These words were all spoken in low whispers; with more than 20 Grandmasters present, no one dared to speak too loudly.

Even then, all the Grandmasters heard of the murmurs and looked at Kale with a strange glint. The old Grandmaster who opened the door of the class stated to Kale coldly, "Hey, you stupid kid? Why are you covering your Soul Sigil mark on your forehead? Take it off already."

Kale frowned internally. He really didn’t like how the situation was unfolding, and why wasn’t his stupid master here....

With no choice in hand, he took off the piece of cloth given by Lazek after a moment of hesitation, and the instant he did so, all the Grandmasters looked at him with a trace of shock. Not because of the black, putrid color of his soul sigil, signifying his cursed status.

Rather, due to the distinction of the symbol, the mark of a tamer.

Even many of the disciples were shocked, after all, not everyone knew of him beforehand.

The old Grandmaster visibly frowned, "A tamer?"

A suffocating air surrounded Kale as if all the mana in the air wanted to crush him; he felt a severe sense of danger drowning him, and the Grandmaster stated in a threatening tone, "BOY!! DID YOU LIE TO ME MOMENTS AGO?"

"HOW DARE YOU, A TAMER HAS ENTERED WITHIN THE MAIN TOWER OF THE ASSOCIATION AND PRETENDING TO BE AN ARTIFICER?"

The other Grandmasters might have remained silent, but their gazes were all filled with annoyance, as well as anger.

Kale’s eyes turned cold. He drew out the token his master had given and threw it towards the old Grandmaster. The man caught the object and examined it thoroughly for a moment.

His expression changed swiftly as he realized the token was indeed authentic, but it only made him even more displeased. The old Grandmaster threw the token, which hovered in the air, as the senses of the other Grandmasters also scanned it, verifying its authenticity.

The old Grandmaster eventually said in a begrudging tone, "Go on, take a seat...."

Kale nodded expressionlessly and went on to sit in a corner on a single bench.

He could hear the mocking murmurs from the disciples, coming from all around him and targeting his ears.

Kale remained expressionless. No amount of talking shit would show a change on his face; he was not inclined to let these fools feel good about themselves for provoking him.

It was at this moment that another fat-looking, green-robed Grandmaster started speaking, addressing everyone equally, "As it was going before the interruption. We will resume questioning. Those who know the answers to the questions will raise their hands above. And then we will select who will be answering."

Everyone nodded as their expressions turned solemn, all except Kale, whom the Grandmasters noticed immediately, as they were still paying attention to him; his cursed mark was an attention-grabber.

They were interested in him, not because of his cursed status, but primarily because of his being a Tamer and being the disciple of Lazek Oberon.

From what Kale had come to know, even though most people did not know of Lazek’s status as a monstrous talent in all three professions. He was still one of the best when it came to Fleshcrafting.

There was also the fact that Lazek was the 7th disciple of the Association leader. For these reasons, Lazek’s status was quite high, even amongst the circle of the Grandmasters, despite his master not being a Grandmaster Artificer yet.

"Let’s start with something simple, what’s the melting point of a fully processed Pill Core..." asked the chubby green-robed Grandmaster.

Everyone raised their hands, everyone except Kale.

All the disciples began to laugh mockingly. The chubby Grandmaster gave him a brief, displeased glance, and he pointed it towards a certain disciple at the front, who answered immediately with a smug look, "250 degrees Celsius. But the moment any Pill experiences a temperature over 100 degrees, its quality greatly diminishes. And at the point of 150 degrees, most of its medicinal effects are already gone."

The Grandmaster nodded with a smile, pleased with the answer as it described every scenario of the Pill core’s melting, not just the hard melting point of the material itself.

The man asked again, "What’s the freezing point of a Pill Core...."

Again, everyone raised their hands except for Kale, of course.

The questions asked so far were all basic, which is why everyone could answer them. But there were three categories of the disciples here, just like the Grandmasters.

The chubby Grandmaster this time did not even look at Kale and picked another random disciple who answered, in a similar manner, describing three freezing points, each of which would have varying effects on the Pill Core.

This continued for a while, and every time a question was asked, most, if not everyone, would raise their hands, excluding Kale.

Then came the turn of another Grandmaster, who wore a brown robe, indicating that he was a Toolcrafter.

This time, he asked a complicated question, and only one-third of the disciples raised their hands. Even then, the one chosen to answer could not provide the correct answer.

Eventually, it was the turn of the old Grandmaster, who opened the door for Kale and also humiliated him. There was a smile on his lips. Just as he was about to speak, a loud knock on the door was heard again.

The man instantly frowned. Previously, it was the same; whenever he wanted to speak, someone would interrupt him. He shouted, "Which bastard is it this time?"

BANG!!!

Yet, the response came in the form of a bashing sound echoing from the door.

The Grandmaster became furious, and as the man opened the door and saw who was on the other side, he was flabbergasted.

A ruffian-like, loud voice echoed in the classroom, "This bastard has come, and what are you going to do about it?"

Kale’s eyes glinted; he couldn’t see clearly who it was, but that voice was something he was indeed familiar with.

The old Grandmaster who opened the door coughed and stepped back with a sour face. He could deal with anyone, but the man in front of him, Toolcraft Grandmaster Kraul, was one of those people who should not be provoked and could not be reasoned with if the man was furious.