Chapter Eleven: Level Six, Level Five

The young apricots had shed their fuzz, now tinged with the blush of early summer, while pomegranate blossoms ignited the fervent hems of skirts.

With May behind them, the college entrance examinations loomed ever closer. Zhao Rui reluctantly set aside his “training partner” duties to focus wholeheartedly on his studies.

The entire school atmosphere grew solemn and quiet, permeated by a tense energy.

Even the number of students lingering or exercising on the playground dwindled considerably.

“Our class’s third mock exam results were quite poor. Currently, only about ten students have met the undergraduate cutoff scores. I hope the rest will intensify their revision and quickly improve their grades…” The homeroom teacher, Xue Maohua, spoke earnestly to the class.

“Ah, I’ve long been given up on by the teachers!” Yang Fan sighed softly. Truth be told, he wanted to do well too—who’s born wanting to slack off?

“Nonsense!” Zhao Rui chuckled lightly. Yang Fan had no real intention to study; after all, his father had already secured a university for him. If Zhao Rui’s father were wealthy, he too would choose to lie low.

Who wouldn’t want to eat, drink, and be merry instead of striving endlessly?

“In a few days, the school will gather for graduation photos. Everyone prepare yourselves, and if you have any suggestions, feel free to discuss them with the teachers in advance. Class leaders, please convene the student officers to plan!” The homeroom teacher finished arranging the photo session for next week and left the classroom.

Instantly, lively chatter filled the room.

“Graduation photos, huh? I need to style my hair nicely!”

“No need. No hairstyle looks good!”

“Damn!”

“Should we buy matching outfits or wear school uniforms?”

“School uniforms—it’s more symbolic!”

“I still think buying matching clothes is better!”

For graduating seniors, the graduation photo was an important affair.

After three years of shared high school memories, with only a month left before everyone scattered, the feelings of nostalgia and reluctance overflowed.

“Zhao Rui! By the time of the graduation photos, Luo Min should be back, right? How about I prepare a confession ceremony for you?” Yang Fan raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Zhao Rui, are you going to confess to Luo Min?” Sun Tiantian from the front row suddenly turned, her gaze intensely fixed on Zhao Rui.

The girl’s feelings were laid bare in that moment.

“No way! Don’t listen to Yang Fan’s nonsense!” Zhao Rui shot Yang Fan a glare, then turned to the girl and said casually.

He wasn’t deliberately explaining himself—he simply had no interest in Luo Min. Whether before or after regaining memories from his past life, he never felt anything for this so-called “peerless beauty” admired by all.

Most likely, his aesthetic preferences just didn’t align.

Yes, there was a certain resemblance to Guan Xiao from his past life—she was also good-looking, with a flawless figure, especially those long legs, simply perfect.

But still, there was no urge to feel anything beyond that.

“Really? Then, who in our class do you like?” Sun Tiantian tucked stray hair behind her ear, her cheeks faintly flushed, yet she feigned nonchalance.

“I don’t have anyone I like. If I did…” Zhao Rui paused, and the girl’s expression tightened as she hesitated nervously, “Who?”

“Of course, Wu Dao!” Zhao Rui smiled mischievously.

“Ugh, Wu Dao’s not even a girl!” Sun Tiantian immediately realized Zhao Rui was teasing and protested.

“Zhao Rui, Sun Tiantian, you two enough! Have you considered the feelings of the rightful owner here?”

“Ugh, who’s the rightful owner?” Sun Tiantian frowned and playfully glared at Yang Fan.

“Obviously, I’m Rui’s main squeeze! Right, Rui? I like you so much!” Yang Fan twisted his waist and curled his fingers, striking a coquettish pose. His slightly stout figure made Sun Tiantian burst out laughing as she grabbed a textbook and tossed it at him.

“Disgusting! Ugh!”

“You’re the disgusting one!”

Yang Fan retorted without yielding.

“Stop, stop! I can’t take it anymore!” Zhao Rui suddenly felt goosebumps rise all over.

“You heartless scoundrel! You have Tiantian, so you don’t want me anymore!” Yang Fan’s teasing grew more rampant.

At that moment, a commotion arose at the classroom door.

“Did you know? Xu Chongming has broken through to a sixth-level martial artist!”

“Who?”

“A student from Class Two. Usually low-key, but when he strikes, it’s a royal flush!”

The voices from outside carried clearly into every corner of the classroom.

“No way! Seriously? I know that Xu Chongming—he was only fourth-level last year!”

“Really? Then he’s amazing!”

Those familiar with him whispered excitedly.

The class was filled with martial arts students; even the weakest possessed better-than-average hearing due to their qi cultivation.

Instantly, the topic shifted from graduation photos to discussions about the sixth-level martial artist.

Ordinary undergraduate martial arts students needed to reach at least level two, usually level three.

At that strength, excelling academically was still necessary to enter college; without meeting cultural course standards, university admission was impossible.

Fourth-level martial artists were somewhat in-between. Students at this tier might have certain universities lower their academic thresholds to admit them preferentially, or they might compete for admission through regular scores.

However, they met the recruitment requirements for key universities’ martial arts programs and had a chance to enter prestigious institutions.

Fifth-level martial artists were definitely at key university standards and might receive preferential score reductions.

Once reaching sixth-level, academic scores mattered little; as long as you weren’t a slacker, you could choose any top university.

At seventh-level, admission was no longer the issue—it was about which school you wished to attend.

This system was somewhat analogous to the college entrance exam or sports championships from Zhao Rui’s previous life, except that martial arts replaced athletic specialties, and the imperial court valued it even more.

Hearing the conversation, Zhao Rui clenched his fists quietly.

He had previously been at level three. Through system upgrades and his own training, his Cloud Hand Star Picking technique was at a critical point.

With just one more upgrade, he would reach mastery.

That level corresponded to a strength above fourth-level martial artist.

With one month left before the exams, he could fully replicate the Wing Chun’s Path and his senior brother’s Cloud Hand Star Picking technique.

Adding two more upgrade points.

“Level four!” Zhao Rui felt a surge of eager anticipation.

“I’m only level two. Sigh, no contest!” Yang Fan sighed, feeling somewhat frustrated. How could they be so different, when they were both human?

“If it’s about fat, no one beats you!” Xiao Xue, who hadn’t turned around before, spoke softly with a gentle voice.

“…”

“Ha ha!” Sun Tiantian laughed heartily, echoing, “Yeah, yeah! Yang Fan, you do have your strengths!”

“Enough, enough!” Yang Fan’s face darkened; he snorted and said, “Women and petty men are the hardest to please!”

“Ha ha!”

…