Sword Art Assessment

Three days later, at the Training Ground.

Several hundred Outer Sect Disciples stood neatly in the square, wooden sticks in hand. Every face bore expressions of tension and anticipation. Several Deacon Elders sat upon the high platform, responsible for assessing the disciples' progress in sword arts.

Shen Hao and Zhang Shan stood in the middle of the ranks, each gripping a smoothly polished wooden stick. Shen Hao looked calm, his gaze focused. Over the past three days, he had risen before dawn every day to practice, and the three sword forms—cleave, thrust, and sweep—had already become second nature to him.

"The assessment begins!"

At the Deacon Elder's command, the disciples stepped forward one after another to demonstrate their sword arts.

The first to step forward was Wang Hu. Holding his wooden stick, he took a deep breath and suddenly assumed the opening stance for a cleaving strike. He raised the stick high, then brought it down in a fierce chop. His movements were standard, and his strength was impressive. Immediately afterward, he performed the thrusting and sweeping forms in succession, the moves flowing together in one smooth breath.

The elders on the platform all nodded.

"Not bad. Wang Hu's sword arts have reached minor mastery. He passes the assessment," one elder said.

A proud smile appeared on Wang Hu's face. He bowed to the elders, then walked over to the area for those who had passed.

Next, the disciples came forward one by one for assessment. Some performed the forms properly and passed without trouble; others were unfamiliar with the moves and had many shortcomings pointed out by the elders, requiring them to train twice as hard.

"Shen Hao!"

At last, it was Shen Hao's turn.

He took a deep breath, held his wooden stick, and slowly walked to the center of the square. He bowed to the elders on the high platform, then assumed the opening stance for a cleaving strike.

His body sank slightly, his center of gravity as steady as Mount Tai. He raised the wooden stick high; the angle of his arms and the turn of his wrist were both just right. Then he exerted force sharply, and the stick came crashing down like a keen blade cleaving through waves.

"Bang!"

The wooden stick struck the ground with a dull thud, sending dust flying.

Then his wrist turned, and the wooden stick shot forth like a venomous snake leaving its hole, swift as lightning. Finally, he lifted his arm, and the stick swept up gently like a spring breeze brushing willow branches. His movements flowed like drifting clouds and running water, completed in a single breath.

There was not the slightest hesitation throughout the entire sequence. His forms were standard, and his force was perfectly measured.

A trace of approval flashed through the eyes of the elders on the high platform.

"Good!" one elder could not help but praise him. "Though this young man's sword arts are basic, his foundation is exceptionally solid. The three forms—cleave, thrust, and sweep—have all reached the point of second nature. He passes the assessment!"

A relieved smile appeared on Shen Hao's face. He bowed to the elders, then walked over to the area for those who had passed.

Zhang Shan followed right after him. Though his forms were not as standard as Shen Hao's, they were still proper and steady, and he passed the assessment smoothly.

After the assessment ended, every disciple who had passed received a Basic Flying Sword. The Flying Swords were entirely azure in color, forged from refined iron. Their blades were covered in profound patterns and gave off a faint spiritual glow.

Shen Hao accepted the Flying Sword and felt an icy sensation spread from his fingertips. Gripping it, his heart filled with excitement. This was the first Magic Treasure he possessed on his path of cultivation.

"Disciples," the elder's voice rang out again, "Flying Swords are the Magic Treasures that will protect you. I hope you will cherish them well. When you practice sword arts in the future, you must become one in heart and intent with your Flying Swords. Only then can you bring out their greatest power."

"We obey!" the disciples answered in unison.

After returning to Room C, Shen Hao could not wait to take the Flying Sword in hand and examine it carefully. It was roughly three feet long, its blade sharp and gleaming with cold light. Following the records in the Sword Codex, he infused a thread of spiritual energy into it.

In an instant, the Flying Sword gave off a faint hum, and a soft spiritual glow lit up across its blade. Shen Hao felt a weak connection form between himself and the Flying Sword. With a thought, the Flying Sword trembled lightly in his hand as though it had come alive.

"What a wondrous Flying Sword," Shen Hao murmured, his face brimming with excitement.

Holding the Flying Sword, he walked to the open ground before the house and began practicing his sword arts again. With the Flying Sword's enhancement, the power of his sword arts had clearly risen considerably. When he cleaved, Sword Qi crisscrossed; when he thrust, nothing could withstand its edge; when he swept, the changes were unfathomable.

Zhang Shan was also practicing next door. Under the moonlight, their Flying Swords gleamed with cold light and let out hum after hum.

As the night deepened, Shen Hao continued practicing his sword arts. He knew that this Basic Flying Sword was only a beginning. His path of cultivation still stretched far, far ahead, and he needed to grow stronger before he could carve out a world of his own in this vast and turbulent Cultivation World.