Sword Art Assessment

Three days later, the Training Ground.

Several hundred Outer Sect Disciples stood in neat rows on the square, each gripping a wooden staff. Every face bore a mix of tension and anticipation. On the high platform sat a few Deacon Elders, tasked with assessing the disciples' mastery of the sword techniques.

Shen Hao and Zhang Shan stood in the middle of the formation, each holding a polished wooden staff. Shen Hao's expression was calm, his gaze focused. Over the past three days, he had risen before dawn every day to practice—the three sword forms of chop, thrust, and sweep—and had honed them to perfection.

"The assessment begins!"

At the Deacon Elder's command, the disciples stepped forward one by one to demonstrate their sword techniques.

The first to step up was Wang Hu. Staff in hand, he took a deep breath and suddenly assumed the starting stance for the chop. He raised the staff high, then brought it down with a fierce strike—the movement precise, the force ample. Without pause, he followed with the thrust and the sweep, the sequence smooth and unbroken.

On the high platform, the elders nodded in approval.

"Not bad. Wang Hu's sword technique has reached minor mastery. Assessment passed," one elder remarked.

Wang Hu's face lit up with a smug grin. He bowed respectfully to the elders and walked over to the qualified area.

One by one, the disciples took their turn. Some executed the forms correctly and passed smoothly; others were clumsy, drawing pointed critiques from the elders and orders to train harder.

"Shen Hao!"

At last, it was his turn.

He took a deep breath, staff in hand, and walked slowly to the center of the square. He bowed to the elders on the platform, then assumed the starting stance for the chop.

His body sank slightly, his center of gravity steady as a mountain. The staff rose high—the angle of his arm, the rotation of his wrist, all perfectly aligned. Then, with a sudden burst of power, the staff came down like a blade cleaving through waves.

Thud!

The staff struck the ground with a dull impact, kicking up a cloud of dust.

In the next instant, his wrist twisted, and the staff shot forward like a viper striking from its lair, swift as lightning. Finally, he swept his arm upward, the staff gliding like a spring breeze brushing willow branches—the movements fluid and seamless.

Not a single hesitation. The forms were precise, the force just right.

On the high platform, a glint of approval flickered in the elders' eyes.

"Excellent!" one elder couldn't help praising. "This youth's sword technique, though basic, is exceptionally solid. The three forms—chop, thrust, sweep—have all been mastered to perfection. Assessment passed!"

A relieved smile crossed Shen Hao's face. He bowed to the elders and walked over to the qualified area.

Zhang Shan followed close behind. His forms weren't as polished as Shen Hao's, but they were adequate, and he passed the assessment without issue.

After the assessment, the qualified disciples each received a Basic Flying Sword. The sword was cyan in color, forged from refined iron, its blade engraved with intricate patterns that emitted a faint spiritual glow.

Shen Hao took the sword. A cool sensation spread from his fingertips. Gripping it, his heart swelled with excitement. This was his first Magic Treasure on the path of cultivation.

"Disciples," the elder's voice rang out again, "the flying sword is your companion treasure. Treasure it well. In future practice, you must attune your heart and mind to the sword to unleash its full power."

"Your disciple obeys!" the crowd answered in unison.

Back in Room C, Shen Hao couldn't wait to hold the flying sword and examine it closely. The blade was about three feet long, sharp-edged, and glinting coldly. Following the instructions in the sword manual, he infused a thread of Spiritual Energy into the sword.

Instantly, the sword emitted a faint hum, and a soft spiritual light flickered along its blade. Shen Hao felt a weak connection form between himself and the sword. With a thought, the sword seemed to come alive, trembling lightly in his hand.

"Such a wondrous flying sword!" he murmured, his face alight with excitement.

He took the sword to the open space in front of his room and resumed practicing the sword forms. With the sword's enhancement, the techniques were noticeably more powerful. When he chopped, Sword Qi surged; when he thrust, it was unstoppable; when he swept, it was unpredictable.

Zhang Shan was practicing next door as well. Their flying swords glinted coldly under the moonlight, humming softly.

As the night deepened, Shen Hao continued to train. He knew this Basic Flying Sword was only the beginning. His path of cultivation stretched far ahead, and he needed to grow stronger to carve out his own place in the vast, surging Cultivation World.