Under the bright morning sun of the administrative courtyard, thirty terrifying elders of the cultivation world sat in two neat rows.
They were not sitting on carved jade thrones or golden dragon daises.
They were crammed onto tiny, brightly colored plastic stools designed for kindergarten children, their ancient knees jammed up against their chins.
At the front of the class sat Grand Demonic Elder Blood-Crow, still wearing his red floral scarecrow vest, clutching a piece of charcoal and a clean roof tile.
Beside him sat Mount Qingcheng’s disgraced Third Elder He, his oversized straw hat resting on the grass, holding a schoolchild’s lined notebook.
Behind them sat elders from the Gloom-River Sect, the Iron-Bones Manor, and seven rogue mountain factions, all looking terrified, humbled, and desperate.
At the front of the courtyard stood Qin Haoran, dressed in a spotless white designer suit and polished Italian loafers.
Pinned proudly to his left lapel was a glowing green circular badge that pulsed with a crisp holographic number: [GOODNESS: 82 / 100].
