My Soul card is a Reaper

"Remember," Qin Yutong continued, his voice low, "before locating the Blood of the Holy Spirit, keep a low profile. Do not reveal yourselves. I can cover for you here in Western Mansion, but only to a certain extent. Once inside the Holy Land, ordinary candidates with Exalt cultivation should pose no threat to you. Under normal circumstances, this mission should be simple."

The candidate with the black mole hesitated briefly, then spoke again. "Hall Master, there is one thing. I'm not sure whether to mention it."

"Speak," Qin Yutong said.

"Today, a candidate rose to second place on the Western Mansion Outer House rankings," the man said carefully. "I don't know if the hall master is aware of this."

"I know," Qin Yutong replied. "I personally checked the ranking. A candidate reaching second place is indeed rare. But what does that have to do with our mission?"

"According to our intelligence," the candidate said, "the top one hundred of the Outer House are all at Upper Exalt level or above. This candidate's presence could become a variable. If we encounter him, it may complicate matters."

Qin Yutong fell silent, pondering.

"You're right," he finally said. "Although all of you possess Upper Exalt-rank strength, unforeseen variables are always dangerous. This candidate is indeed a risk."

After a moment, he reached into his robe and produced a small jade bottle.

"This is a Mad Demon Heart," Qin Yutong said. "It can temporarily raise one's cultivation to the Lord rank expert level. Take it. If that candidate truly becomes an obstacle, use this. No matter how monstrous his talent is, he won't be able to contend with a Lord rank expert."

The candidate with the black mole accepted the jade bottle, his face lighting up with excitement. "We will not fail the hall master's expectations!"

"Good," Qin Yutong nodded. "With this, the mission should be foolproof."

After finalizing the details, the group dispersed silently. Qin Yutong returned openly to Qiangong, while the twenty-three candidates melted back into the Yongbing Courtyard, hiding themselves among the masses.

With Qin Yutong's status, no one would ever suspect him. As for the Jade Emperor Division, their ordinary appearances ensured they would never stand out among the Western District candidates.

Thus, without anyone realizing it, a shadowy conspiracy slowly spread, casting its net over the candidates about to enter Western Mansion.

…

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye.

On this day, Western Mansion's annual entrance examination finally arrived.

All candidates who had obtained qualification tokens gathered at Shuangyong Square in the heart of Western Mansion, standing at the threshold where fate would be decided.

For seven full days, Ryan caused no further disturbances. He did not wander around Western Mansion, nor did he stir up attention. Instead, he stayed quietly in his courtyard, calling Mu Xianling into the room every day and ordering her to cook.

And to Ryan's surprise, the food actually became edible.

The relationship between the two also warmed rapidly during these ordinary days. Mu Xianling was no longer as stiff or resistant as before. She still complained, but her movements were quicker, her temper softer, and her eyes carried an unconscious warmth.

Most importantly, her cooking skills improved by leaps and bounds.

At the very least, she now remembered to add salt.

And the rice no longer burned into charcoal.

This alone was already a miraculous breakthrough.

Because Ryan kept such a low profile, the shock caused by the mysterious candidate with temporary number 59416 gradually faded. People still talked about it from time to time, but the heat was no longer overwhelming.

The Palace of Fighting in Dui Palace returned to its usual rhythm. Fewer people crowded the viewing hall, fewer eyes searched the crowd. Time diluted everything.

And just like that, seven days passed.

Western Mansion's annual entrance examination finally arrived.

…

Shuangyong Square.

The central square of Dui Palace was vast beyond imagination. Even with tens of thousands of people gathered, it did not appear crowded in the slightest.

Under the guidance of elders from each region, all qualified candidates were led into the square and arranged into four massive formations.

On the far left stood the Eastern District.

Three thousand candidates stood in neat ranks. Their backs were straight, chins lifted, faces full of pride and confidence, as if entering Western Mansion was already a certainty.

Next was the Western District.

Also three thousand strong, but unlike the Eastern District's outward arrogance, the Western District candidates carried a heavy, solemn aura. Few spoke. Their expressions were serious, eyes sharp, like blades sheathed but ready.

The third formation belonged to the Southern District.

Likewise, numbering three thousand, their overall presence was weaker than the first two, but still impressive. At the very least, compared to the fourth formation, they looked overwhelmingly dominant.

The final formation was the Northern District.

Led by Elder Lu, the Northern District candidates stood tall and energetic. Yet no matter how firm their posture, the disparity was impossible to hide.

There were only a little over five hundred of them.

Once, they had numbered more than seven hundred. But after encountering the Sky-Devouring Thief, more than two hundred had died on the road. Even strong experts from Western Mansion had fallen.

Now, compared to the other regions, the Northern District formation looked painfully small.

Pitiful, even.

Yet despite this, none of the Northern District candidates showed discouragement.

Because they all knew one thing.

Though they were few, they had hope.

Among them stood a presence capable of turning fate itself upside down.

And that presence was Ryan.

"Those are the Northern District candidates? Just as shabby as the rumors say."

"Barely five hundred people. And look at their cultivation, it's laughable."

"Coming from a barren land, what do you expect? I heard they lost over two hundred people to a Sky-Devouring Thief. Serves them right."

"They should've all died together. Coming here only wastes Western Mansion's resources."

"Look at them, standing so confidently. It's disgusting. Haven't they learned anything after losing so many people?"

"Hah, once they enter the secret realm, reality will teach them what despair is."

"Yes, let's teach them how to be human inside the secret realm."

"After that, they'll regret not dying back then!"

"Hahahaha…"

Mocking whispers spread through the Southern District formation like poison.

Because the two formations stood close, every word reached the ears of the Northern District candidates.

Fists clenched.

Teeth ground.

Eyes burned with fury.

The Sky-Devouring Thief was a scar carved into their souls. A pain they would never forget. And now, others were digging into that wound and laughing.

Several Northern District candidates were about to step forward—

When Elder Lu's gaze stopped them cold.

"Respect is not begged for," Elder Lu said calmly. "Nor is dignity earned through shouting. If you want others to fear you, rely on strength, not anger."

"Winning a verbal exchange today means nothing. Failing the entrance exam means everything."

His words were like cold water poured over raging flames.

The Northern District candidates took deep breaths and turned away, forcing themselves to endure.

They understood.

Arguing now was meaningless.

Strength would decide everything.

At that moment, Ryan stepped forward.

His voice was not loud, nor was it sharp. It was steady, calm, and unadorned.

Yet it echoed clearly through the Northern District formation.

"Relax," Ryan said. "I will prove one thing to everyone."

"Anyone can be trash."

"But the candidates of the Northern District are not."

Silence.

Then—

"Anyone can be trash? Isn't that exactly the North District?" someone scoffed loudly. "Hahaha, listen to that confidence. I'm laughing already."

"That idiot who said that, who do you think you are?" another voice mocked. "You think you're the one who rushed to second place on the leaderboard? You don't even know what you are."

"These country bumpkins really are country bumpkins. Who gave you this kind of courage?" someone added, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief.

"Hahaha, forgive me for laughing a little longer. I was almost scared by the honeyed confidence of the North District candidates," another person said with deliberate sarcasm.

"They're pitiful, really," came yet another voice. "Living at the bottom of a well and thinking the sky is just that big. Hurry up and climb out to see the real world. It's too ignorant."

The mocking voices overlapped one after another, spreading through the Southern District formation like a tide of ridicule. Laughter rang out without restraint, sharp and unpleasant, aimed squarely at the Northern District candidates.

Yet the Northern District candidates did not respond.

They did not shout back, nor did they trade insults. They stood still, faces calm, eyes steady. They knew that words meant nothing here. Sooner or later, facts would speak louder than any ridicule.

Face was something they would reclaim with strength.

Ryan did not argue either. He merely swept his gaze calmly across the Southern District formation, silently memorizing faces. His lips curved ever so slightly, forming a faint, cold smile.

He had heard that during the entrance examination, death was not forbidden.

That thought lingered quietly in his mind.

…