He probably still hadn’t awakened as an atavist yet, which was why Long Ling had only given him water and bread for now. It wouldn’t be until later, after signs of atavism appeared and Long Ling discovered them, that she would truly start valuing him—taking him away, caring for him personally, and even helping him get revenge.

From that moment on, she would gain a shadow-like loyal hound.

As the car drew closer, Long Ling noticed it too. She recognized it at a glance as a vehicle belonging to the Long family. Proud atavist families always plastered their clan crests over all kinds of possessions to flaunt their prestige and uniqueness. Their crests were usually based on the forms of their atavist ancestors.

Long Ling’s heart skipped a beat.

Although she couldn’t see through the blackened windows, she understood immediately.

Long Jin was inside.

The day had finally come.

She had come to take the entrance examination.

She was about to enter Twelve Zodiac Academy.

But Long Ling calmed down very quickly.

So what if Long Jin wasn’t as easy to deal with as they had imagined? Yes, she had been shaken a little at first, but she recovered almost immediately.

No matter what, it was still true that Long Jin had spent her whole life in the countryside. It was true that after graduating middle school, she had worked as a cashier in a supermarket in some rural town.

So Long Ling was definitely superior to her.

Whether in reputation, academics, or worldly experience.

She had even already managed to enter that social circle through her quick wits during the events in Changhai Prefecture. As for whether Long Jin could be accepted by them… that was another matter entirely.

There were still countless ways she could strike at Long Jin.

She would never give up.

She had to dig out Long Jin’s dragon pearl and make it her own.

This was her only chance to stand at the very top.

The Long family’s dragon-shaped crest was extremely recognizable. Very quickly, news spread across the school forum.

Everyone knew Long Jin had arrived.

【Breaking news, breaking news—Long Jin is here!!!】

【Wonder what grade she’ll enter.】

【First year, obviously. Didn’t she only awaken a few days ago? She probably has no idea how to control atavist powers. Zero points. She just enrolled, so her daily points are zero too. And didn’t she stop studying after middle school? She probably can’t even remember elementary-school material anymore. There’s no way she’ll earn many points.】

【Oof, that’s so embarrassing though. She’s seventeen but has to study in a grade where most students are only ten. That’s social death. Long Ling’s been in the top five of her year since the second semester of first year, and she ranked third in last month’s exams.】

【Why are some people sneakily comparing them? If it weren’t for An Yao, Long Jin might’ve been top five too.】

Although many people believed Long Ling was innocent, that didn’t mean they thought Long Jin deserved to be trampled beneath her. So overall, the atmosphere on the forums leaned toward the idea that both girls were innocent, and that everything was the scumbag father’s fault. Long Jin shouldn’t bully Long Ling, and Long Ling shouldn’t use Long Jin to elevate herself either.

Yet despite the seemingly peaceful atmosphere on the surface, Long Ling had already studied at Twelve Zodiac Academy for six years. She had known many classmates since the age of ten and built deep relationships with them.

Compared to Long Jin, a complete stranger, they naturally chose to stand by Long Ling’s side. They unconsciously began viewing themselves as opposing Long Jin, and they hoped Long Jin would be inferior to Long Ling in every possible way so their choice of sides would feel more justified.

Twelve Zodiac Academy combined middle school and university into one institution. Although there were no high school or college entrance exams, the academic standards were far stricter than any ordinary school outside.

So, just like students and teachers elsewhere, they cared deeply about grades. Academic geniuses and top students were still figures everyone admired.

In the original story, aside from being an atavist, Long Jin truly was inferior to Long Ling in every aspect.

Her academic scores were terrible.

Her control over her atavist powers was also awful because of the pressure caused by malicious gazes from every direction and the chaotic turmoil in her mind.

Even by the year she committed suicide, she still hadn’t advanced to sixth year to participate in field missions.

Meanwhile, although Long Ling wasn’t an atavist at the time, she was still able to accompany missions under the protection of her atavist friends, sharing in their achievements and mission credits. She became the most beloved goddess of both the Ordinary Division and the Atavist Division, ascending to the “Dragon Throne” among the Twelve Zodiac seats.

The difference between them was heaven and earth.

Everyone said Long Jin didn’t deserve to be a dragon atavist.

Long Ling was the one who truly should have been.

And so, one day, Long Jin’s depression finally erupted. She jumped from the highest tower in the school.

At that moment, the atavist power she had never once managed to control perfectly was finally mastered completely—

She sealed every trace of it flawlessly into her dragon pearl so that her body, no longer entirely human, wouldn’t survive the fall.

Although the character “Long Jin” had only been briefly mentioned in the original novel, Jing Pei’s character notes and drafts described in detail the short and tragic life she had lived.

Jing Pei touched her chest.

“What’s wrong?” Long Yiming asked in confusion.

Jing Pei replied, “Mm. Just checking whether I actually have a conscience.”

Long Yiming: …

Although he didn’t really understand, judging from the way she looked like she was eagerly anticipating a good show, she probably didn’t.

“What’s that over there?” Jing Pei suddenly pointed toward something outside that resembled a bulletin board.

“Bonus questions. You don’t need to pay attention to them,” Long Yiming said.

Twelve Zodiac Academy had twelve grade levels and primarily used a point-based promotion system.

The Ordinary Division advanced through academic points and daily points. As long as students accumulated enough points, they could move up at any time.

The Atavist Division, meanwhile, advanced through academic points, atavist power control scores, and mission points. If students continuously failed to reach the required score, they would be held back indefinitely and could even face expulsion.

Boards like these were scattered throughout the school grounds. They displayed difficult questions created by teachers from every subject.

Each question was worth a full twenty points.

One had to understand that even scoring full marks on an exam only earned a single point, while failing could actually deduct points instead.

That alone showed how difficult these problems were.

Some questions remained unsolved for years after being posted, to the point that thick layers of dust had accumulated over the pen boxes beneath the boards.

Naturally, cheating was impossible.

The moment a student solved one of the problems, the teacher who created it would immediately produce another question of the same type and equal difficulty on the spot. If you could solve the first one, then naturally you should also be able to solve the second. Only then could you prove you hadn’t cheated and actually receive the points.

If cheating was discovered, twenty points would be deducted instead.

As a result, very few students dared take that risk.

The reason Long Yiming told Jing Pei not to bother with the bonus questions was naturally because he believed they had nothing to do with her.

Jing Pei was definitely entering the Atavist Division. She had only awakened a few days ago, so her atavist power control score was guaranteed to be zero. Since she had just enrolled, her daily points were also zero. Even if she scored full marks in every subject, it wouldn’t help much.

So she would definitely have to start accumulating points from first year onward.

Whether she could even gather the fifty points necessary to advance to second year this semester was questionable. And even if she barely managed that, advancing from second year to third required one hundred points, while advancing to fourth year required three hundred.

It was far too difficult.

She was destined to spend quite some time as classmates with children of elementary or middle-school age.

“That looks pretty interesting. Stop the car,” Jing Pei suddenly said.

Long Yiming frowned and checked his watch, but still instructed the driver to stop.

Jing Pei walked over to one of the question boards.

Displayed on it was a physics problem. Judging from the dust accumulated on the pen box beneath the board, the problem had likely been sitting there for at least three months.

The moment she looked at it, Jing Pei found it strangely familiar.

After thinking for several seconds, she suddenly struck one fist into her palm.

Right.

Wasn’t this the exact problem she’d solved during the International Collegiate Physics Competition back in her freshman year of university?

It truly was difficult.

Back then, she had been the only contestant among all participating countries who solved it.

Long Yiming was just about to urge her to hurry up. Once he delivered her to the principal’s office, he still had to head to work.

Then he watched as Jing Pei opened the pen box that hadn’t been touched in three months, picked up a pen, and began solving the problem on the whiteboard.

The instant the pen tip touched the board, the sensor system hidden behind it activated.

The teacher who had posted the question was currently sitting in the bathroom taking a dump when his phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out and opened the app he hadn’t touched in months.

On the screen, every stroke Jing Pei wrote appeared simultaneously on the teacher’s phone in real time.

At the same time, the surveillance camera switched on, capturing the girl currently solving the problem.

Huh???

Wasn’t this the dragon baby the Long family had just brought back a few days ago?!

It was actually her?!

Hadn’t everyone agreed she’d have to start from first year? Wasn’t she supposed to be academically hopeless?

Then why was she solving his problem?!

Still in shock, he watched Jing Pei finish the solution and set the pen down.

And she’d actually gotten it right?

As a result, a second problem gradually appeared on the whiteboard.

Jing Pei had to solve it within the time limit in order to receive the twenty points.

This also proved that she had indeed solved the first question correctly, causing Long Yiming—who had originally assumed she was just scribbling nonsense—to widen his eyes in disbelief.

He too had graduated from Twelve Zodiac Academy.

He knew exactly how absurdly difficult the questions on these boards were.

Less than five minutes later, Jing Pei put down the pen again.

Problems of the same type all followed the same underlying principles.

Once you understood them, they became incredibly easy.

Twenty points obtained.

Jing Pei turned toward another question board not far away and walked over.

This time, it was a mathematics problem.

Perfect.

Among all the sciences, mathematics had always been her strongest subject.

Doing math calmed her down.

Whenever her thoughts became chaotic and she couldn’t settle her mind, all she needed was a few Olympiad math practice papers to regain her composure.

Very quickly, another twenty points were hers.

Then Jing Pei found a third question board.

Soon after—

Another twenty points.

A total of sixty points earned.

At this point, she had already accumulated enough points to fully satisfy the first-year advancement requirements, with ten extra points to spare.

She could already advance directly to second year.

But Jing Pei didn’t stop.

It was almost as though she’d become addicted.

She started roaming all over the school searching for more question boards.

+20 points

+20 points

+20 points

+20 points

…

Very quickly, the news spread across the academy like wildfire.

Even students currently in class stopped paying attention to lessons, secretly lowering their heads to furiously type on their phones.

【HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT! Long Jin is mass-clearing bonus questions!!】

【Help—wasn’t she only a middle-school graduate??? Those are questions even twelfth-years might not be able to solve!!】

【Wait, what are you guys talking about? Long Jin is solving bonus questions?? And getting them all right??】

【I’m watching her solve them in person right now. I don’t know why, but the longer I watch, the higher my head tilts upward. She’s… she’s terrifyingly good】

【Also on-site. I feel like I’m about to kneel】

【She’s not human. She’s the legendary academic god!】

【Isn’t she way better than Long Ling then?? I remember Long Ling only solves one bonus question occasionally, right?? Why is Long Jin doing these like she’s eating breakfast?!】

【…At this rate she could probably grind bonus-question points all the way to graduation】

Long Ling noticed the strange silent commotion among her classmates and frowned in confusion.

She hesitated over whether to take out her phone.

But she worried about being caught by the teacher and losing points.

At this school, not a single point came easily.

And she needed to maintain first place in the Ordinary Division and a top-five combined ranking across both divisions.

She absolutely could not allow herself to fall behind those heaven-favored prodigies from the atavist families.

Yet as she noticed more and more mouths silently forming the words “Long Jin,” her heart began pounding wildly and her fingers twitched uncontrollably.

She couldn’t stop herself from wanting to know what was happening.

Finally, she took out her phone.

The moment she saw the forum posts discussing Jing Pei the academic god, her heart abruptly sank.

And after opening the posts and reading them carefully, her expression became uglier and uglier.

…

Without realizing it, Jing Pei had already become surrounded by countless students and several teachers.

There were sixty-six question boards throughout Twelve Zodiac Academy.

Jing Pei specifically targeted science problems.

The humanities were another matter entirely.

The instant she saw the first politics question, she turned around and walked away.

Jing Pei wanted to advance to seventh year.

Each twenty points required solving two questions, which meant she needed to solve at least two hundred and fifty-five problems to earn 2,550 points.

An entire morning passed.

Because she was an atavist, neither her arms nor legs felt tired at all. She tapped on another blank question board and asked, “There aren’t any more? That’s it?”

The science teachers—who had already been repeatedly drained dry and squeezed until they couldn’t come up with a single new question anymore:

This was outright bullying!!!