SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Royal City – Princess Gu Ping’s Chamber

The scent of burning sandalwood filled the luxurious chamber as Princess Gu Ping reclined on a silk-draped chaise lounge. She delicately swirled a cup of fragrant tea, her long crimson nails tapping softly against the porcelain.

Around her, two handmaidens skillfully massaged her feet, their heads lowered, their movements careful.

A group of noble servant women stood at a respectful distance, chatting in hushed voices about the latest spectacle gripping the Royal Academy—this year’s Annual Challenge.

“I heard Lee Hua dominated the last two rounds,” one woman whispered excitedly.

“Bai Wei is no less! His swordplay was so sharp, he cut his opponent’s elder rank spirit weapon in half!” another chimed in.

A third servant, adjusting the silk curtains, sighed. “But neither of them is from the royal bloodline. The Ping family’s only hope is Crown Prince Ping Ping. Without him, the family will have no representation in the finals.”

Gu Ping’s lips curled into a smirk as she listened, her deep red robes shimmering under the candlelight.

“Of course, my dear brother will be victorious,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Lee Hua and Bai Wei are merely side characters in his legend.”

The servant women exchanged glances but dared not refute her words.

Just then, two new servants rushed in, their faces flushed with urgency. They dropped to their knees, bowing deeply.

“Your Highness,” one of them panted, “urgent news!”

Gu Ping raised an eyebrow, lazily taking a sip of tea. “Speak.”

The second servant gulped. “A new disciple… a certain Kent Clark… has received an entrance token to the Royal Academy.”

Gu Ping frowned slightly. “Why should I care about some nameless peasant?”

The first servant hesitated before continuing, “The token was directly sealed by the Emperor himself.”

Silence.

The air in the chamber grew heavy.

Gu Ping’s hand tightened around her teacup, her expression darkening.

“Repeat that,” she ordered coldly.

The servant swallowed hard. “The Emperor sanctioned his entry personally. Ai Ping went to fetch the token for him.”

A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as Gu Ping crushed the delicate porcelain cup in her grip. Tea splattered onto the silk of her robes, but she ignored it entirely.

Her breath came slow and measured, but her eyes burned with barely contained rage.

“So,” she murmured, a dangerous smile creeping onto her lips. “My dear sister is moving pieces without my knowledge?”

The servant trembled. “It seems so, Your Highness.”

Gu Ping stood up abruptly, her long robes flowing like a river of blood behind her.

“A filthy creature from the Slave Village dares step into the Royal Academy?” she hissed, her voice sharp as a blade. “Hah. This should be entertaining.”

She turned toward her personal attendant, a woman dressed in deep violet robes.

“Send word to my uncle who is Academy Elder,” Gu Ping commanded. “I want this Kent King’s entrance test to be…unforgettable.”

The attendant smirked, bowing gracefully. “As you wish, Princess.”

Gu Ping’s crimson lips curled into a predatory grin.

“If Ai Ping wants to play a game,” she whispered, “then I shall be the one writing the rules.”

The night outside her chamber darkened as shadows of conspiracy took root.

—

Royal Academy…

The towering gates of the Royal Academy stood before Kent, their golden engravings shimmering under the afternoon sun. The air buzzed with the energy of countless disciples moving in and out—some flying on their swords, others riding majestic spirit beasts. The sight was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the wretched state of the Slave Village.

Kent, however, remained indifferent. He had seen grandeur before; the only thing that mattered to him was stepping through this gate and proving his worth.

At his side, Ai Ping glanced at him. “I can only accompany you up to here,” she said, handing him a silver coin marked with the Emperor’s personal seal. “This will get you past the gate without question. But remember, just because you have the token doesn’t mean you’re safe. The academy is ruthless, and people like Gu Ping will do everything to make sure you fail.”

Kent smirked slightly. “Let them try.”

With steady steps, he approached the guardians of the gate—two armored men with spears embedded with spiritual energy. They crossed their weapons as he neared.

“Halt! Present your identity and purpose,” one of them barked.

Kent flipped the royal-sealed coin into the air. The silver glowed as it landed neatly in the guardian’s palm. The moment they saw the Emperor’s seal, their expressions shifted.

One of them straightened. “You are cleared to enter.”

As they moved aside, countless eyes turned toward Kent. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

“Who is that?!”

“Why does he have an entrance token from the Emperor himself?”

“Ai Ping accompanied him… He must be a new disciple from the Slave Village? Impossible!”

Kent ignored the noise and stepped inside.

The Sect Administration Hall was a grand structure with towering jade pillars, hanging lanterns, and scrolls of knowledge floating mid-air. Disciples came and went, registering their names, receiving their uniforms, and selecting their courses.

Kent approached the front desk, where a young female disciple sat behind a massive wooden ledger. She barely glanced at him.

“Name?” she asked in a monotonous tone.

“Kent King.”

Her pen halted. She slowly lifted her gaze, her expression turning into one of disbelief. “You?”

Kent merely placed the royal-sealed token on the desk. The moment she saw it, her indifferent attitude disappeared.

“P-Please wait here. An elder will be with you shortly,” she stammered before rushing away.

Kent crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby pillar. Time passed. He watched as other disciples were assigned rooms and resources. But no elder came for him.

Two hours later…

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Loud, heavy footsteps echoed as a massive, burly elder stormed into the hall. His muscles bulged beneath his crimson robes, and his bald head gleamed under the sunlight. His thick beard twitched as he scowled at Kent.

“So, you’re the special case?” he sneered. His voice was a mixture of mockery and disdain. “Hmph. I don’t care what fancy token you brought. If you want to enter the Royal Academy, you must earn your place!”

Kent’s lips curled into an amused smile. “That’s what I came for.”

The elder snorted. “Then follow me, boy. Let’s see if you can survive the Trial of Worth!”

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