The Pseudo-Human Academy: Starting with a Bricklayer Personality

The pseudo-chosen one's eyes darted around for a while, and finally, his Adam's apple bobbed as he answered:

"The blood dripping from the young girl stained the cherry blossoms red."

The gazes of the two puppet warriors were fixed on him, their masks resembling those of ferocious demons, their deep voices like clashing boulders:

"His heart is tainted with evil; he deserves punishment!"

Before the words were even finished, the katana was already raised high above his head, its cold light slicing through the thick fog as it slashed down.

The fake man was prepared; he pulled out a blood-stained knight's shield and held his greatsword in front of it, intending to take the hit head-on.

But the force of the samurai sword falling was far beyond what was expected. The shield instantly cracked with spiderweb-like fissures, and the greatsword was knocked out of his hand.

In the blink of an eye, he was killed on the spot by the combined attack of the two warriors!

The fake man's powerful vitality was useless at this moment; amidst screams, his body was cleaved into pieces.

Blood mixed with bits of flesh splattered on the bluestone slabs at the city entrance. A flash of white light and the remains of the pseudo-human chosen one were teleported out of the instance. It seemed that the resurrection item had taken effect.

Ye Ningyun frowned deeply as she watched this scene, her expression growing increasingly grave.

Luigi glanced at the two warriors standing like door gods, a hint of apprehension flashing in his eyes:

"The two puppet warriors each have a physical constitution of around four points. When they join forces, they can kill a Chosen One with a physical constitution of six points."

"The first level is already this tough. It seems that the Destiny Artifacts in this national war dungeon are indeed extraordinary."

"Continue with the drawing of lots." Qin Yu's voice was calm, as if the bloody scene just now was nothing out of the ordinary.

The bamboo skewer landed, and this time it was South Korea's turn.

A thin boy was pushed out by his companions. He was pale and staggered toward the city gate.

The samurai once again blocked the way with his sword, repeating that strange question:

"The cherry blossoms fall in three colors: pink for the first offering, black for the birth of evil spirits, and red for the knife offering."

"What color of cherry blossoms were stained by the blood of the maiden who sacrificed herself a thousand years ago?"

The boy's jaw was chattering; he had already eliminated one answer and now had a 50/50 chance of getting it right.

Thinking this through, he forced himself to answer:

"The girl's blood... stained the pink cherry blossoms red."

A familiar, cold voice rang out:

"His heart is tainted with evil; he deserves punishment!"

The katana was raised again, about to fall, when a faint white light suddenly appeared on the boy's body, triggering his universal skill of invulnerability!

The two warriors suddenly stopped moving, their blades hovering three inches above his head, unable to move any further.

The boy was terrified and scrambled back to the group, his back already soaked in cold sweat.

"The answer must be Black Sakura, right?" Hikawa Okamoto of the Sakura Empire scoffed, thinking the riddle was nothing special.

Xu Feng shook his head, rubbing his chin with his fingertips, his eyes full of doubt.

He felt the answer was probably not that simple.

The metaphors of the three cherry blossoms are not simply a matter of elimination; both incorrect answers only triggered the "Heartstained with Evil" effect.

Furthermore, it doesn't say that the three colors of cherry blossoms cannot be combined and arranged, which means there may be more than one answer.

No sooner had the words been spoken than the results of the next round of drawing lots were announced, and this time France was drawn.

A blond, blue-eyed French chosen one stepped forward. He was dressed in a crisp, turquoise tactical uniform, his hand resting on the short blade at his waist, and his expression remained relatively calm.

But just as he reached the city gate, the two samurai suddenly sheathed their swords, their eyes behind their masks growing increasingly sinister, and asked a completely different question, their voices carrying the rustling sound of falling cherry blossoms:

"Pink cherry blossoms hide wishes, black cherry blossoms hide curses, and red cherry blossoms hide calamities. In the first sacrifice, the maiden's heart held neither resentment nor hatred, only the wish for peace in the city. In which color of cherry blossom did she entrust her wish?"

The French Chosen One was taken aback, clearly not expecting the situation to change so suddenly.

The crowd immediately became serious; there was more than one answer!

He frowned and pondered for a moment, recalling that his previous two answers both revolved around the theme of "red staining," yet both were judged as ominous. He immediately gritted his teeth and answered:

"Neither stained with blood by red cherry blossoms, nor cursed by black cherry blossoms, a young girl's wish should be for pink cherry blossoms!"

The samurai were silent for a moment, then a low, cold snort came from beneath their masks:

"Knowing only the surface without understanding the underlying principles is punishable!"

Before he finished speaking, the thick fog in Shenying Village suddenly surged, and countless blackened cherry blossom branches sprouted from the ground, about to entangle the limbs of the French Chosen One.

Upon seeing this, the French chosen one immediately raised both hands in fluent French and said:

"I am French, I surrender!"

At the same time, a phantom image of a waving white flag appeared above the head of the French Chosen One.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Talent: French Descent

Raising both hands immediately triggers the attack. Upon triggering, the user will subconsciously shout "surrender" in French, and a miniature white flag will float above their head, preventing one bizarre attack and causing the bizarre to lose its target.

Cooldown time: 12 hours

Note: No one could occupy Paris before France surrendered.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Xu Feng gasped upon seeing this. This Gallic Rooster's special talent was too insidious!

Is this even playable?

The Frenchman, with his hands raised, ran back to the group.

Luigi, with a pained expression, said:

"What should we do? Another new problem. Who knows if there will be other problems later? How many more lives will we have to lose?"

Xu Feng's eyes narrowed. He knew far too little crucial information; he couldn't deduce anything from the samurai's questions and could only remain bewildered.

Qin Yu's expression changed slightly, and he looked at everyone and said:

"Let's keep drawing lots. We'll be able to pass the first stage after a few dozen tries."

Cherry blossoms still fall in the city, creating a serene and peaceful scene.

The two warriors stood with their swords drawn again, waiting for the next person to answer the question, on the bluestone slab at the entrance of the city.

There was a pool of dark red blood left by a fake human, mixed with the falling pink cherry blossoms, making it even more eerie.

The draw is over, and this time, the pointer of fate points directly to China.

Qin Yu slowly raised his eyes, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd of people with different expressions like a hawk, finally settling on Xu Feng almost imperceptibly.

The young man, dressed in a sharp suit just like him, exuded a maturity beyond his years, which greatly displeased Qin Yu.

His thin lips parted slightly, his voice indifferent, without the slightest redundancy:

"Everyone, those with skills, report your skills; those with talent, report your talent. I need to immediately distinguish whose abilities are useful weapons and whose are merely useless burdens."

The words had barely left her lips when a rapid response erupted from the crowd. A stylishly dressed young woman stepped forward first, her voice brimming with barely concealed excitement, as if eagerly seeking recognition:

"Young Master Qin! My talent is Possession Protection, which allows me to attach myself to a target and shield them from a fatal crisis! Cooldown time: 24 hours."