Hundreds queued in front of a house, and one was entering into the house after another. The third round was taking place inside.
“I wonder what’s happening in there,” Edgar tried to peek through whenever the curtains parted, but he couldn’t see much.
“Don’t think too much,” Fabby reminded him. “Even if we fail in the third round, we’ll still become foot disciples it seems.”
“I don’t know what the difference between a foot disciple or an outer disciple is, but clearly the latter is better than the former, so of course, I don’t want to spoil this opportunity.”
Fabby didn’t say anything. (After the second round, his confidence has taken a dent. I guess I’ll just let him be.)
S
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WHIT 72 - REWARD
More than a thousand people gathered at the northern end of the Great Grove in front of a big stage.On the stage were dozens of examiners who watched over the entrance exams. Dubril Zha was also among them.“I’m Ruth Raj. A master of the sect as most of you already had guessed.” One of them, the one with a black hat and a cloth wrapped around his face, was talking with the audience, “More than 15,000 people participated this year, but only a little over 1300 passed. Out of those, only 232 people became outer disciples, and the rest became foot disciples. This year’s pass rate isn’t great, but it isn’t that bad either. Now, we will reward the one who did best overall in the three rounds combined.” He then read out a name. “Fabby Ecstasio. Please come onto the stage and receive your reward.”
WHIT 73 - THE GREAT CHEEK
After coming out of the indoor testing grounds, the first vast location one would enter into was the Great Cheek, where all the foot disciples would stay.Foot disciples were the lowest level disciples who wouldn’t receive any martial techniques or beast cores from the sect. They weren’t allowed to go to the library either. And they had to live in rooms of at least two. The room numbers were initially drawn by the lottery, but later on, one was allowed to change their rooms within the first month.Every foot disciple was allowed to stay a decade in the Great Cheek, and if they still failed to become an outer disciple, they’d be kicked out of the sect.Edgar was humbled by the vastness of the lands and the tens of thousands of foot disciples living in that region that was easily tens of times larger
WHIT 74 - THE TEAM
“Oi, wake up. Hey!” Some words woke Edgar up. The orange-haired boy was sitting in the chair next to Edgar’s bed, eating peas. He was a bit shorter and much leaner than Edgar. His skin was also on the darker side. “Finally, you’ve been sleeping for like two days. I thought you were dead or something.” “You’re…” “Ah, right,” he was tapping his thighs. “I’m Bontu. Bontu Das. And you are...” “Edgar.” “Okay, Edgar. You should bathe and get ready.” “For what?” “What else? Work. All of us can start from today.” “Do we have to work?”
WHIT 75 - WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE
Diver landed on an outwardly extended rock on a cliff that was at a height of about eleven hundred meters above the mount. There was a board nearby that read ‘Boar Woods.’ In front were tall sturdy trees. They could only see one boar in the distance, and it was feeding on a dead deer. “So, we have to kill boars, huh,” Edgar had a guess. “I wish I got a different mission,” replied Fabby, “but everyone has to pick their first ever mission through the lottery it seems. And I got this.” Edgar was observing the boar. “How many should we kill?” “At least six, but not more than ten,” said Fabby, sounding sad. “There’s an upper limit, too?” Edgar was surprised. “Otherwise, the disci
WHIT 76 - THE NEW ONE
“Was that enough?” an long-faced old man in a black and gray cloak asked in a rough voice, holding a single-edged sword with blue patterns on it. He was tall and slim and had a long ponytail. He suffered some stab wounds and some cuts. The five fingers of his left hand had rings made of different metal. He was Gavin Beyza. Standing at about fifty feet away from him was a light green-, light white-haired old man who had his ear and his left arm cut from the previous attack. But tree roots rose out of the ground and stitched his left arm and left ear back. He had suffered more wounds than Gavin and lost more blood. As a result, he was gasping. He was Reso Green. He was dressed in violet robes. There was utter destruction all around those two for hundreds of meters. Reso snorted. “Fine. I’ll let him be the new one f
WHIT 77 - FISHING
Three young people were fishing at Trout Pond that was about twenty acres wide. They were sitting on a small boulder so as to hide themselves from the nearby fish. Once every few minutes, Diver came flying down and dove into the pond and then came out of the waters, holding two trout in its mouth. When it tried to swallow them both, one of them fell back into the waters below, but the other one went down its throat. “To think we only got one evergreat coin for our first mission,” Edgar was as disappointed as a newly-wed man for marrying someone who cooked horribly. “At this rate, we’ll need to do a whole lot of missions to get to a hundred coins.” “Don’t worry, we’re only doing one-star sigma-grade missions,” said Fabby. “Once we finish ten of these successfully, we can take two-star sigma-grade missions. Then we’ll get two evergreat coins per mission.”
WHIT 78 - NOT STAYING PUT
Bontu assumed a defensive stance as he glared at those two girls.“Whoa, look at this punk. Looking at us like we’re beasts.”“Then we shall act like one.” One of the girls who was already stepping on Diver’s throat, put more pressure.Edgar, meanwhile, bought Fabby out of the pond. She was unconscious. He pressed the heel of his hand on her chest, and luckily, she started breathing on the third compression itself. “Sis!” he felt relieved since the damage wasn’t as bad as it looked.“Guh! Guh!” she spilled some water, and she slowly got her vision back.Edgar was already walking toward the two girls, coldness oozing out of his eyes. “You two…
WHIT 79 - JUDGMENT
In the cellars of the Discipline Hall. A young man, who looked weak, was being whipped behind the bars continuously by two guards. After hitting dozens of times, the guards were out of breath. “This punk… he’s yet to utter a cry.” “Maybe we should have let him rot here a few more days.” The young man, who was made to sit on the back of his heels, with his arms sealed up in a piece of wood, was none other than Edgar. The back of his shirt was long torn, and his entire back had swollen red and bled, but the guards whipped him some more. After they finished a thousand whippings in total, they stopped and removed his wooden bindings. “Hmph, put this shirt on.” They tossed an old