Inner Sect Preliminary Selection (2)

The cultivation test had just concluded, and the second event—the Sword Art Assessment—began immediately after.

In the center of the plaza, dozens of straw dummies were neatly arranged. On each dummy's heart, throat, and brow, a striking red circle was painted—the designated strike points for the three basic sword techniques: chop, thrust, and flick.

"Disciples, step forward one by one, wield your flying swords, and execute the three sword techniques. The Elder Council will score based on form and power, out of a full one hundred points!" The Chief Deacon Elder's voice rang out again. "Remember, each strike must precisely hit the red circle, or points will be deducted accordingly!"

The disciples took turns stepping up, and the results quickly sorted the strong from the weak. Some delivered standard forms with ample force, earning frequent nods from the elders; others were stiff and clumsy, failing even to hit the red circles, their scores pitifully low.

Wang Hu was the first to step forward. He held a mid-grade flying sword, his face brimming with confidence. Taking a deep breath, he infused Spiritual Energy into the blade, then raised the sword high and brought it down with a fierce chop—the strike howled with wind, landing squarely on the dummy's heart red circle, sending wood chips flying. Without pause, he steadied his stance, thrust with sharp precision, and flicked with cunning agility—the three techniques flowed in one seamless, fluid motion.

"Wang Hu, standard forms, ample power—ninety points!" an elder announced loudly.

Wang Hu lifted his head smugly, bowed to the high platform, and strutted off the field with an air of arrogance.

Zhang Shan followed close behind. He took a deep breath, gripped his Basic Flying Sword, and walked slowly to the dummy. Reciting the mantra from the Purple Sun Basic Sword Codex, he executed each move step by step. Though his motions were a bit stiff and his power slightly lacking, he made up for it with steadiness, hitting all three strike points accurately.

"Zhang Shan, acceptable forms—seventy points!"

Zhang Shan let out a relieved breath, bowed to the elders, and flashed Shen Hao a reassuring gesture before returning to the ranks.

Finally, it was Shen Hao's turn.

He walked slowly to the dummy, bowed to the high platform, and grasped his Basic Flying Sword. Spiritual Energy from his Sea of Qi flowed gently into the blade, and a faint cyan light glowed on the sword—not dazzling, but carrying a condensed aura.

Shen Hao shifted his stance, sank his center of gravity, and drove power from his waist and abdomen into his arm as he brought the sword down with a fierce chop—a dull thud rang out, and the red circle on the dummy's heart shattered instantly, wood chips spraying three feet. Before the chips could fall, he flickered, pushing his footwork to the limit, twisted his wrist, and the flying sword shot out like a viper from its lair, piercing the red circle at the throat with pinpoint accuracy. In the next breath, he raised his arm lightly, and the Sword Light traced a graceful arc toward the brow red circle—the motion was fluid, without a hint of hesitation.

The three techniques—chop, thrust, and flick—enhanced by his footwork, merged into a seamless whole. Not only did they hit every strike point with precision, but they also carried a sharp, imposing momentum, leaving the surrounding disciples stunned.

The elders on the high platform nodded in unison, their eyes full of approval. The Chief Deacon Elder stroked his beard and declared in a clear voice, "Shen Hao, exquisite forms, powerful force, footwork and sword art perfectly integrated—score one hundred points!"

"Perfect score! A perfect score!" "That swordplay was so smooth, I can't even compare!" "He's mastered the Basic Sword Art to its peak! Incredible!"

Another wave of murmurs swept through the plaza. The disciples' gazes toward Shen Hao were now filled with awe. Shen Hao sheathed his sword and stood still, his expression calm as ever. He bowed to the elders and returned to the ranks. Zhang Shan rushed over, grabbed his arm excitedly, his voice trembling slightly: "Senior Brother Shen, you're amazing! A perfect score!"

Shen Hao gave a faint smile and patted his hand. "Just a good performance, that's all."