Triumphing Through Trials (Part 2)

The final investigation yielded clear facts and ample evidence: Kaman's attendant had fed him tainted food, causing his collapse in the examination hall. Francis and Aliza, on the other hand, had not left their tent all night, a fact corroborated by several priests on night watch.

Given the Holy Church of Battle Gods' supreme authority, the examinees readily believed the investigation report. Moreover, Two-Star Fighter level battle qi did not yet grant immunity to all ailments, and cases of Orange-Robed Martial Fighters suffering food poisoning were not unheard of.

Of course, not everyone believed it. Kaman's father, Duke Widener, the chief examiner representing the Lanning Empire in these trials, was one such disbeliever. Yet, when he demanded an appeal, Godfather Ferdinand simply fixed him with a stern gaze. 'Widener,' he boomed, 'Are you questioning the authority of the Holy Church of Battle Gods!?'

The Minister of Imperial Rites promptly shut his mouth. His tenure as chief examiner had been rather emasculated; he held rights only for preliminary planning and assisting the Holy Church of Battle Gods during the trials. Matters of scoring and adjudication were entirely beyond his purview.

Poor Young Master Kaman received a resounding zero in the first round of combat trials. Furthermore, due to the severity of his poisoning, he was forced to withdraw from the examination, deferring his chances until next year.

Francis, however, successfully advanced to the second round.

The second round commenced a day later. His opponent's identity was of no import; Francis hadn't even bothered to remember the name. This particular contestant had already been bought off by the Holy Church of Battle Gods and would willingly concede defeat. His excuse was: 'I am a cultivator of fire-attributed battle qi, and Sigurd is my faith. I would never cross swords with a scion of the Saint-Shine Battle God!'

In the third round, Francis's opponent had been maimed in the previous bout and arrived leaning on a crutch. Young Master Francis, without an ounce of politeness, kicked his crutch clean in half, securing his advancement!

The fourth round pitted him against an infatuated maiden from Saint John City. The moment Francis offered her a smile and a nod, she joyfully leaped from the arena, rushing off to brag to her girlfriends. 'Heavens, Young Master Francis smiled at me!' she squealed. 'My beauty truly rivals that of Princess Yuna!'

Watching the lovestruck girl's receding back, Francis could only watch, dumbfounded and a little dispirited. Though this was an orchestrated charade arranged by Godfather Ferdinand… wasn't it a bit *too* obvious?

Thankfully, Francis later learned that the maiden was notoriously infatuated in her daily life, not just during the trials, but in her everyday existence; her legendary infatuation was widely known! Thus, examinees familiar with her raised no objections to Francis's advancement in this round.

Fifth round: The opponent had urgent family matters and withdrew from the examination at the last minute. Francis advanced!

Sixth round: Er, wasn't there a bye slot this round? It went without saying who would receive it.

By the seventh round, Francis was 'poisoned,' supposedly because that silly child Aliza had fed him something unclean. However, he wasn't as unfortunate as Kaman, recovering just in time for the conclusion of the seventh group's trials.

This 'poisoning' incident was, of course, a deliberate arrangement by Francis. After all, he carried the reputation of a good-for-nothing. If such a person claimed first place, the examinees would likely revolt. Moreover, passing six consecutive rounds of combat trials was already quite outlandish; to use such blatant means to catapult Francis to first place… a rational cheat would never commit such an egregious blunder!

Ultimately, the top scorer of the seventh group was Sem, the Xino Dwarf. On the tenth day of the examination, he contended with the top scorers of the other nineteen groups for the overall championship, but was unfortunately defeated. The one who bested him was none other than Francis's second elder brother, Charles.

On the eleventh day, all examinees reconvened at Saint Bovin Square, before the Palace of Versailles, to hear the examiners announce the scores and the final candidates admitted into Saint John Cathedral.

Compared to when they first entered, several hundred examinees were now absent, and most of those remaining bore injuries. Still, over three thousand remained, packed densely onto Saint Bovin Square.

Francis, perched on Aliza's shoulders, strained to locate his eldest brother. Wiping sweat from his brow, he asked, 'Big Brother, you didn't intentionally lose to a pretty girl this time, did you?'

'Oh, my dear younger brother, you're alive! How marvelous!' Steve enveloped Francis in a bear hug, exclaiming affectionately. 'It seems you conceded. Don't worry, I'll shield you from Father's wrath when we get home!'

Francis merely chuckled.

Steve sighed again. 'Alas, what a pity! I didn't encounter a single beauty, just all bloody men! Heh heh, so I showed no mercy. I'm the second-place finisher in Group Four!' He then added, a hint of worry in his voice, 'But the written examination this year was quite difficult. I'm afraid it might drag me down!'

'Difficult?' Francis hadn't noticed.

'How can it not be difficult? In my examination hall, more than twenty hadn't even finished! Take the seventh question, for example: it actually asked who the coronation attendant was when Pope Sama ascended five hundred years ago! Dammit, why didn't they just ask me the color of Pope Sama's underwear?'

Just then, the doors of the Palace of Versailles swung open, and Duke Widener emerged, his face like thunder, holding aloft a rolled-up scroll of proclamations.

'The results are out! Talk later!' Steve watched Widener with bated breath.

When Steve heard his own score of seventy-five points, he whooped with delight. 'Yes! I definitely passed!' He scooped Francis into a hug, spinning him around repeatedly, reveling in his excitement.

'Francis Saint Sigurd Cain: one hundred points!'

Thump!

Steve, utterly dumbfounded, accidentally dropped Francis to the ground. 'Ancestors above! My dear brother, you… you actually scored a perfect mark!?'

Francis innocently picked himself up, dusting himself off, and said with a helpless shrug, 'What can I say? The questions were just too easy!'

Indeed, the examination consisted entirely of objective questions that could be answered purely by memorization, and Francis's memory was now freakishly powerful!

Steve gazed at him blankly, no longer surprised even when Widener announced 'Charles, ninety points.'

'My dear Big Brother, calm yourself. Your little brother advises you to maintain a calm mind, because you're about to be even more shocked!' Francis instructed.

'Why?'

'Well, my combat trials—I passed six rounds. Although they were all rather dishonorable victories, only six points each, that still adds up to thirty-six points. Add that to my perfect score on the written examination, and Godfather's blessing, I should have… heh heh, one hundred sixty-six points!' He recounted his 'good fortune,' finally chuckling, 'By the seventh round, I couldn't even believe my luck would continue, so I just feigned illness and withdrew!'

'Alas!' Steve sighed. 'My brother, you're likely the first person in history to be admitted into the Battle God Academy without being able to cultivate battle qi!'

'Isn't there still a final round?' Francis countered. 'There's a final examination within Saint John Cathedral. I'm not guaranteed to get those last hundred points!'

'The final round doesn't usually test martial prowess. This round primarily assesses the examinees' character. My dear brother, if even your rascal of a big brother is confident of passing, what have you to fear?'

Francis could only offer a wry smile.

As expected, all three brothers of the Saint Sigurd Cain family gained entry into Saint John Cathedral.

Francis wasn't privy to how the other examinees underwent this final round. When he arrived at a small room, he found seven or eight priests, two heavily armored warriors, and Godfather Ferdinand seated inside. They were gathered around a circular table, comfortably chatting.

Godfather Ferdinand gestured for Francis to sit at the table, smiling. 'Gentlemen,' he announced, 'This is the child protected by our mysterious friend. Aside from his inability to cultivate battle qi, everything about him is quite perfect!'

'Indeed! Smooth-skinned and tender!' remarked a red-bearded warrior sitting beside Godfather Ferdinand, as he appraised Francis.

Godfather Ferdinand introduced, 'This is Mars, the Battle God, who has journeyed specifically from the Holy See. He is also the chief of the Six Imperial Guardian Battle Gods under His Holiness the Pope, holding authority equal to that of a Godfather!'

*’So, the Pope's personal ace brawler,’* Francis mused with a mischievous glint. Outwardly, he bowed. 'Esteemed Mars, the Battle God, it is an honor to meet you!'

'Hm, let's dispense with the pleasantries,' Mars rumbled, his temperament matching his rugged appearance: bold, straightforward, and direct. 'Francis, there's a matter I'd like to discuss with you.'

A knot formed in Francis's stomach. The Holy Church of Battle Gods had spared no effort in assisting him, bestowing immense benefits. Clearly, it was time for repayment.