boyutpedia Chapter 74 Obsidian School Gate: A Chasm for the Poor
Chapter 74 Obsidian School Gate: A Chasm for the Poor
The wind in Xingwu City is different from that in Qingyang City.
The wind blowing from the northwest forest region carried the scent of earth and pine resin to Qingyang City. The wind was cool, and when it entered the nose, it had an indescribable crispness, like spiritual energy condensed into water vapor, floating in the air. Lin Chen stood at the school gate, took a deep breath, and the Star Martial Core in his dantian throbbed slightly, as if it had smelled something good.
The school gate was made of obsidian, with pillars so thick that it would take three people to encircle them. Atop each pillar sat a stone guardian beast, its eyes inlaid with black crystals that gleamed eerily in the sunlight. The lintel bore the four characters "Star Martial University," the strokes deep and bold, as if carved with a knife. Lin Chen looked up at those four characters, his chest tightening—this was no ordinary inscription; it was written by the first Martial Emperor himself. The characters carried a murderous aura, still suffocating even across a thousand years.
He glanced down at his black school uniform. It was from Qingyang City, washed several times, and the collar was a shade lighter than the rest of the uniform. He carried a bulging old canvas bag on his back; the zipper pull was broken and held together with a wire.
There were many people coming and going at the school gate, but the two groups were walking in different directions.
There was a passageway to the left, paved with light-colored marble, spotless and without a single footprint. The school uniforms worn by those people were different from his—silver-trimmed, the fabric shimmering, clearly custom-made. Some wore jade pendants at their waists, a vibrant green; others wore military badges on their shoulders, both bronze and silver; and there were several blond, blue-eyed foreigners, accompanied by attendants carrying bags. They walked in, chatting and laughing, and the guards at the entrance not only didn't stop them, but even bowed slightly.
To the right was the regular passage, blocked by an iron railing and marked with yellow lines on the ground. Thousands of people were crammed there, forming several crooked rows, carrying large and small bags, some even with bedding on their heads. The line moved slowly, and the staff at the verification station sat behind desks, calling out names one by one before letting people pass. Some people had incomplete documents and were scolded, their faces flushed as they went back to complete them.
Lin Chen slung the strap of his canvas bag over his shoulder and walked to the end of the line in the regular passage.
He had been queuing for over half an hour, and there were still more than a dozen people ahead of him. The sun was rising, and the back of his neck was burning hot. He heard laughter coming from the passage to his left, and turned his head to look—several students in silver-trimmed school uniforms were getting out of a black limousine. Some were handing out water, some were helping with their luggage, and a girl in a white dress was being surrounded and walked in the middle, like a princess on a royal procession.
"Next up, Lin Chen."
The officer at the verification counter was a man in his forties with sparse hair hanging over his forehead. He didn't look up, took the ID card Lin Chen handed him, typed a couple of times on the keyboard, and then flipped through a thick stack of lists beside him. When he turned to a certain page, his fingers paused.
"A specially admitted student? From Qingyang City?"
"Yes."
The teacher finally looked up. He glanced at Lin Chen, his gaze moving from top to bottom and then back up, lingering for a moment on Lin Chen's faded school uniform and the canvas bag with its broken zipper. His lips twitched, a half-smile playing on his lips.
"Special admissions students also use the regular channel." He tossed his ID card back onto the table, then pulled a card from the drawer, flicked it with his thumb, and the card slid to Lin Chen's face. "West Campus Building 3, Room 602, six-person room, shared bathroom. This is your campus card, with 1000 initial points. Use it sparingly."
Lin Chen picked up the card. It was plastic, and the edges weren't properly sanded, making it rough on his hands. He stuffed it into his pocket and turned to leave.
"From Qingyang City? That's the kid who bragged like crazy after killing a fourth-tier ferocious beast?"
The sound came from the left passage, not too loud, not too soft, just loud enough for everyone around to hear. Lin Chen paused, but didn't turn around.
"A mere fourth-tier ferocious beast? I killed one when I was fifteen. Does a peasant from a small border town even deserve to enter Star Martial University?"
"I heard he wants to get into the core class? That's hilarious, the spots have already been reserved by Young Master Qin and his group."
Several boys in silver-trimmed school uniforms stood at the entrance of the passageway, arms crossed, laughing so hard they were doubled over. Some people joined in the commotion, while others walked past expressionlessly, as if they hadn't heard a thing.
Lin Chen stood there for two seconds, then walked away.
The West Campus dormitories are located at the westernmost edge of the campus, requiring a walk across half the campus to reach. The road grows narrower and narrower, and the buildings on both sides become increasingly old. The sycamore trees lining the road grow crookedly, their leaves scattered across the ground, unswept. Reaching a drab six-story building, patches of plaster crumble away, revealing the red bricks beneath. A rusty iron sign is nailed to the building entrance: Building No. 3.
The hallway was pitch black; half the light bulbs were broken, and the few remaining ones cast a dim, yellowish glow. The air smelled damp and musty, a mixture of instant noodle seasoning packets and an indescribable sour odor. My shoes stuck to the terrazzo floor.
Sixth floor, 602.
The door was ajar, and Lin Chen pushed it open and went in. The room was even smaller than his high school dormitory, with four bunk beds crammed into the space, leaving only enough room for one person to turn around. The beds were covered with gray-white sheets, some pilling from washing, others stained with unknown marks. The windows weren't closed properly, and the wind howled in through the cracks.
My three roommates have arrived. One is lying on the lower bunk playing on his phone, the screen light shining on his face, flickering on and off; another is sitting on a small stool by the window eating instant noodles, slurping them up, steam covering half his face; and the third is squatting on the floor organizing his suitcase, its contents scattered all over the place—a few changes of clothes, a bag of dry food, and a well-worn martial arts book.
When Lin Chen entered, all three of them looked up. The one playing on his phone glanced at him for a second before looking down again. The one eating instant noodles mumbled something, probably a greeting. The one squatting on the ground nodded at him but didn't say anything.
Lin Chen found his bed—the upper left bunk. A straw mat was laid on the bed board, with strands of hair stuck in the cracks. He threw his canvas bag on it and was about to climb up to make the bed when the door was kicked open from the outside.
The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, startling the person eating instant noodles, causing the noodles to hang from their chin.
A student council member in a red vest, his badge pinned to the vest, walked in. His hair was slicked back with hair gel. He carried a stack of forms in one hand, knocked twice on the doorframe with the other, and shouted, "Listen up, everyone! Meet at the central square at 8:00 AM tomorrow for the freshman orientation ceremony. Latecomers will not receive credits!"
He slammed the form onto the shoe cabinet by the door: "Also, the selection assessment for the core class has been cancelled. The list has already been finalized and is posted on the bulletin board downstairs. Go check it out yourself!"
After saying that, he turned to leave.
"Wait a minute." Lin Chen jumped off the bed. "Wasn't the selection for the core class supposed to be based on the freshman assessment scores? Why was it suddenly canceled?"
The officer stopped, turned around, and sized him up. His gaze swept from the detached sneakers on the officer's feet to the worn-out backpack strap on the officer's shoulder, a familiar look of disdain in his eyes.
"Who do you think you are? You want to get into the core class?" He gestured with his chin towards the door, speaking as if to an ignorant child. "Let me tell you, of the thirty spots in the core class, twenty-five are for scions of powerful families and military elites, and the remaining five are for the top scorers in the national assessment. You, a special recruit from the border region, shouldn't be daydreaming."
"But Director Chen Feng said that I am a student in the core class and was assigned a single apartment, 302." Lin Chen's voice was not loud, but it was very calm.
The officer's expression changed. A slight smirk curled at the corners of his mouth—not a smile, but a mocking, amusement. "Director Chen Feng? Director Chen is just the deputy director of the admissions office. The core class is decided by Vice Principal Qin Cang." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Apartment 302? It was already assigned to Young Master Qin Hao. You'd better stay in a regular class if you know what's good for you, or you'll regret it."
He scoffed, turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him.