?” Du Cheng hid the necklace and welcomed the old priest, moving to rouse Ariza but stopped by a gesture.
Ferdinand wore a plain cleric’s robe, his oversized hat obscuring his face. Clearly, he’d come in secret.
Removing his hat, his purple eyebrows knitted tightly. “Francis, titled War God descendants must take the exam once—it’s Church doctrine, and I couldn’t stop you. But I’m worried.”
“Worried about what, dear Father?”
“The Church’s doctrine allows some candidate deaths in the martial test to assess full potential.” He spread his hands. “It’s the law—no one can change it. Starting tomorrow, an opponent might harm you, and then…”
“And then my Guardian War God steps in and flays their entire family?” Du Cheng quipped.
“Exactly. Though your Guardian is a friend of the Church, if he slaughters a Lanning candidate’s family during the exam, it puts us in a bind!”
Ferdinand’s pleading tone puzzled Du Cheng. Was his Guardian War God that formidable, to trouble Lanning’s Father so?
Meanwhile, Ferdinand mused: By the gods, what secrets does Francis hold to have a titled War God as his guardian? The Church’s forensic experts had confirmed the flaying technique belonged to a titled War God, rivaling Xiglu himself. Since the great war, titled War Gods were rarer than virgins in a brothel—countable on one hand: the Pope, the madman at the Academy, and the “Lionheart King” across the Ains Continent.
Which titled War God was idle enough to guard a dim-witted heir?
Regardless, a titled War God was a living deity, not to be crossed lightly. Ferdinand resolved to befriend this figure by ensuring Francis’s safety, lest the War God unleash a flaying spree.
Sitting cross-legged on the tent’s carpet, Ferdinand gave a wry smile, lowering his voice. “Kind child, I must do something regrettable. I hope you’ll cooperate—and keep it secret.”
Du Cheng eyed the troubled priest. “Father, what do you need me to do?”
“Here’s the plan for tomorrow…”
Under Verner Palace’s moonlit night, in a small tent, Lanning’s most revered Father and the Virtue of Saint John’s devised a slightly shameless scheme, drowned out by the beastman descendant Ariza’s thunderous snores.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIWjknrUQEZ
