Full Nine

Full Nine

Full Nine

Slowly, more and more fists appeared. Once their number exceeded ten—especially when attacks began coming as sneak strikes from behind—Zhou Leng could no longer evade them all completely.

They entered the second stage: blocking.

From this stage onward, Zhou Leng began incorporating footwork and movement techniques, swaying and dodging as he blocked.

Sometimes he slapped aside fists with his palms; sometimes he blocked with his arms.

The attacking red boxing gloves shifted between feints and real strikes, dense as a forest, as though countless masters were attacking together—too dazzling to take in.

Before long, Instructor Deng Zhijue said, "Warm-up is over. Now we begin the final test."

"For all impact-resistance tests over the next six months, true qi is forbidden. Anyone who uses it will receive a demerit and be kicked out of all rankings."

"Everyone, pay attention. Blocking and impact resistance are divided into three stages."

"The evasion stage, the blocking stage, and the impact-resistance stage. In every stage, do your utmost to achieve perfection."

"As for the third stage, if you can't take it, you may call for a stop. Of course, points will be deducted..."

By the end, Deng Zhijue was actually smiling.

The other instructors smiled as well.

The students were puzzled. It seemed the instructors' smiles hid something.

"Ready... begin!"

A boxing glove shot straight at Zhou Leng's abdomen. He twisted aside to evade it.

This punch was even faster than the previous ones.

One, two, three... the number of boxing gloves attacking at once kept increasing.

During the evasion stage, Zhou Leng relied on his Eight Trigrams Steps, which he had mastered to the major level, and his Flowing Cloud Movement Technique, which he had mastered to the minor level, to avoid every attack completely.

Occasionally, someone in another room let out a soft cry.

Then they entered the blocking stage.

A dense barrage of boxing gloves came hurtling in from above, below, left, right, front, and back, without a single blind spot.

As Zhou Leng dodged, he protected his head with both arms. Occasionally, he threw a punch to collide with a boxing glove and knock it back.

The students outside the arena frowned, as continuous muffled groans and soft cries came from numerous rooms, with the occasional scream mixed in.

Before long, the test entered its third stage.

Bang bang bang bang...

The dense sounds of blows rang through the entire arena. The students outside could no longer hear muffled groans or soft cries—either the sounds had been drowned out, or they had become a nonstop chorus of shrill wails.

The instructors were all smiles.

At the start of the impact-resistance stage, the number of boxing gloves increased, but their attacks weakened.

Most students continued blocking with all their strength, secretly breathing a sigh of relief.

Zhou Leng, however, did the opposite. He proactively gave up blocking, spreading his arms apart and letting every part of his body endure relatively light strikes.

Zhou Leng was like a sapling in a typhoon, his body swaying and lurching under the dense barrage of boxing gloves.

Impact resistance was both a test and cultivation.

Before long, fine wounds appeared on Zhou Leng's body.

Gradually, the fists grew stronger and faster. Zhou Leng drew his arms back and covered his head, curling up into a turtle-shell defense.

Boxing gloves rained down from all directions, continuously landing on Zhou Leng's body.

There was nowhere to evade, nowhere to hide. He could only protect his head and grit his teeth through it.

Bang bang bang bang...

The fists crashed down like a violent gale, without end.

Zhou Leng's guard was tight, but powerful boxing gloves still frequently struck him hard enough to make him stagger.

Slowly, Zhou Leng's eyes swelled red. Darkness filled his vision, and the only sounds left by his ears were the mechanical arms extending and retracting, and the boxing gloves striking his body.

Zhou Leng clenched his teeth and silently endured. Occasionally, a muffled groan was knocked from his nostrils.

The students outside watched in silence.

Before long, one student shouted, "I can't take it anymore! I surrender!"

The instructors' smiles widened, but they did not stop.

The students outside stared at the instructors in shock.

Deng Zhijue said with a beaming smile, "I lied to you. You can't surrender during the martial hall's impact-resistance test."

A chill ran through every student.

"Beasts..."

Bang! Bang! Bang!...

"Ah..."

Miserable screams and blows rose and fell throughout the hall.

Under the lights, the instructors' smiles grew increasingly savage.

Suddenly, one Anti-Strike Device stopped.

"Another fragile college student. Drag him out."

An instructor walked in, Grabbing that student by the shoulder and dragging him straight onto a mat nearby.

A clear trail of blood was left on the floor.

As everyone Looked Towards the unconscious student—his face battered and swollen, his entire body covered in wounds, purple bruises spreading across his skin—they finally realized something.

Their student days were gone, never to return.

Then, one Anti-Strike Device after another came to a stop, and the instructors dragged out student after student.

The instructors were like children doodling, drawing messy yet distinct streaks of blood across the floor.

At last, everyone understood why they had smelled something strange earlier.

The smell of blood.

Bang! Bang! Bang!...

All fifteen Anti-Strike Devices had stopped. Only the sounds from one remained, echoing through the hall.

Everyone Looked Towards that room.

"Zhou Leng..."

Everyone waited in silence.

Second by second, time passed. Finally, the sound came to an abrupt halt.

Instructor Deng Zhijue walked over, Grabbing Zhou Leng's upper right arm and dragging him out of the room, then onto a mat.

There was especially much blood Behind Him.

The students waiting for their assessment stared blankly at the people sprawled haphazardly across the mats.

Nearly every one of them looked the same—covered from head to toe in wounds, bruises flowing into one another, their faces swollen like pig heads.

At a glance, they looked like sixteen corpses.

The brutality of a battlefield hit them full in the face.

Deng Zhijue smiled. "Remember This Kind Of feeling. Oh, they can't hear me."

The instructors took out pills and shoved one into the mouth of each unconscious student.

Zhou Leng's fingers twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes.

His entire body hurt and tingled, weak and limp. All he could do was lie there.

Zhou Leng shifted his eyes, seeing the students lying on the ground. Recalling what he had endured before passing out, he vaguely understood the truth behind this test.

These instructors are real beasts...

Still, his body felt warm. His eyes did not seem as swollen anymore, and his wounds were healing quickly.

It just hurt.

The others woke one after another, soft cries and sharp hisses rising and falling around the room.

The students still standing wanted to laugh, but did not dare.

"Instructor, that was too ruthless... Hiss..." Before pig-faced Feng Wenhao could finish, the pain made him clamp his mouth shut.

"If we hadn't been wearing groin guards, my mom would definitely be blocking the entrance and cursing up a storm tomorrow... Ow..."

"Second round. Sixteen students, please enter."

As Wei Hong walked, he muttered under his breath, "More like please enter the slaughterhouse."

Then came the second round of students' cries, one after another.

The dodging phase, the blocking phase, the Anti-Strike phase...

Bang! Bang! Bang!...

"Holy shit..." Wei Hong's scream rang through the entire hall.

The students outside could not hold back their laughter.

After the second round came the third.

By the fourth round, forty-eight students lay on the mats, watching the final two students enter with tragic solemnity.

Many students wore smiles similar to those on the instructors' faces.

Scores no longer mattered.

Other people's screams were the only cure for their pain.

As the last two students were dragged out of the Anti-Strike Device, Instructor Deng Zhijue smiled and announced.

"Today's Opening Term Test has come to a perfect close. Thank you all for your cooperation. I'll now release the final results. Please check them on your phones."

The students' bodies were stiff, their eyeballs rolling as they looked toward Deng Zhijue, some straight on, others sideways.

Wei Hong said, "Instructor, do you think we can even reach our phones like this?"

"Consider yourselves lucky. Once you officially enter the Blood Circulation Stage, if you still can't quickly get back on your feet after being seriously injured, then just wait to die on the battlefield."

After saying that, Deng Zhijue joined hands with the other instructors, circulating qi through the students' blood one after another, setting their bones and treating their injuries.

Before long, Deng Zhijue walked over to Zhou Leng, grabbed his left hand, and pressed their palms together.

Surging True Qi poured along Zhou Leng's arm and into every part of his body.

His wounds closed, the pooled blood drained away, and his hidden injuries eased...

"All nines, Student Zhou." After speaking, Deng Zhijue walked toward someone else.

"Really all nines?" Wei Hong asked loudly.

"Go look for yourself," said an instructor.

The students whose blood had been circulated through with qi slowly stood up, spreading their legs and inching forward step by step.

Groans rose once more throughout the gymnasium.

Zhou Leng walked over to his backpack and put on his Demonic Watch.

He opened the class group chat and pulled up the screenshot of the results sheet.

Zhou Leng.

1. Sprint Run: 4 points.

2. Evasion Run: 4 points.

3. Weighted Run: 6 points.

4. Obstacle Run: 8 points.

5. Weightlifting: 5 points.

6. Punching Power: 2 points.

7. Total True Qi: 3 points.

8. True Qi Intensity: 8 points.

9. True Qi Control: 100 points.

10. Qi-infused Weightlifting: 91 points.

11. Maximum Attack Intensity: 4 points.

12. Average Attack Intensity: 5 points.

13. Blocking and Anti-Strike Ability: 8 points.

Total Score: 7 points.

Average Score: 9 points.

First in Class 01.

Zhou Leng looked again at the class's overall score rankings.

Lu Juncai, in second place: 8 points.

The gap was less than two points.

Zhou Leng checked Lu Juncai's results. In Weightlifting, Punching Power, Total True Qi, True Qi Intensity, and Qi-infused Weightlifting, he had scored 100 points in all five subjects.

Those five were the famous "Pill User Five Subjects." By consuming pills from childhood and constantly improving one's physical condition, one could achieve full marks.

The advantage of full marks in all five subjects was simply too enormous. If Zhou Leng had possessed even the slightest weakness, he would have fallen behind.

Lu Juncai slowly walked over, gave Zhou Leng a thumbs-up, and said, "You crushed me, a 'Pill User,' purely by relying on your own strength. I'm completely convinced."

Chang Luan, in the distance, pricked up his ears, then looked at his own results with a dejected expression.

1183 points.

He was more than 37 points behind Zhou Leng.

Fifth in the class.

Just one step short of entering the top four.

If Zhou Leng had agreed, I'd already be fourth... Chang Luan thought silently in his heart.

Deng Zhijue called out, "Alright, today's basic test is over. The Rucheng Freshman Ranking will update tomorrow, so everyone can head back. By the way, don't forget tomorrow's military training."

"Huh? We're hurt this badly, and we still have military training tomorrow?" Wei Hong said.

Deng Zhijue did not even glance at Wei Hong. As he walked out, he swept Zhou Leng a look and said, "Remember, assemble outside the class martial arts gym at eight sharp tomorrow for military training. If you don't want to come, you don't have to."

Everyone sat on the floor, wailing miserably.

Deng Zhijue headed straight for the hall master's office.

"Hall Master!" Deng Zhijue saluted and walked in.

"What is it?"

"Zhou Leng and Lu Juncai from our class both have Very Good results. If my estimate is correct, they should enter the top five hundred of the Rucheng Freshman Ranking tomorrow. Zhou Leng in particular achieved a 'Full Nine' on the Opening Term Test—something unprecedented not only in the history of Rucheng Martial Arts Hall, but even in the history of Rucheng Martial University. I hope to apply for scholarships for the two of them."

Wang Boxiong nodded.

Deng Zhijue continued, "Our martial arts hall's scholarships are divided into four major categories: school scholarships, City Scholarships, Martial Guard Department Scholarships, and national scholarships."

"National scholarships can only be applied for after the Monthly Exam, but the other three martial arts scholarships can be prepared for now."

Wang Boxiong asked, "What scholarships can Zhou Leng specifically apply for?"