Chapter Thirty-Six: Exam Results

Three days of tense examinations came to an end, not without their share of minor incidents. Although he wasn’t allowed to return frequently, Commander Chen Ming still went back during certain sessions to await the results. Before the outcomes were announced, no one could predict how many subjects Li Daoran might pass. Over those three days, he endured a fair share of ridicule and pointed fingers. Hardly anyone believed he was genuinely answering the questions; most thought he was just seeking attention, guessing through the true-or-false questions and scribbling random answers elsewhere, especially since many saw his answer sheets densely filled from top to bottom.

As for the people of Azure Blue Star, they only felt confident about passing twenty-three subjects. For the rest, there simply hadn’t been enough time—some had only one or two days to prepare, so failing those was no surprise. More challenging, though, were the open-ended questions, since the response style on Azure Blue Star differed from that of Daoran's world. The results depended entirely on the graders, with no standard answers, so no one knew what to expect.

Li Daoran, however, remained at ease. Passing twenty-three subjects was already far beyond his expectations, and should place him at the very top of the entire base. After all, not a single candidate had registered for as many as twenty-three subjects, so what more was there to say?

Chen Ming, on the other hand, was anxious. Twenty-three was still short of the number promised to the Flowering Nation, and for them, even a single subject’s difference was like the gap between heaven and earth.

The results were transmitted to everyone’s wrist terminals the very day after the exams ended.

To Li Daoran’s astonishment, over three thousand people were eliminated—some failed every subject, others passed only one. Nearly thirty percent of the candidates had been weeded out in the first month and would have to leave the base.

At the very top of the list, Li Daoran’s name shone brilliantly. Passing fifty-one subjects, his score astounded all.

The passing threshold wasn’t a fixed score; instead, it was determined by the number of examinees per subject, with sixty percent deemed as passing and the remaining forty percent as failing—a rule only disclosed after the results were published.

Many had only registered for their strongest subjects, not realizing these were also the most popular and had the highest elimination rates. Those who went for obscure subjects found little to celebrate either, for not even they could outdo Li Daoran.

Overall, the rule was considered fairly just. Some grumbled about not being informed earlier, but most accepted it. Chen Ming breathed a long sigh of relief, grateful for the rule; some subjects with poor average scores managed to clear the threshold due to their obscurity. All in all, the benefits outweighed the drawbacks. With results surpassing the forty-subject promise, the task was finally accomplished.

“You’re incredible, boss!” Xu Xingxing exclaimed, giving Li Daoran an excited punch on the chest.

Xu Xingxing had registered for fifteen subjects and passed fourteen, barely missing the mark on one. Nonetheless, it was a commendable result, placing him among the top fifty in the base.

The second place went to Ailu, who passed twenty-four subjects—a remarkable feat in itself, yet dwarfed by Li Daoran’s achievement, more than double his own, leaving his glory utterly eclipsed. Comparisons between the two became the stuff of daily chatter.

“Wow, Li Daoran is inhuman—absolutely inhuman! He passed more than double Ailu’s subjects. Who is Ailu, anyway…” Such comments became common. People might not have known much about Li Daoran, only that he was impressive, but Ailu was a household name. People would first praise Ailu, only to turn around and declare Li Daoran superhuman. The whole routine became second nature to all. As for Ailu, forced into comparison, he wore a constantly dark expression, wishing he could erase his own name from the rankings.

Li Daoran himself remained calm and unruffled, appearing to outsiders as someone who concealed his true talents—a stark contrast to the gossip of previous days.

“You people! Just a few days ago, you were whispering that Li Daoran was a clown. I couldn’t be bothered with you then. I knew from the start he was no ordinary man. Sure enough, once the winds shifted, the dragon soared to the clouds. Are you shocked now? How could mere mortals comprehend the power of a true dragon? If not for the time limit, I bet Li Daoran would have scored full marks in all eighty-three subjects! I’ve known him for ages—he’s our class monitor, not that I’d bother telling you lot…”

Li Daoran glanced over at the one man gesticulating wildly, spittle flying as he spoke. As class monitor, he had no idea such a character was in his class.

“He’s one of ours?” Li Daoran shot a look at Xu Xingxing.

“Yeah, that’s Big Mouth Xu Long. Loves storytelling, but honestly, he wasn’t exaggerating earlier. You deserve every bit of it, boss,” Xu Xingxing replied quietly. The two had just slipped away from the gathering crowd, hiding in an unobtrusive corner.

It was Xu Xingxing’s loud exclamation earlier that had drawn so many people—brash types wanting Li Daoran as their sidekick, pretentious ones volunteering themselves, others openly currying favor. People with all sorts of intentions flocked from every direction, and the crowd only grew.

Li Daoran had barely managed to escape, and Xu Xingxing, seeing the situation turn, had slipped away first. Now, noticing Li Daoran had gotten free, he quietly joined him, not daring to speak loudly again.

Still, he couldn’t resist another round of flattery, though his praise was a bit too obvious.

Li Daoran gave him an annoyed nudge with his elbow. “You ran off quick enough just now.”

“Heh, nobody’s interested in a small fry like me,” Xu Xingxing replied with a sheepish grin.

“Say, I just remembered my first impression of you. Back when you were gunning for class monitor, you were so cocky. I actually found you interesting. How did you end up like this—a fawning little lapdog?” Li Daoran couldn’t help but reminisce.

“That’s all thanks to your leadership,” Xu Xingxing replied awkwardly.

“If the rest of our class saw you now, do you think your image would collapse?” Li Daoran asked.

“No way. Just look at Chen Long—he brags even more than I do,” Xu Xingxing answered, unconcerned.

“Really?” Li Daoran pressed.

Xu Xingxing blushed a little. “Well, give me some credit at least.”

Li Daoran patted his shoulder. “How many of our class are left?”

“There were thirty of us including you. Three left. We’re seeing them off this afternoon—will you come?” Xu Xingxing’s face darkened a bit as he spoke.

“I’ll skip it. We weren’t close, and I’d only steal the spotlight. It’s better if you go. By the way, do you know where they’re headed?”

“Those eliminated are being assigned to different military districts. The three of them are going to a base on Milan Star. Not sure which one exactly,” Xu Xingxing replied.

“That’s not so bad. I’ll leave it to you—let’s hope no one else has to leave next month.” Li Daoran nodded, slinging his arm around Xu Xingxing’s shoulders.

Xu Xingxing nodded firmly, understanding everything without need for words.