The Exam Begins

The thirty-eighth year of the Ming dynasty, the seventh day of the fourth month.

In front of the City God Temple, Qingyuan City.

Today was the preliminary examination for the martial arts imperial exam. The dynasty's original intention in distributing cultivation resources far and wide was to give martial artists from humble backgrounds a glimpse of light.

But once they reached this blue-stone-paved square, all that remained was the starkest struggle for survival. More than three hundred people stood packed together, their eyes burning with longing, anxiety, and the ruthless desperation of those staking everything on one throw.

On the raised platform stood officials in solemn robes of vermilion, blue, black, and white, their ranks clearly distinguished. They were the makers and observers of the rules.

Below the platform stood the examinees, each with their entire fortune on the line.

Martial arts training was a money-devouring beast. Meat and fine grain were the bare minimum; Qi and Blood Powder and Qi and Blood Pills were the ladders to climb higher.

For most people, the small amount of cultivation resources and silver handed out by the imperial court wasn't icing on the cake. It was a lifesaving draught, charcoal delivered in a snowstorm.

For that, fighting with everything they had was their only bargaining chip.

Cui Hao stood in the line, breathing steadily. He hoped he wouldn't run into those opponents whose eyes had already gone "mad" in the second round.

—When people were driven to the brink, they could do anything.

On either side of the square, wealthy households and great clans sat beneath parasols. Ordinary people were kept outside the perimeter.

"Second Sister," Hu Miao, the youngest daughter of the Hu family, whispered among the crowd, rising onto her tiptoes. "Brother-in-law... can he do it?"

Her voice carried the timidity and curiosity unique to a young girl.

Hu Zhi surveyed the examinees on the field, their muscles bulging and their bearing fierce, then shook her head. Her tone was as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "He's just here to make up the numbers."

"Then why did we come?"

"I've got my eye on someone." Hu Zhi's gaze settled on a certain spot. "Three taels of silver a month. I ought to at least see whether the stone I tossed makes a splash."

"Three taels?!" Hu Miao's eyes widened. First startled, she then glanced around in a panic. "Father doesn't know, does he?"

"Shh—" Hu Zhi put a finger to her lips, her eyes warning her. "Keep it buried."

"Which one is he?" Hu Miao asked curiously, craning her neck.

Before Hu Zhi could answer, a somewhat elderly but still resonant voice cut in. "Hu Zhi? Miao'er? What are you doing here?"

The sisters turned around. It was Zhu Gui, their maternal uncle, a lean old man with shrewd eyes.

Hu Zhi hesitated briefly, then lowered her voice. "Uncle, I've been secretly supporting a martial artist. Cui Hao, from Willow Tree Village."

"Willow Tree Village?" Zhu Gui stroked his goatee, the corner of his mouth twitching. "That poor little ravine north of the city? Zhi'er, I don't mean to rain on your parade, but I'm afraid that money's gone down the drain."

"Uncle," Hu Zhi pressed her lips together. She didn't argue. "Don't tell Father about this."

"Your father..." Zhu Gui snorted and waved a hand. "A stubborn old block of wood. Best not to bring him up."

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Three heavy drumbeats struck like muffled thunder hitting the ground.

The beats quickly grew denser, rolling across the square with a rumble. Each one seemed to strike in the spaces between people's heartbeats, tightening the air to its limit. Every sound in the square fell silent at once. Only the wind and drums remained.

The drumming stopped abruptly, its echo humming in the air.

The chief examiner rose. His gaze swept across the crowd like cold lightning. His voice wasn't loud, but each word was clear, pressing into every listener's ears.

"On the examination grounds, only ability matters! Blades and arrows have no eyes; life and death are left to fate! Anyone who cheats or falsifies their results will be severely punished!"

He paused, drawing breath into his dantian, then unleashed a thunderous shout. "Let the examination begin!"

The first round of the Mortal Martial trials: strength.

The rules were cruelly simple: draw a bow.

A one-stone bow required a hundred and twenty jin of force to draw fully. Each full draw counted as one.

The bows ranged from one to twelve stone. Realm didn't matter; only the heaviest bow a candidate could draw and the number of times they could draw it did. The top performers would advance; the rest would be eliminated.

Simple, brutal, efficient.

Cui Hao calmly watched the examinees go up to the platform. Zhou Hua and Jiang Jie, both from his martial school, took their turns one after another.

Jiang Jie managed to draw a two-stone bow twice, then stepped down, his face pale.

Zhou Hua gave it everything she had, but managed to draw the three-stone bow only once. She came down with unsteady steps, her eyes filled with frustration.

In the Mortal Martial Realm, drawing a three-stone bow three times was considered a solid result. She knew all too well that her chances were slim.

It was the turn of the team Xiao Li belonged to. He strode up the platform, his steps steady as a mountain, immediately attracting a great many eyes, including those of several martial arts instructors seated in the stands.

"Master Xu, is this your personal disciple?" Qian Zhendong of the Qian Family Martial Hall narrowed his eyes as he appraised Xiao Li. "His steps are grounded, his qi and blood concealed but undiminished. He's reached Mortal Martial perfection?"

The corner of Xu Dian's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. Stroking his beard, he replied, "He was lucky enough to break through the day before yesterday. He just managed to make it in time."

"At Mortal Martial perfection, he should be among the best in the first round," said He Fulin, an expert in springing kicks, nodding. "But the real test is the second round. Brother Xu, how much experience does your disciple have in the field?"

"He'll do," Xu Dian replied, his gaze fixed on the platform. "The boy's willing to put in the hard work."

On the platform, Xiao Li had already taken hold of the three-stone strongbow. He sank into a horse stance, let out a breath, and tensed his arms, the muscles suddenly bulging!

"Haah—!"

The bowstring groaned with a sound that set teeth on edge as he drew it back with fierce force, bending it into a full moon!

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

Four draws in a row! Full draw each time! On the last one, the veins on his forehead bulged, his face flushed red, and his shout turned hoarse.

Four full draws with a three-stone bow! An impressive result.

The disciples of Hongzhan Martial School below the platform murmured in astonishment, while interest flashed in the eyes of some wealthy spectators in the stands.

Xu Dian slowly let out a breath, his face filled with satisfaction.

Qian Zhendong and He Fulin clasped their hands and offered their congratulations.

Xiao Li lowered the bow. His breathing was a little ragged, but his movements remained steady as he saluted the examiner with cupped fists.

"Next team, take the platform!"

Cui Hao and three other examinees climbed the four stone steps together, their pace unhurried.

Hu Zhi leaned forward slightly in the crowd.

Xu Dian's gaze also turned to Cui Hao on the platform.

Xiao Li, who had just completed his test, stood below, quietly watching.

On the other side of the crowd, a tall female martial artist with sharp eyes—Tu Yan—also turned her attention to Cui Hao.

Ignoring the distractions around him, Cui Hao walked straight to the bow rack.

The longbows on the wooden rack were arranged from smallest to largest, their bodies reflecting a hard, oily sheen.

Without hesitation, he passed over the one- and two-stone bows. His fingers paused for a moment on the three-stone bow, then moved past it.

In the end, his hand closed steadily around the grip of the four-stone bow.

Its cold touch met his palm. The bow felt heavy and cumbersome.

A few faint chuckles or startled gasps seemed to rise from the edge of the field.

Cui Hao acted as if he hadn't heard them. He set his feet slightly apart in a stance that was neither fully open nor closed—the foundation of the Broken Fist's postures.

His right hand gripped the bow, while three fingers of his left hooked the string.

There was no roar, no savage expression. His back and waist simply tightened slightly. He exhaled and drew the bow.

Creak—

A bowstring groan that made one's scalp prickle—far heavier and more strained than the three-stone bow's—rang out abruptly!

The qi and blood within him surged like underground fire. His force climbed joint by joint along his spine, finally gathering in his arms.

Cui Hao's knuckles turned faintly white with effort. The three fingers hooked around the string were like iron.

Thunk—

A low, teeth-grating tremor came from inside the bow, like the bones of a giant beast grinding together before it awoke.

The arms of the four-stone strongbow strained under unimaginable pressure, giving off tiny cracking sounds.

The bowstring tightened, changing from a straight line into a dangerous curve. The air itself seemed to grow still under the force.

At that moment, however, Cui Hao's movements faltered almost imperceptibly. His body seemed to sway, and his face reddened a little.

That fleeting illusion of "running out of strength" fell into the eyes of countless spectators below.

The next instant, a suppressed groan rolled from Cui Hao's throat. His core contracted sharply, and his sinking spine arched backward in a mighty surge, like a great dragon raising its head!

The bowstring, which had seemed stuck, moved at once, sliding back at a steady but irresistible pace—

Creeeak...

The heart-stopping twang continued, issuing a shrill warning as if the bow were about to snap.

At last, the bow arms bent into a full, dangerous arc, brimming with power and beauty!

The bow became a full moon!

The four-stone strongbow was drawn to its limit!

"Hiss—"

Below the platform, Xu Liqing drew in a sharp breath, her eyes wide as saucers. She looked as if she were seeing this fellow disciple for the first time.

Sun Cheng stood frozen in place, his mouth hanging slightly open.

It wasn't unheard of for someone at Mortal Martial perfection to draw a four-stone bow during the trials. But every one of those people had been a core member of a great clan, raised on fine clothes and nourishing medicinal baths. Their qi and blood ran deep, and their every movement carried an air of haughty privilege.

Yet this Senior Brother Cui on the platform... Sun Cheng's eyes unconsciously dropped to the toes of Cui Hao's half-worn cloth shoes. They were badly scuffed, nearly worn through.

And he had actually drawn the four-stone bow!

Tu Yan's sharp eyes locked onto Cui Hao. The slight disdain and scrutiny she'd shown earlier had vanished without a trace, replaced by deep suspicion and a hint of chagrin at having misjudged him.

This young man from a poor backwater actually had such deep reserves of potential!