Finally! That overly serious lass was settled into her examination. After giving her the peace she desperately wanted, I left the hall, floating outside in my invisible state.

  Now, what to do?

  Ah, yes—gather intelligence! Or, as the common folk call it, gossip.

  I stretched my arms lazily, scanning the crowd with an amused smirk. The Ranked Doctor Examination wasn’t just an academic trial—it was a grand festival for the First Zoners. Five whole days of extravagant celebrations, dramatic scandals, and people pretending they understood medicine. The streets were flooded with nobles, merchants, and idlers, none of whom had ever smelled a single herb, yet they were here. Why?

  For the upcoming dramas, of course.

  Me? I was no different.

  I came to watch the fun, expecting Azhini to provide at least some entertainment. Maybe she’d break a rule, challenge an examiner, or cause a scandal with her bluntness—something! But no. That ignorant lass was too busy studying, studying, studying and now sat in the examination hall like a model student, never once daring to stray from the righteous path.

  How dull.

  Did she even realize her own strength?

  I highly doubted it.

  Ever since that incident—the one where she successfully delivered that sharp-tongued brat Soori’s niece—the game system had awarded her two incredible things: Chhaya and the ability of Pathosight.

  Two priceless gifts.

  And yet, she wasn’t using them.

  Chhaya—the spirit residing in her psychic abode—was essentially a fraction of Azhini herself, holding 25% of all her stats. That alone made her invaluable, yet Azhini stubbornly refused to rely on her. And Pathosight? That ability would let her see through illnesses, understand conditions in an instant, and yet she insisted on taking this exam as any ordinary student would.

  What a waste.

  I sighed, floating higher as I contemplated her stubbornness. Was it pride? Foolishness? Or that insufferable sense of fairness and equality she kept preaching about?

  I was in the middle of this grand philosophical debate when—

  A commotion broke out below.

  Ah, finally! Some entertainment.

  Oho? What do we have here?

  I drifted down lazily, weaving through the crowd, my interest piqued.

  At first, I expected some classic drama—perhaps an entitled brat demanding to cut the line or a noblewoman pretending to faint for attention. But no. This was far better.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  A full-blown verbal war was unfolding.

  On one side, Lady Adhira’s supporters stood firm, their eyes blazing with pride. On the other, Young Master Bhaskaran’s followers sneered, their arms crossed in defiance.

  A gang war? No.

  Neither Lady Adhira nor Young Master Bhaskaran were actually here.

  This was a fan fight.

  Hah! Now this was amusing.

  I hovered closer, effortlessly slipping between the spectators, picking up bits and pieces of their heated exchange.

  Apparently, Bhaskaran owned a guild—Ignis Sanctum.

  Or, as Lady Adhira’s supporters so affectionately called it—"Ignorant Spectrum."

  Hah! What a brilliant name. Who came up with that? I need to shake their hand.

  But what truly caught my attention was the bet.

  The founder of Ignorant Spectrum had challenged Lady Adhira, and somehow, their wager was connected to the current examination.

  Now that... that was intriguing.

  I cracked a grin.

  I leaned in closer, fully invested now.

  Two groups stood in a heated circle, arms waving, voices raised.

  A loud, irritated voice from Adhira’s side boomed over the noise:

  “Face it! Ignis Sanctum is just a gathering of misfits who think they’re important! Your ‘Young Master’ is a scam artist, not a warrior!”

  The insults landed like well-aimed arrows, but Bhaskaran’s followers only smirked.

  “Oh? And your Lady is what? A one-trick warhorse who thinks punching things solves everything?”

  That got a reaction. A member of Adhira’s gang stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

  “Careful now. That ‘one-trick warhorse’ broke your Young Master’s bones last time they fought.”

  Laughter erupted from Adhira’s side.

  Someone from Bhaskaran’s group rolled their eyes. “And then he wiped the floor with her in a strategy match. A battle isn’t just about fists, you know.”

  “That so-called ‘strategy match’ was a scam! A trickster’s playground! Everyone knows your Young Master can talk his way into winning anything!”

  “And yet, your Lady still agreed to this bet, didn’t she?”

  Silence.

  I perked up. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  A member of Ignis Sanctum smirked. “What was the deal again? If Lady Adhira fails to pass the Ranked Doctor Examination within five attempts, she has to serve as the ‘soul treasure’ of our guild for life?”

  Gasps rippled through the crowd.

  Someone from Adhira’s side snarled, “And if she wins, you lot have to finally admit that she has a brain!”

  Bhaskaran’s side chuckled. “If she had one, she wouldn’t have failed four times already.”

  Fury flared on Adhira’s side, but their leader held up a hand, silencing them.

  “She won’t fail,” someone declared with absolute confidence. “Unlike your cunning Young Master, Lady Adhira actually fights fair.”

  “Fighting fair doesn’t win wars,” a voice from Bhaskaran’s side countered smoothly. “And it certainly won’t win this bet.”

  As their heated banters flew here and there. A gang of people carrying a Sedan chair came while shouting make a way make a way the young master Ravinesan is here. Make a way make a way.

  The moment the sedan chair arrived, the battle turned into a full-fledged war of words.

  “A weakling is still a weakling,” a fierce admirer of Lady Adhira scoffed.

  “What do you mean by weakling? In this competition, your Lady Adhira is the weakest candidate of all,” shot back an Ignis Sanctum member with a smug grin.

  “As expected of an ignorant member of Ignorant Spectrum. YOU wait and watch!”

  “Oh, we are waiting. Just don’t forget your lady has a deal with our master. We’re preparing a nice seat for her as our guild’s new treasurer.”

  The argument was getting juicier by the second. Sam chuckled, lounging midair, arms behind his head. This was why he enjoyed places like these—so much information flying around in the form of insults.

  But the arrival of this particular person was what truly caught his attention.

  Young Master Ravinesan.

  The grandson of the Royal Physician. A mysterious candidate. The whispers about him carried more weight than the playful fan war happening below.

  Sam’s golden eyes narrowed slightly as he drifted closer to the sedan chair. The bearers, dressed in muted yet fine uniforms, carried it with the careful precision of people serving someone either extremely important—or extremely fragile.

  The curtains of the sedan fluttered slightly with the breeze, revealing a glimpse of the young master inside. A pale hand rested on the carved wooden frame, fingers long and slender, but slightly stiff. His posture was relaxed, yet something about it was… off.

  Sam, with his sharp instincts for the unusual, immediately noticed it.

  “This isn’t just about luxury,” he mused, chewing on his ever-present blade of grass. “This guy needs to be carried.”

  That changed things.

  If the grandson of the Royal Physician—a person raised in the heart of medical excellence—had to be carried instead of walking, it hinted at an underlying condition. A secret ailment? A chronic illness? Or maybe something even more interesting?

  The servant who had spoken earlier straightened his back and announced proudly, “Our young master is a true healer among healers! Unlike you brute warriors who only know how to swing weapons, he represents the art of medicine at its finest!”

  “A healer so great he can’t even walk?” Lady Adhira’s admirer quipped.

  A few laughs erupted from her side, but Ignis Sanctum’s members didn’t back down.

  “Unlike your barbarian queen, this young master atleast doesn’t need to run around beating people up. Intelligence is what wins battles, not muscle.”

  Now this was getting interesting.

  Adhira, a fierce warrior known for her brute strength, versus Ravinesan, a delicate yet supposedly brilliant healer. One valued brawn, the other valued brains. And somewhere in between, Bhaskaran, the sly fox, was waiting for his bet to unfold.

  Sam flipped onto his stomach, resting his chin on his palm, watching like an entertained spectator.

  “What a collection of characters,” he murmured. This festival just got a lot more fun.