The morning sun washed over the Central Testing Plaza, illuminating ten thousand bright emerald halos.
Ten thousand yellow-vested warriors stood in neat, disciplined rows, weeping tears of pure joy. For three hundred years, the cultivation world had branded them as repulsive demonic butchers. Now, each man wore a certified green ring of heavenly virtue above his brow.
Lin Mo descended the wide marble steps of the viewing terrace, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets.
Patriarch Xue Ba remained on one knee before the testing dais. His eight-foot frame trembled with emotion as he dabbed his eyes with a large, checkered handkerchief.
“Chairman Lin,” Xue Ba said, his gravelly voice trembling with reverence. “We passed. All ten thousand of us passed your exam. But... our meridians are still damaged. We have twelve days left before the old boar essence turns our veins into solid stone.”
Lin Mo turned toward Dr. Gu and Shen Qiaoqiao.
“Dr. Gu,” Lin Mo said, “do our Taichu medical vaults have enough medicine to permanently eradicate their meridian rot?”
Dr. Gu stepped forward, adjusting his silver spectacles with professional calm.
