Monthly Competition

The vast training grounds of Blustering Wind Martial Hall felt especially grim today.

All the newly enrolled apprentices stood in neat ranks, arranged according to their room numbers—A, B, C, and D. Not a sound could be heard. On the raised platform, the hall master, Shi Lie Feng, stood with his hands behind his back as always, his expression composed. Several instructors stood on either side, their sharp gazes sweeping over the crowd below. Instructor Chen, who had handled registration yesterday, stood at the front with the roster in hand.

At the center of the grounds stood dozens of black wooden stakes, neatly arranged. Each was half a man's height and thick enough for two people to wrap their arms around. These were the Ironwood Stakes used for testing. Their wood was as hard as iron, and ordinary blades could scarcely damage them. They were the ideal tools for testing skin toughness and strength.

The rules were simple and brutal: strike the Ironwood Stakes with all your might! The instructors would judge the apprentices' progress in tempering their skin by the depth of the marks left behind.

The air was thick with tension, excitement, and poorly concealed anxiety. The Half-monthly Exam would decide who stayed and who went. No one dared take it lightly.

Instructor Chen's cold voice broke the silence. "The half-month period is over. Now we'll test your progress! Come forward in order of room number. Class C, you're first!"

The Class C apprentices stirred at once, and many turned pale. They were the lowest-ranked students in the martial hall, with the fewest resources and the greatest pressure.

The first to step forward was a medium-built boy from Class C. He drew a deep breath, gathered his strength, and slammed his fist into an Ironwood Stake.

"Thump!" The sound was dull.

The boy grimaced as he pulled back his fist, the back of his hand bright red. On the stake, there was only a faint mark, almost impossible to see.

"Too shallow. You failed! Next!" Instructor Chen announced without changing expression.

The boy's face turned ashen. He crumpled to the ground and was soon dragged away by servant disciples.

The atmosphere grew heavier.

The next few apprentices performed poorly. Most left only blurry marks, barely enough to pass. Then it was Zhao Hu's turn.

Zhao Hu took a deep breath, confidence on his face. He felt he had made tremendous progress over the past half-month. With a low growl, he lunged forward, his bulky body surging as the muscles in his thick right arm bulged. He drove his fist into the Ironwood Stake!

"Thud!"

The impact was much louder than those before it. The Ironwood Stake swayed slightly.

Zhao Hu withdrew his fist and proudly looked at the mark. A clear fist print, about half an inch deep, stood out on the black wood! Its edges were somewhat blurred, but a mark that deep was rare in Class C.

"Whoa—"

A low murmur of astonishment rose from the crowd. The Class C apprentices looked at Zhao Hu with envy.

"Zhao Hu, a half-inch-deep fist print. Pass, upper-middle!" Instructor Chen gave a slight nod, his tone softening a little.

Zhao Hu descended from the testing area, walking with his head held high and brimming with pride. As he passed Li Yuan, he shot him a deliberately mocking, contemptuous look and muttered, "See that, you good-for-nothing? That's what real strength looks like! You're as good as dead!"

Li Yuan lowered his eyes, as if he hadn't heard.

Next came Li Gou Er. He nervously stepped forward and struck with all his strength, leaving only a shallow dent less than two fen deep in the stake. He barely passed, and cold sweat poured down his face.

When Shi Feng stepped up, he drew a little attention. His features were stern, and he said nothing. He simply threw an ordinary punch.

"Thump!"

The impact sounded solid and heavy. On the Ironwood Stake was a fist print about as deep as Zhao Hu's, but its edges were much sharper and neater!

"Shi Feng, a half-inch-deep fist print. Pass, upper-middle!" Instructor Chen gave Shi Feng a second look.

Shi Feng silently returned to his place, as if he'd done nothing worth mentioning.

Zhao Hu watched Shi Feng's back and curled his lip, unconvinced, but said nothing.

The test continued, and Class C soon reached the end of the line.

"Next, Class C Number Seven, Li Yuan!" Instructor Chen called the name without any change in tone.

In an instant, almost everyone turned to look at the boy standing at the back of the Class C line. He wore faded Coarse Cloth Clothes, and his build didn't look particularly imposing.

Over the past half-month, Zhao Hu had gone out of his way to spread Li Yuan's reputation as a "good-for-nothing." It had nearly reached every circle of new apprentices. Now everyone wanted to see what kind of result this boy would deliver—the one who had endured repeated provocations in silence.

Would he embarrass himself in front of everyone and be thrown out? Or could he work a miracle?

The vast majority expected the former.

Zhao Hu stood with his arms crossed and a sneer he made no effort to hide, waiting for the show. Even the instructors on the raised platform regarded Li Yuan with casual indifference. Clearly, they expected nothing from this unremarkable-looking boy.

Under the crowd's gaze, Li Yuan slowly stepped out of line.

His steps were steady, unhurried. His face showed no sign of nervousness or excitement; he was almost unnaturally calm.

He walked to an unoccupied Ironwood Stake and stopped.

He didn't build up momentum like the others. He didn't roar or strike a flashy pose.

He simply drew a small breath, then raised his right arm. It looked neither thick nor especially muscular, just lean and sinewy.

His five fingers slowly curled into a fist.

The muscles in his arm instantly tightened, their lines smooth and full of strength.

Then, beneath every watching gaze—some expectant, some mocking, some indifferent—he threw an ordinary punch.

The movement was simple and direct, almost casual.

It was as if he weren't taking an exam that would decide his future, but merely brushing dust off his shoulder.

His fist cut through the air. It made no sharp whoosh, yet carried an unusual steadiness and weight.

The next instant.

"BANG!!!!!!"

A tremendous crash burst across the training grounds—utterly unlike any of the impacts before it, dull as a blow against hide, yet carrying the hidden thunder of wind and lightning!

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck every person's ears and heart!