I have a notice for the twenty successful candidates from the admissions trial for the Pharmacology Branch, School of Medicine, at Glacier Central Academy. The rest of you may return now.

Tisha addressed the disappointed crowd with an icy expression.

The group of students who had not passed looked dejected and began to file out through the entrance they had used to enter.

Tisha led Yang Ying and the other twenty successful candidates through a different door into what resembled a large conference room, spacious enough to accommodate thirty people around a long, imposing table.

, but An assistant was already waiting inside. Upon seeing them enter, he presented a report to Tisha.

“Sit down. Find yourselves a seat,” Tisha instructed, accepting the report and gesturing toward the long table.

Everyone found a spot around the table; the seating arrangement did not follow the order of the previous examination scores; people settled in casually. Tisha naturally took the head seat at one end of the table.

However, the first seat to Tisha’s right remained empty.

In the Empire, the right side signifies precedence, and that seat is traditionally reserved for the most honored guest, according to imperial custom.

Yang Ying did not take it because he had already studied Imperial Etiquette and benefited from Landon’s tutelage, giving him a thorough understanding of these customs. He had no desire to draw attention to himself in that position, especially since the results of the theoretical examination were still pending. Claiming the top spot now would seem overly eager and likely attract unfavorable notice.

The others clearly held the same sentiment; no one dared to assume the position of number one, so the seat remained vacant by default.

Tisha’s assistant sat in the first seat to the left. He greeted the group and introduced himself as a senior student within the Pharmacology Branch, currently studying under Tisha. Since Tisha was in charge of recruitment this time, he had called the assistant to help out.

After finishing the report, Tisha announced, “There is good news: you all passed your theoretical exams. Effective today, you are officially students of the Pharmacology Branch.”

“Yes!” The crowd erupted in cheers.

Yang Ying shrugged, a smile playing on his lips, but he remained silent; this outcome was precisely what he had anticipated.

After a moment, Tisha waited for the noise to subside and continued, “Since you have been accepted, you must reside at the Academy. What we are in now is merely a virtual campus. It’s fine for preliminary study, review, accessing public data, and conducting virtual experiments here. However, many other essential matters require your physical presence at the main campus. You must travel there as soon as possible to register. The term begins in one month.”

“Yes,” everyone responded.

Tisha scanned the group once more. “Regarding the schedule for the new term, tuition fees, miscellaneous matters, and accommodation, the Academy will issue an official charter to you. Simply follow the instructions in that document when you receive it.”

Tisha then detailed a few points requiring attention and inquired about the estimated time of arrival for each student. Yang Ying was the closest, staying in a hotel right next to the campus. Several others lived on Glacial Star and could arrive whenever they wished. Those residing on more distant planets could reach the Academy within a few days, with the farthest taking no more than ten days.

Tisha expressed his satisfaction with these timelines. Finally, he concluded, “If you are willing to arrive early, that is perfectly fine. The Academy will open the dormitories, library, and laboratories for you to familiarize yourselves with the environment first.”

A murmur went through the group. From their whispered comments, Yang Ying gathered that the facilities Tisha mentioned were not the ordinary library and laboratories but the renowned Core Library and Core Laboratories of Glacier Central Academy.

Although the virtual campus contained a library, it only housed general materials, such as school histories, collections of academy journals, and some popular science texts. The true essence of Glacier Central Academy’s research data could not be found there; the core materials were exclusively stored in the Core Library.

Moreover, the Core Library was not situated within the virtual campus, nor was it linked to any virtual world. This meant it was inaccessible from the public virtual sphere. Entry was only possible by physically arriving at the main campus Core Library and presenting a student identity.

The same applied to the Core Laboratories; the labs on the virtual campus were merely facades; the real advancements resided at the main campus.

This structure was common among almost all institutions of higher learning. Storing critical data in a virtual world was deemed too risky, as individuals proficient in the various rules governing virtual worlds—whom the Empire called Void Walkers, equivalent to Earth’s hackers—could potentially steal the data through various means.

“Your student IDs will be sent to your optical computers within a standard day. Once you receive them, you will be able to enter the main campus. Of course, as freshmen, the areas you can access will be limited, but it will be more than enough to keep you occupied for a while. Remember not to reach too far beyond your grasp,” Tisha stated sternly.

“Yes, Professor Tisha,” the students replied.

Tisha was the Vice Dean of the Pharmacology Branch. This detail was available on the Glacial Central Academy’s network database, which everyone had reviewed before applying, including Yang Ying.

As for the student IDs Tisha mentioned, they were virtual credentials. In the Empire, driver’s licenses, student IDs, work permits, Awakener certifications, and all other forms of identification existed as virtual data, fully integrated into the optical computer, ready to be displayed when needed—incredibly convenient.

After concluding all instructions, Tisha focused specifically on Dannan: “You must come as soon as possible. The Academy will prepare the Top-Grade Gene Activation Serum for you; we will administer the injection as soon as you arrive.”

The Top-Grade Gene Activation Serum was an Eighth-Grade agent, equivalent in difficulty to a Mid-Tier Longevity Serum; otherwise, Landon would not have been allowed to use it for practice. While valuable to Glacier Central Academy, this serum was not exceedingly rare. In comparison, the value of a genius like Dannan far outweighed the cost of a single vial.

Everyone could see that Dannan came from humble origins and clearly could not afford an Eighth-Grade serum. Tisha had asked him if he had ever used any other type of gene activation serum. Dannan had replied that he had not. Fortunately so, because if he had used any gene activation serum previously, his potential would have been stimulated once. If he had not Awakened at that time, the effect upon a second attempt—regardless of which serum was used—would be reduced to almost nothing, leaving less than a one-in-a-hundred chance for even the Top-Grade serum to induce Awakening.

Dannan was evidently a person of immense pride. The reason he had never used a gene activation serum was that he refused to leave his future to chance. He earned his place at Glacier Central Academy through sheer effort, clearly aiming for the Top-Grade Gene Activation Serum. This was his only opportunity outside of purchasing it outright.

The Top-Grade Gene Activation Serum was also Yang Ying’s goal, a pursuit that led him to infiltrate the unfamiliar True Human Empire. Yet, now that he was so close to his objective, he felt no anxiety. Instead, he intended to fully immerse himself in studying the Empire’s knowledge at Glacier Central Academy. There were many areas here that could offer him enlightenment; mastering them and bringing that knowledge back would benefit the Insectoid, Human, and Three-Clan races immensely.

After leaving the virtual campus, Yang Ying returned to his hotel room in the real world and spent an uneventful night.

The next morning, he found a notification on his optical computer indicating he had received correspondence from Glacier Central Academy. Upon opening it, he confirmed it was indeed the acceptance letter, which read something along the lines of, “Welcome, Student Igor, to our esteemed institution,” followed by a mention of his student ID being included as an attachment.

Yang Ying opened the attachment. His optical computer’s sapphire component projected a holographic image of a crystal-clear student ID. It displayed Igor’s name and a full-body holographic portrait, explicitly stating “Glacier Central Academy Student ID” and “School of Medicine, Pharmacology Branch.”

With the student ID in hand, entering and exiting the campus became much simpler. Yang Ying checked out of the hotel, crossed an intersection, and walked a short distance to the main gate of the Glacier Central Academy campus.

The main gate of Glacier Central Academy was magnificent and imposing. Yang Ying estimated it to be about fifteen meters high and twenty meters wide, featuring ancient lines that exuded a sense of deep history. Rumor had it the gate had stood for a thousand years, a genuine relic. However, given that the Empire spanned tens of thousands of years, countless antiques remained, making this gate merely ordinary. Which elite academy across the Empire lacked some historical monument?

The entrance was blocked by a shimmering white light screen, much like a stage curtain, yet the color was brilliantly radiant without being harsh. Through the screen, a line of robotic guards could be seen standing watch and patrolling.

Yang Ying took two steps forward, preparing to enter. As he neared the light screen, he tapped his forehead. Instantly, a blue light shot out from his sapphire, carrying the image of the student ID, which shot toward the screen. It immediately punched a gap in the screen, large enough for one person to pass through.

Had he lacked the student ID, this light screen would have been an impenetrable wall, capable of resisting the impact of a peak Third-Grade master.

Of course, Yang Ying could have forced his way through with brute strength, but doing so would have triggered a full campus alarm. Furthermore, the alert signal connected directly to the police station in Eternal Snow City and an Imperial Mecha Regiment stationed one hundred kilometers to the south. The ensuing fallout would likely spiral beyond control.

Consequently, very few people dared to cause trouble at Glacier Central Academy.

After entering, Yang Ying did not head straight for the Core Library or the Core Laboratories. Instead, he circumnavigated the campus. His optical computer contained a highly detailed map of the Academy, clearly indicating the function of every location and building.

Yang Ying was doing this to familiarize himself with the grounds, as, barring unforeseen circumstances, he would be spending about two years here. If he didn't take the time to appreciate it now, when would he? To know what happens next, please log on to [website address], for more chapters, support the author, and enjoy legitimate reading!