Still, Han Yu had no choice. If he disobeyed now, death might actually be a mercy compared to whatever Elder Nie Jing had in store for him.
STEP… STEP… STEP…
With the grace of a man walking into his own funeral—after tripping on the stairs—Han Yu staggered toward the dais.
"HUMPH!" Elder Nie Jing scoffed. He didn't even bother saying anything, as if wasting words on Han Yu might shorten his lifespan.
Already knowing the process, Han Yu pricked his finger on the appraisal crystal and let a drop of blood fall.
He barely felt the pain. The stress of the moment had overridden everything else—he was a walking bundle of nerves, sweat, and desperate prayer.
He stared at the talent appraisal tablet, hoping—begging—that the heavens might take pity on him.
Time slowed. Every second dragged like an eternity. The tablet remained silent.
"Huh?"
"Why's it taking so long?"
But no—it wasn't time that had slowed.
It was the tablet.
