Poverty in Scholarship, Wealth in Martial Arts, Worlds Apart

The training ground outside the city was originally a military drill field, but now, with the Imperial Military Examination approaching, a section had been set aside for candidates to familiarize themselves with the venue.

Chen Ping blended into the bustling crowd, deliberately hunching his back and smearing some turmeric juice on his face to look like a malnourished down-and-outer.

His faded blue cotton robe, washed nearly white, seemed shabby and inconspicuous amid the dusty training ground.

"So this is the threshold of the Imperial Military Examination..."

He squinted, surveying his surroundings.

The ground was paved with hard loess, compacted to the density of iron by countless footsteps.

The air reeked of sweat, raw iron, and a faint, restless scent of ambition.

Suddenly, the crowd parted as if sliced by an invisible blade, and a commotion arose from the entrance.

"Look! It's the eldest young master of the Jin Family!"

"Jin Shijie? I heard he's a top contender for first place in this exam!"

Chen Ping followed the crowd's gaze and saw a group of attendants clustering around a brocade-clad young man as he strode in.

The youth was about twenty, with a face like polished jade and an arrogant expression. He wore a soft armor that shimmered with a dark gold luster under the sunlight.

Golden Silk Armor—impervious to blades and arrows. This single piece was worth a lifetime of expenses for ten middle-class households in Qinghe County.

Even more eye-catching was the long saber in its scabbard at his waist, the sheath studded with seven-colored gems. Even sheathed, it exuded a biting chill.

Chen Ping instinctively touched the half-broken dagger hidden in his sleeve, a cold feeling settling in his heart.

This was the foundation of a noble scion—before the fight even began, he'd already won half the battle with his gear.

Jin Shijie reveled in the attention. He walked to the center of the practice area, casually tossed his scabbard to a servant, and drew his blade with a sharp ring.

The saber gleamed like snow, radiating a chilling cold.

"Ha!"

With a low shout, Jin Shijie twisted his wrist and unleashed a set of Golden Crow Saber Technique.

In an instant, saber energy surged, stirring the air into a sharp, whistling howl.

As he finished, he slashed at a wooden post used for practice. The thick, bowl-sized hardwood split cleanly like tofu, the cut smooth as a mirror.

"Excellent!"

"Lord Jin is mighty!"

Cheers erupted around him, and the hangers-on of the Jin Family clapped thunderously.

Chen Ping stood in a corner, his eyelids drooping slightly to mask the sharp glint in his eyes.

Thanks to the heightened senses from Longevity of Pine and Crane, he saw more than just the surface spectacle.

"Deep inner force, every strike carrying a gust of wind... but his energy is unstable, and his footwork is uneven."

Chen Ping shook his head inwardly. "This is a realm forcibly built with heavy tonic pills. His foundation isn't solid, yet he's eager to show off. In a life-or-death fight, I'd only need to strike the moment he changes his breath to slit his throat."

All flash, no substance.

Chen Ping averted his gaze and turned to the other side of the training ground.

There, candidates from the slums and countryside gathered.

Most were gaunt and sallow, their clothes patched all over.

Some held sharpened wooden sticks, others gripped rusted cleavers, and a few carried weapons converted from farm hoes.

They stared at Jin Shijie, their eyes filled with fear, envy, and deep despair.

"Poverty for scholars, wealth for warriors—the ancients weren't wrong."

Chen Ping sighed inwardly.

Without meat to nourish their blood and energy, without a master to guide them, without divine weapons in hand—how could these lowlifes compete with noble scions?

The Imperial Military Examination, on the surface, gave everyone a chance, but in truth, its threshold was so high it crushed hope.

He didn't linger. He turned and walked toward the stone locks piled in a corner.

Since he was here, he might as well test the waters.

Stone locks of various sizes lay scattered, ranging from fifty to five hundred jin.

Chen Ping stopped before a three-hundred-jin lock.

With his current physique—Great Accomplishment in Shattered Stone Palm and the tendon-strengthening, bone-forging effects of Longevity of Pine and Crane—lifting this three-hundred-jin lock with one hand was no harder than picking up a basket of eggs.

But he couldn't afford to look too effortless.

Chen Ping crouched, gripped the handle of the stone lock with his right hand, and deliberately tensed his arm muscles, forcing blood to his face until it flushed red.

"Up!"

He gritted his teeth, letting out a muffled grunt from his throat. His arm trembled violently as he wobbled the three-hundred-jin lock half a foot off the ground.

After holding it for about three breaths, he feigned exhaustion, letting the lock crash heavily to the ground with a clang. He staggered back a few steps, panting heavily, playing the part of someone completely spent.

"Hey, brother, not bad strength!"

A gruff voice came from beside him. Chen Ping turned his head and saw a burly man with a dark, rugged complexion.

The man wore a set of coarse short-sleeved clothes, his muscles knotted like ropes, making him look like a black bear walking upright.

"The name's Tie Niu. I'm here for the exams too."

Tie Niu grinned, flashing a mouthful of bright white teeth, and eagerly offered some advice.

"Just now, I saw you lifting that lock—all you used was the dead strength in your arms. You gotta use your waist for this. Waist and body in one, power from the ground—that's how you save your energy."

As he spoke, Tie Niu walked over to the stone lock, sank his hips, and without any visible effort, lifted the three-hundred-jin lock steadily with one hand, even bouncing it up and down a couple of times.

Chen Ping was a bit surprised. This man had no discernible internal energy fluctuations, but his natural brute strength was rare.

He quickly cupped his hands, putting on an act of humble receptiveness. "Thanks for the pointers, Brother Tie Niu. I'm Chen Ping, from the countryside—never seen much of the world. Don't laugh at me."

"Hey, no big deal. Us poor folk training in martial arts ain't easy. We ought to help each other out."

Tie Niu waved his hand cheerfully, about to share a few more tips on technique.

Just then, a few young men in fine silks swaggered over.

"Move it, move it. Where'd you mud-foots crawl out from? You're blocking this young master's way!"

The leader, a slick-faced dandy with a folding fan in hand, looked at Tie Niu and Chen Ping with disgust, as if they were two piles of trash.

Tie Niu was a straightforward man. His brow furrowed at the words, and he rumbled, "This training ground was opened by the Imperial Court. Why can't we stand here?"

"Oh? Still talking back?" The dandy sneered and signaled to his guards.

Two burly guards stepped forward without a word and shoved at Tie Niu.

Tie Niu instinctively braced to resist, but Chen Ping saw it clearly.

These guards might be servants, but their hands were calloused—they'd clearly trained in hard martial arts for years. If Tie Niu clashed head-on, he'd definitely suffer, maybe even get injured before the exams.

In a flash, Chen Ping tilted his body, pretending to be swept by the wind from the guards' movements.

"Aiya!"

Chen Ping yelped, letting himself fall backward, and even "panickedly" pulled Tie Niu along.

Caught off balance by the tug, Tie Niu stumbled back too, just dodging the guards' hidden, underhanded shoves.

The two of them tumbled to the ground in a heap, looking utterly pathetic.

"Hahaha! What a pair of useless losers—can't even stand steady!"

The dandy laughed triumphantly, too disdainful to bother with them further, and swaggered off with his crew.

Once they were far away, Chen Ping scrambled up, covered in dust, and brushed off his clothes, still wearing that fawning, bitter smile.

"You alright, brother?"

Tie Niu got up, glaring angrily at the retreating figures.

"I could've taken 'em just now..."

"Brother Tie Niu."

Chen Ping cut him off, lowering his voice.

"Better to avoid trouble than court it. We're here for the Imperial Military Examination, not to make enemies. If you hurt yourself, what about the exams in a few days?"

Tie Niu paused, then scratched his head and sighed. "You're right, brother. I was too rash."

Chen Ping smiled and said no more.

That fall had not only defused the conflict but also cemented his image as "frail and weak" in everyone's eyes.

In this mixed bag of a training ground, the more harmless you seemed, the safer you were.

As the sun dipped westward, Chen Ping bid Tie Niu farewell and walked out of the training ground alone.

On the road back to the city, he silently tallied up what he'd seen and heard today.

"Jin Shijie—a product pumped full of pills. If it came to a life-or-death fight, I could kill him in ten moves. As for Tie Niu, with his natural strength, he's a bit trickier, but if I wear him down in a drawn-out fight, it wouldn't be hard to win."

Chen Ping had a clear measure in his mind.

"With my current strength, if I went all out, getting into the top three would be like picking something out of a pocket. But that'd be too flashy. It'd definitely draw the attention of local powers like the Jin Family, and they might even dig into my background."

"The bird that sticks out gets shot. The tree that stands tall in the forest gets broken by the wind."

Chen Ping patted the Letter of Recommendation in his bosom, his eyes growing calm.

"I just need a title to protect myself. The rank doesn't matter. I have to control my score—must control it. On the platform, I'll act like I barely won, or won by a hair. As long as I scrape into the top ten and get the juren status, that's enough."

Once he became a military juren and had an official identity, whether it was the Lin Family or his old enemies, they'd have to think twice before touching him, weighing the Imperial Court's laws.

This was his first talisman on the path to immortality.

Before he knew it, Chen Ping had reached the city gate.

The dying rays of the setting sun spilled over the mottled city wall, stretching his shadow long.

He stopped, his gaze piercing through the layered rooftops toward the Lin Manor in the eastern part of the city.

Counting the days, it had been half a month since he'd bought his freedom and moved out—he hadn't seen Yun Niang since.

These past two weeks, he'd been busy renting a place, settling in, and studying for the exam—every day was tense but fulfilling.

Yet whenever the night grew deep and still, after finishing his cultivation of Longevity of Pine and Crane, that empty, rundown room always left a hollow ache in his heart, as if something was missing.

Missing that steaming bowl of osmanthus soup. Missing that silhouette mending his clothes under the lamplight.

"Sister Yun..."

Chen Ping murmured to himself. The usual cold hardness in his eyes gave way to a rare tenderness and urgency.

In this merciless world, she was the only flame that could warm him.

"Not a bad night tonight."

Chen Ping tightened his collar, turned, and melted into the descending dusk.

"Perfect time to go see how my future wife is doing."