"Master Scholar is here!"

Whoosh—in an instant, the crowd parted into two orderly lines, clearing a path down the middle. Master Scholar was the most revered elder in Spirit Martial Town, respected by every resident.

"Good morning, Master Scholar," the townsfolk bowed as he reached the end of the crowd.

"Good morning to all," he replied warmly.

Behind him walked the town mayor and local officials. Though modest, their procession carried quiet authority.

At the town gate, Master Scholar’s students—those selected for the Imperial Capital Examination—bowed deeply once more.

"Give your best today," Master Scholar said, glancing at his pupils flanking him. "Aim for your dream academy at the Imperial Capital. That’s all I wish to see." He paused. "Stay calm. Don’t let nerves take hold."

Master Scholar knew exams and interviews well. The Crown Prince Manor held weekly quizzes, monthly tests, and annual assessments. To him, success hinged on three things: luck, fundamentals, and mindset—with mindset being paramount. A steady heart ensured peak performance.

"We’ll heed your wisdom," the students chorused, bowing again.

Now, they waited for the Imperial Capital team. Shops across Spirit Martial Town had shuttered early—as they did every year during examination season.

"How late is it?" Master Scholar murmured after a while, his legs aching from standing. In past years, the team always arrived before fatigue set in.

"It’s past the Hour of the Snake," Yi Aimin replied. "Nearly halfway through."

Many had already slipped home, exhausted. They’d endured this wait annually, but today stretched close to two hours with no sign of the team.

"This… defies reason," Master Scholar thought. Imperial Capital officials were always punctual. Had this year’s leader grown lax with time?

"Shall I fetch a chair for you, Master Scholar?" Jiang Zicheng offered, rubbing his own sore feet. "Even I’m tired—let alone someone of your age."

"Wait a little longer," Master Scholar shook his head. Though retired from court life, he upheld decorum. The Emperor knew he resided here; he wouldn’t risk criticism over a minor breach. Standing a while more was no hardship.

The students’ anticipation had long faded into indifference. Who could stay tense for two hours straight? Only someone unhinged.

"Master Scholar," Yi Aimin reminded him gently, "the Hour of the Snake has ended."

"Why this delay?" Master Scholar frowned. The Imperial Capital Examination team never arrived at the Hour of the Horse—that time was reserved for executions, when yang energy peaked. No weddings or funerals occurred then. Had the capital’s customs shifted?

"Could they have encountered trouble?" Jiang Zicheng massaged his shoulders. "Shall we send a search party?"

"Impossible," Master Scholar countered. "The messenger reported Yang Su leading them. As a general of the Five Armies Camp, he’d crush any obstacle swiftly. This delay makes no sense."

By the Hour of the Horse, only Master Scholar, the officials, and the students remained at the gate. The youths itched to leave but held their ground—awaiting his command.

"Xiuran, what’s happening?" Duan Mengqi whispered to Yi Xiuran, watching him converse with his father and Huor’s father. "Will the Imperial Capital team even come today?"

"They’re always punctual," Yi Xiuran replied, his voice dry. He licked his parched lips—a lapse in Yi Family grace, but the scorching heat and hours without water left him desperate. "Traditionally, they arrive as the Hour of the Dragon ends and the Hour of the Snake begins. Master Scholar is surely discussing this."

"My mother brought two bags of iced sour plum juice from Top Fresh," Duan Mengqi said, handing him a waterskin beaded with condensation. "Here."

Yi Xiuran took it. The icy chill instantly soothed him.

"Delicious," he murmured after a sip. Top Fresh’s iced sour plum juice was legendary in summer—cooling, refreshing, and always sold out.

"Of course," Duan Mengqi grinned. "This isn’t the shop stock. It’s our family reserve, drawn from the deepest well water. Huor sneaks over almost daily for some in summer."

"Daily? I never knew," Yi Xiuran lowered the skin.

"You rush home to train after class," she said. "I wish you both lingered with me more. Huor just fills a bag and dashes to the Blacksmith Workshop—he barely chats. And you, noble Yi heir, vanish into training too."

Just then, Master Scholar spoke up.

"Students, return home for lunch and rest. We’ll reconvene here this afternoon." His face etched with bewilderment—had the Imperial Capital abandoned its own traditions?

"Yes, Master Scholar!" The students bolted away, driven by thirst and hunger.

"Poor children," Yi Aimin sighed, torn between amusement and pity. "A morning’s effort wasted."

The hardship wasn’t over. That afternoon, they waited until deep into the night—but the Imperial Capital team never came.