Embodying Myriad Traits, I Will Ultimately Become Immortal — 32

As the line for the blood and vitality test gradually shortened until only Meng Chuan and Zong Ping remained, Qi Fei walked over.

The first-years should know their place and make way for him. Qi Fei stepped forward, wearing what he thought was a kindly fake smile. "I'll go first, you two. Keep cultivating yourselves a little longer."

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Meng Chuan did not care. His main purpose for coming today was to attend martial arts classes with the second-years in the future.

The Martial Arts Training Ground had a wooden-dummy area, where practicing movement techniques raised proficiency faster. It was also convenient for finding people to spar with in actual combat and quickly improve one's fist-art proficiency.

But Zong Ping was not about to indulge Qi Fei. He snatched up the sensor device and put it on first.

"Stop acting tough here. Get your ass back in line!"

Qi Fei merely folded his arms and sneered. "Fine, fine. You go."

The test began.

Zong Ping lowered his waist and slightly arched his back, drawing one hand to his side in a tiger-claw shape, ready to exert force.

Interesting. This blondie would make a fine opponent for practicing fist arts.

Meng Chuan could tell from Zong Ping's opening stance that, unlike Wang Yue's superficial Tiger Form, this guy had the real thing.

Blood and vitality: 7.18. Third threshold passed.

"Holy shit, this kid!"

The watching second-year martial arts students were utterly stunned. With strength like that in the first year, shouldn't the major martial arts schools be fighting to recruit him? Why had he come to Peaceful High School?

Meng Chuan could not be bothered to wait any longer. He stepped forward and took the sensor device from Zong Ping's hand.

"Qi Fei, right? You keep cultivating yourself. I'll test first."

Cannon Fist was part of Xingyi Fist, and its opening stance was completely different from that of the Image Form Fist's Tiger Form.

Meng Chuan stepped half a pace forward with his right foot, crossed and straightened his arms before his abdomen, right hand outside and left hand inside, palms facing inward.

Then he rotated both arms outward, bent his elbows and clenched his hands into fists, drawing them back to his waist with the fists facing upward. He channeled his blood and vitality into his forearms, then unleashed a forceful punch.

Please remove the sensor device.

Blood and vitality: 7.47. Third threshold passed.

As the machine sounded its notification that the test was over, the entire hall fell silent in an instant.

Pair after pair of eyes stared fixedly at Meng Chuan.

Shock, disbelief, astonishment—every kind of emotion gathered together.

Someone muttered, "Didn't they say he only knew Child's Fist? Is the machine broken?"

A sharp-eyed student had already spotted the key. "It's not broken. His Cannon Fist attainment is probably close to perfection."

"Gasp—this kid is terrifying!"

"Second Uncle truly did not deceive me."

Though Zong Ping had a lively, unruly personality, when facing someone his own age whose blood and vitality exceeded even his, he cupped his fists in praise. "Brother, you're impressive. We'll have a real spar on the ring later."

Now he believed what his second uncle had said. This Meng Chuan really had some skill.

Meng Chuan returned the salute with cupped fists. "No problem. I've long wanted to witness the essence of Tiger Form."

The Hu Brothers were equally astonished. They had thought it was already incredible for the first-years to produce a Zong Ping. They had not expected another expert to emerge.

Qi Fei stood there awkwardly. After practicing Fierce Tiger Fist last week and feeling that he had improved, he had tested his blood and vitality. It had been 6.82.

He had just told these two to keep cultivating themselves. If he went up to test now, would he not become a laughingstock?

"I reckon only Brother Qi can keep those two down."

"Go on, Brother Qi! You're the last pride of us second-years!"

Qi Fei was the only one left who had not tested his blood and vitality. Everyone urged him, "Yeah, Brother Qi, hurry up and go!"

With everyone watching him, Qi Fei had no choice but to walk up with a dark expression and take the test.

Blood and vitality: 6.78. Third threshold passed.

Qi Fei silently cursed his bad luck. His blood and vitality was even lower than last week's result. He did not know whether it was because he had only thrown one punch and the reading fluctuated.

Seeing this, Zong Ping burst into laughter. "Hmm? Little Fei, only ninety percent of your usual level?"

Seeing the foul look on Qi Fei's face, everyone promptly shut their mouths. No one wanted to cross him at a time like this.

Qi Fei thought to himself, The gap in blood and vitality isn't that great. I'm a year older and have more actual combat experience.

There's still the arena match to win back my face. I have to teach these two a good lesson and restore my dignity—especially that blondie!

Only then did Principal Zong arrive at a leisurely pace. Walking to the grade director's side, he asked, "How were the test results? How many broke through the third threshold?"

"Counting the first-years Zong Ping and Meng Chuan, sixteen students have blood and vitality above four points."

"Our school is now surging forward along the fast track of martial arts development!"

"The number of second-years who have passed the third blood-and-vitality threshold has increased by fifty percent over the same period in previous years!"

The director was desperate to make progress. After a pause, he continued, "And Zong Ping and Meng Chuan... Principal, you truly have an eye for talent!"

The principal was immediately intrigued. He knew his nephew's level well enough, but he truly did not know Meng Chuan's blood-and-vitality strength.

He had mainly allowed Meng Chuan to take the second-year exam because Meng Chuan had improved the National Obligatory Basic Fist Art.

"What was Meng Chuan's blood-and-vitality value?"

"7.47."

"You said how much?"

The director loudly repeated it for the principal.

Principal Zong muttered to himself, "Who would have thought this test would uncover a true dragon?"

Although Meng Chuan's blood-and-vitality strength had shocked him, Principal Zong was a man who had weathered great storms. He quickly recovered.

"Those above the third threshold, step out. Go beneath the arena and draw lots to determine your opponents. The final three will be decided at the end."

After the principal spoke, Meng Chuan followed the others toward the arena area, thinking as he walked, Including me, there are sixteen contestants. Most of them barely made the cut with blood and vitality just above four points.

I need to watch out for the Hu Brothers and Qi Fei. Most importantly, that blondie named Zong Ping.

This counts as my first competition. I have to start strong and go all out to take first place!

The first-round drawing results came out quickly. Meng Chuan's opponent had blood and vitality of 4.32 and had only just entered the third threshold.

The principal stood in the middle of the arena, cleared his throat with two coughs, then waved his hand. "The match begins!"

The unnamed contestant opposite Meng Chuan looked at him as though facing a formidable enemy. The gap in blood and vitality had already made him timid before the battle even began.

Seeing that the other party had not moved for a long while, Meng Chuan politely reminded him, "I'm coming. Be careful, Senior."

Meng Chuan surged forward in short, compact steps, crossing the distance and reaching his opponent in just a few strides.

What followed was a simple, unadorned straight-arm Cannon Fist. A crisp sound faintly rang from the wind of the punch—the clear force hidden within the fist art.

Meng Chuan had not gone all out in either speed or power. It was merely a probing attack.

His opponent had every chance to dodge, but perhaps Meng Chuan's momentum had frightened him. He actually raised his hands, intending to take it head-on.

An immense pressure bore down on his face. Before the fist arrived, the sound of the wind did!

"Damn it!"

The opponent actually closed his eyes on the arena. Meng Chuan wanted to pull back his force, but it was already too late.