Card Chapter 8: Ranking Test (Patreon)

Time quickly slipped by, and the second day arrived.

Standing at the lectern, Song Qian stuffed slips of paper bearing the names of the twelve students in the honor-class into a sealed box.

After shaking it once, she drew out two slips.
“Now I’m going to announce the first pair for the test.”

Unfolding them slowly, a smile appeared on her face.

“Russell versus Lin Yue.”

Hearing his own name, Russell raised an eyebrow—he hadn’t expected to go first.

The teachers and students of the honor-class headed to the custom‑built dueling arena of Shanghai City No. 1 High School.

From the far side of the field, Lin Yue called out, “Russell, I look forward to your guidance.”

As he spoke, an ox‑headed, human‑bodied figure brandishing a steel blade materialized in front of him.

“Ox‑Head?” Russell glanced at Lin Yue’s card, a little surprised, then denied his own guess. “If it were [Soul‑Reaping Envoy - Ox‑Head], it couldn’t possibly be only a Black‑Iron‑grade blue rarity.”

That left two options: either it was a plain ox‑headed monster, or it was an incomplete version produced because the story behind it was patchy and the materials were of too low a level.

Russell leaned toward the first possibility.

Creatures invented from one’s own lore at low rarities usually had no special abilities.

Tsugikuni Yoriichi appeared instantly at Russell’s side.

“I’ll leave it to you, Yoriichi.”

Yoriichi nodded lightly.

Come to think of it, Russell still didn’t know whether Yoriichi chose not to speak or simply couldn’t.

At the edge of the arena, Jiang Nanxi and Du Heng’s eyes tightened the moment they saw Yoriichi—this was their first time seeing Russell’s card.

Inside the ring, Yoriichi drew a deep breath and flashed toward the Ox‑Head monster.

The distance between them shrank in a heartbeat.

Perhaps because of the card’s low grade, or because monsters were rarely intelligent, the Ox‑Head only reacted when Yoriichi was already upon it.

Clang!

Blades met; crimson sparks burst before the watching teachers and students.

An instant later, Lin Yue cried out in alarm.

Before his eyes, Yoriichi had voluntarily abandoned the clash, sidestepped, and withdrew a pace, slipping under the monster’s guard as its balance faltered. The flame‑wreathed blade swept across its throat.

With his back now to the creature, Yoriichi slowly sheathed his sword.

Behind him, the decapitated Ox‑Head faded into motes of light.

“Russell wins!” Song Qian announced loudly, unable to hide her delight.

Russell’s ability far exceeded her expectations. Had he not been limited by materials, his first card might have reached gold rarity straight away.

Principal Xie’s judgment had been right—Russell was definitely worth grooming as Shanghai City No. 1’s seed contestant.

This year’s Four‑School Joint Exam might not be out of reach for them.

Jiang Nanxi watched the bout, brows knit. From a single fight she couldn’t read much of Yoriichi’s abilities—only that even among Black‑Iron‑grade purple cards, he was a top‑tier specimen.

She turned to Du Heng. “Well? Confident?”

Du Heng arched a brow and smiled self‑assuredly. “If it’s Russell, he’ll be troublesome.”

“Will you lose?”

“I’ll win.”

“Good thing it’s not the red‑haired guy, or the fight might drag on till the very Dao itself wore away,” Russell muttered at ringside as Du Heng summoned a green‑furred jiangshi (hopping zombie).

Fair’s fair—the green jiangshi was strong. Russell could already see at least one ability that boosted its physical toughness.

As for the rest, there was no telling, because the opponent was far too weak.

No sooner had his rival’s card been summoned than Du Heng’s jiangshi had it pinned and pounded; in moments it dispersed into the air.

“Hahaha—pathetic! You’re so weak it’s boring!” Du Heng laughed in the arena. “And you made it into the honor-class?”

His opponent paled, looking humiliated.

Song Qian frowned—Du Heng was going too far. They were classmates, not mortal enemies; such harsh words were unnecessary.

“Du Heng’s temperament will get him in trouble one day,” Jiang Nanxi said with a shake of her head.

Russell nodded, then shrugged. “Why worry? We’re not his parents.”

Maybe Du Heng would pay for it, but what did that matter to Russell? They were hardly close.

“Next match: Jiang Nanxi versus Xu Jin!” Song Qian called.

“Your turn—good luck,” Russell said to Jiang Nanxi.

She brushed a loose strand behind her ear and smiled. “Thanks.” Then she stepped into the ring.

“What were you whispering about with Jiang Nanxi?” Du Heng plopped down beside Russell.

During his own match he’d seen his two main “people of interest,” Russell and Jiang Nanxi, chatting at the sidelines.

Scooting away slightly, Russell looked him in the eye and said earnestly, “Nothing much. We just said you’re too strong—we doubt we can beat you.”

Du Heng caught the sarcasm at once. “Tsk, sharp‑tongued, huh? Hope you’re that cocky in the arena.”

Russell sighed inwardly. Why is this kid so edgy?

He ignored Du Heng and looked back at the field—only to be puzzled.

Xu Jin’s card stood there staring vacantly into space, while Jiang Nanxi’s three‑tailed fox sauntered up leisurely.

One swipe, and Xu Jin’s card was done for.

“An illusion?” Russell frowned.

For a moment he wondered: whose genjutsu was stronger—Uchiha Itachi’s, or this fox spirit’s?

In the next round, Russell, Du Heng, and Jiang Nanxi still didn’t face each other.

Their opponents all shattered on contact.

At present, the three were head‑and‑shoulders above the rest of the honor-class.

Barring some sudden epiphany from someone else, next month’s Four‑School Exam for Ning’an District would likely come down to those three.

That made Russell half‑suspect Song Qian of backstage manipulation—though the idea struck him as funny.

This was only the first ranking test, and anyone dissatisfied could challenge up once a week.
Otherwise it would never end and no one would attend class.

Clap clap. Song Qian drew everyone’s attention. “Since only Russell, Du Heng, and Jiang Nanxi remain, one of you will receive a bye straight into the final round.”

(It would actually be fairer for the bye to face the next‑round loser, but a destroyed card needs a full day to cool down.)

She glanced at the slip in her hand and announced loudly, “The next round will be—”