Ding Xing cheered from the side, his aura even stronger now. "Aunt, you can do it! You'll definitely win!"
"It's over. It's all over. This is a bad start!"
Lanca Academy's morale plummeted. Only Sheng Yang calmly glanced at the note in her hand. "The 15th."
A man in his early 30s walked over. He had a square face and was dressed appropriately. He clearly saw the note in Sheng Yang's hand and patted his chest as if he had won the first prize. "That's… good. I'm the 16th."
Ding Xing, who appeared out of nowhere, suddenly said in a strange tone, "Teacher Sheng, you're so lucky. You drew Wan Yong, who's ranked last in the research institute this year."
