Chapter Thirty: Final Exams

Lin Qi paid little heed to Haolin’s threats. Though he had become more cautious, he truly didn’t take Haolin seriously. Would the Baville family really risk everything and mobilize their entire force against him just for Black Horse House? Lin Qi didn’t believe they would. The Baville family was a military noble house—their strength was not something to be deployed lightly. As for revenge from Black Horse House? If it was only an act of personal vengeance, why should Lin Qi be concerned?

Thus, the matter passed. The tavern fire that had startled the empire’s upper echelons faded into history. Black Horse House and several core members of the Round Table Knights remained peacefully at the Army Academy; they had received only stern warnings from certain quarters. However, over eighty Round Table Knights who had been drugged and knocked out in the tavern faced severe punishment—they were forced to leave school early and join the Empire’s most grueling and deadly force: the North Sea Border Army.

The North Sea Border Army, stationed primarily at the main battlefield fortress of the Land-Island Wars—Norman Battlehold—was tasked with defending against the orcs, giants, and other evil beings from the Five Linked Isles. It was truly the front line. As students of the Army Academy, had these eighty-odd individuals graduated, they would have entered the Border Army as junior officers. But now, expelled from the academy, they could only enlist as ordinary soldiers—and their records bore a conspicuous black mark.

Lin Qi had thus gained a new group of sworn enemies. But this didn’t bother him; why should he care about a bunch of unfortunates likely to be hacked to pieces by a berserk orc’s battle-axe at any moment?

“Oh, the North Sea Border Army? Ten gold coins to grease the right palms, and those idiots will be slaughtered in the next orc raid! Don’t trouble yourself over them—they won’t last long!” This was Yulian’s first reaction on hearing the news. Even Enzo agreed—after all, the Border Army’s daily casualty rate of forty percent was no joke.

So, the incident faded away. Lin Qi merely watched out for revenge from Black Horse House, but he did not feel truly anxious.

Time slipped by. Two weeks later, the final examinations began at Bryley’s many universities.

At the Army Academy, the examinations included not only strategy but also practical exercises. Enzo, along with the Seven Swordsmen in Blood, formed a small squad. Under the supervision of a dedicated instructor, they left Bryley for a week-long wilderness survival test—a mandatory part of their finals. They would survive for seven days in the randomly chosen wilds, hunting at least ten qualified beasts and one extraordinarily powerful magical creature amidst the snow and ice.

As a third-year student in the accounting department of the Fifth University, Lin Qi, though he had struck up an excellent personal relationship with Mr. Grant and had been promised top marks along with his band of rowdy friends, still had to go through the motions.

Slumped over his desk, Lin Qi gazed absentmindedly at the beautifully printed exam paper before him. The quality of the final exam papers far surpassed that of the indulgence slips peddled by Father Baring—at least tenfold. Not only was the paper smooth and supple, but the print was also crisp and clear. Holding his goose-feather pen, Lin Qi tapped the tip against the paper, slowly sketching the head of a small, peculiar beast.

This beast’s head was serpentine, filled with razor-sharp teeth—the very same odd creature Lin Qi had seen embroidered on the robes of Jiang Yong and his companions. He seemed to recall seeing such a beast somewhere before, knowing it held a unique status in the East, symbolizing some special kind of power or authority.

But what was this beast called?

Around him, his classmates were scribbling furiously. There were only five questions on the paper, but each was a daunting comprehensive essay. The first question, for instance, was: “The devastation wrought upon the continent’s economy by the Century-Long Land-Island War, and the resulting changes in Imperial postwar tax law—what were they?”

Lin Qi thought the professor who set these questions must have a screw loose. They were accounting students; all they needed to know was how to make money, how to earn even more money, and how to keep anyone else from making a single coin off them. Why on earth did they need to know about the problems of the Land-Island War?

A war that had ended thirty years ago, after a century of conflict! Heaven help them—may a thunderbolt strike down the professor who set this paper. What did the devastation of the continental economy during the Land-Island War have to do with Lin Qi? All he knew was that during that war, his family’s wealth, under the stewardship of his grandfather, great-grandfather, and even earlier ancestors, had increased thirty-fivefold.

Did the war destroy the continental economy? Lin Qi simply didn’t see it.

On the contrary, he clearly remembered his father, Blackbeard, grumbling in his youth: “Century-Long War? That was a real man’s golden era! By the end, a loaf of black bread could fetch five silver coins. Dear Lin Qi, five silver coins for a single loaf of black bread! There’s never been a better time to make a fortune than during the Land-Island War.”

If black bread was so profitable, what need to mention the slaves his family shipped from Dunkirk Port to the Five Linked Isles, or the orc and giant slaves they brought back in exchange? It truly was a blazing, bustling era, when real men could make a fortune with ease.

But now? Thirty years after the war, his father even had to worry about selling the wheat in their warehouse!

Land-Island War—a wonderful phrase. Lin Qi sighed. When would the next Century-Long Land-Island War break out? Would he, in his lifetime, see such a glorious era for true men again?

Forcing aside these sudden musings, Lin Qi carefully sketched the long, snake-like creature from Jiang Yong’s robe, following his memory. He frowned and sighed bitterly. That damn Jiang Yong turned out to be a Celestial Knight.

What rotten luck—Jiang Yong was a Celestial Knight. If he and his followers were all at least Earth Knights, then Lin Qi’s little Iron Fist Brotherhood stood no chance. Their strongest members were himself, Yulian, Enzo, and the Seven Swordsmen in Blood. The rest were just muscle for bullying commoners and ordinary students; pitted against a Celestial Knight, they’d just be throwing their lives away.

It seemed he’d have to give up on that fat, juicy lamb.

Such a pity, to let such succulent prey slip away.

After a week of Lin Qi’s ceaseless lamentations, the final exams for the Fifth University’s accounting department finally drew to a close.