However, Fane was altogether of a different pedigree. He did not come from a prestigious family nor possess a high level of cultivation so of course he was ripped for their insults. Zeph clenched his fists tightly. He would have shut Fane up with a punch on the face if it was not for the last shred of reasons controlling him.
He had become a laughing stock and he would do anything to stop Fane from creating more malicious gossip. "Do you think you can turn things around by slandering me? Where’s your proof?”
Fane smiled lightly and straightened himself up. “Ditto. Where's your proof? You say you received the reports of me being a spy from your disciples. Then summon them here for an interrogation! I would like
to know just where I met up with the people of the Muddled Origin Clan too."
Zeph took a deep breath and there seemed to be electricity flashing in his eyes. He had a lightbulb moment—the malicious gossip was just a means to the end. He was impressed by Fane's quick-witted thinking. It was a classic case of 'if you can’t beat them, join them.'
All along, he aimed to find a way for Zeph to let him take the test. There was no way Zeph would disregard his question now that he had forced him into a corner and judging from the cold beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, the words had achieved their intended effect. He was going to refuse Fane’s request but what was the worst that could happen if he let him take the test? The chances are, Fane would fail so horribly and be branded as a spy forever.
"Fine, you can take the test but remember what you said," Zeph said finally. He and the rest of the crowd did not doubt that Fane would not be able to light up the fifth light. After all, three thousand people had already tried and not one of them succeeded. Thus, what could an initial stage of the innate level fighter possibly do?
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