The Imperial Military Examination Begins

Jinguang City outskirts, Training Ground.

Today was the day of the Imperial Military Examination, and the streets were deserted.

Banners snapped in the bitter north wind, whipping up clouds of yellow sand.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

On the high platform at the north end of the Training Ground stood a Grand Master Chair draped in tiger skin.

Jin Zhenshan, master of the Iron Palm Martial Hall and chief examiner of this year's Imperial Military Examination, sat upright in it.

Today, he wore a black outfit patterned with gold. The exposed halves of his forearms were knotted with muscle, like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree.

His hawk-sharp eyes slowly swept over the packed crowd below. Wherever his gaze fell, the once-clamorous Training Ground fell instantly silent.

This was the oppressive presence of an inner martial artist. He didn't need to say a word; the concentrated force of his spirit alone could make ordinary people's legs tremble.

The County Magistrate shakily rose to his feet, holding a scroll of documents as he began to read out the rules for the examination grounds.

"...The Imperial Court holds this examination to select worthy talent. Contestants shall spar and test their skills, stopping as soon as a winner is determined. Under no circumstances may they take another's life..."

The County Magistrate's voice wavered.

Most of the candidates below wore mocking expressions.

Who didn't know that contestants had to sign a life-and-death waiver before entering the Imperial Military Examination?

The so-called "stopping as soon as a winner is determined" was nothing but a fig leaf for the officials.

Once a fight turned vicious, broken hands and legs were commonplace. If someone died, they'd just wrap the body in a straw mat.

Chen Ping kept to the very back of the crowd, doing his best to avoid notice.

Today, he wore a coarse cloth tunic washed until it had faded white. The cuffs and collar were frayed, and his cloth shoes, with their thousand-layer soles, were caked in mud.

Among the candidates, most of whom were dressed in finery and mounted on fine horses, some even clad in leather armor, he looked so shabby he might have been a porter who'd wandered into the wrong place.

"Hey, you shabby pauper over there. Are you here to get yourself killed, or just to make up the numbers?"

A burly man with a face full of flesh snickered and deliberately rammed his shoulder into Chen Ping.

Chen Ping let himself sway with the impact and staggered two steps. His face took on a suitably frightened look, and he lowered his head without daring to say a word.

"Pathetic coward."

The man spat a mouthful of phlegm in disdain, then turned away and paid him no more attention.

Beneath Chen Ping's lowered lashes, a cold glint flashed.

In a place like this, being looked down on was sometimes the best protection.

The first round was the "Bone Examination."

It was meant to stop old hands over thirty, whose qi and blood had begun to decline, from passing themselves off as young talents.

Dozens of soldiers lined up in a row. The candidates went forward one at a time, extending their arms so the examiners could feel their bones and determine their ages.

The line moved quickly. From time to time, someone over the age limit was roughly dragged out, their cries and pleas rising one after another.

It was Chen Ping's turn.

The examiner assigned to him was a middle-aged man with a stern face.

Chen Ping rolled up his sleeve and extended his thin but well-proportioned arm.

The examiner casually reached out and squeezed.

"Hmm?"

The examiner's fingers paused, and his brow furrowed.

The bones beneath his touch felt as hard as forged iron, unlike the soft flesh of an ordinary person. Nor did they feel like the dead, rigid muscles built through external martial arts.

The density of the bones in particular made his fingertips go numb.

This was the result of Shattered Stone Palm reaching Great Accomplishment, combined with Iron Bone Soup to temper his sinews and bones. Even though Chen Ping had deliberately reined in his qi and blood, he couldn't hide his body of bronze skin and iron bones.

The examiner looked up and scrutinized Chen Ping, trying to glean something from the shabby young man.

Chen Ping's heart lurched, and a layer of cold sweat broke out across his back.

If the examiner saw through his inner martial cultivation, his plan to "keep a low profile" would be ruined.

He hurriedly hunched his shoulders and put on an honest, timid smile.

"Sir, I... I'm a porter at the docks. I've got a bit of strength, and my skin's thick..."

The examiner stared at him for a while, and some of the suspicion in his eyes faded.

Hard laborers who worked year-round often had sturdy bones. It was just rare for them to be this hard.

"Twenty."

The examiner announced his bone age coolly and waved him through.

Chen Ping let out a quiet breath of relief, then hurriedly bowed and scraped his way into the cleared area.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the Training Ground entrance.

A group of servants dressed in fine clothes came in, surrounding a young nobleman who strutted along with great fanfare.

The young man had a face as handsome as carved jade. He wore Golden Silk Armor and a precious saber at his waist. He was Jin Shijie, scion of an Aristocratic Clan in Jinguang City.

He didn't bother to line up. He entered directly through a side gate, and the examiner responsible for checking bones not only let him pass but also smiled and bowed in greeting.

"Why doesn't he have to be examined?"

"Exactly! That's not fair!"

A few suppressed cries of indignation rose from the crowd.

Jin Shijie didn't even lift an eyelid, treating them as nothing more than buzzing flies.

Standing in a corner, Chen Ping watched without feeling the slightest anger. If anything, he was relieved.

Good. The more conspicuous he was, the more resentment he'd draw.

With such a dazzling target standing out front, who would notice the dusty little rat in the corner?

By the end of this round, nearly thirty percent of the candidates had been eliminated.

Next came the drawing of lots to assign groups.

Chen Ping reached into a wooden box and pulled out a bamboo tag. A "D" was carved into it, along with the number "thirty-two."

Group D.

He looked around and saw that most of the candidates assigned to Group D were hulking brutes, each one looking fierce and murderous, their muscles bulging against their clothes.

By comparison, the thin Chen Ping looked like a scrawny sheep that had wandered into a pack of wolves.

"Hey, there's a weakling in our group. Looks like we're in luck."

A few burly men exchanged glances, their gazes sweeping over Chen Ping with ill intent.

Chen Ping silently stepped back beside a hitching post, folded his hands into his sleeves, and lowered his eyes, looking like a man resigned to his fate.

In truth, he'd already marked the more threatening opponents in the group with the corner of his eye.

The bald man on the left had heavy footsteps and a steady stance. He was probably trained in leg techniques.

The pockmarked man on the right had thick, darkened knuckles. He likely practiced a vicious art like Eagle Claw.

"Boom!"

A cannon blast rang out, shaking the heavens.

The first test, "Lifting the Stone Locks," officially began.

Several rows of stone locks of different sizes had been set out in the center of the Training Ground. The lightest weighed a hundred pounds; the heaviest, three hundred.

The rules were simple: lift a stone lock and carry it around the Training Ground. Anyone who didn't drop it passed.

"Begin!"

Group A had already started. Cries of pain and cheers rose one after another.

One contestant lifted a two-hundred-pound stone lock and strode around with ease, drawing a wave of acclaim.

Another tried to show off with a three-hundred-pound one, but lacked the strength. It slipped from his grasp and smashed onto his foot, instantly breaking bone and tearing tendon. He was dragged away like a dead dog.

Chen Ping narrowed his eyes. Thanks to the keen eyesight granted by Longevity of Pine and Crane, he noticed a detail.

Among the stone locks lined up for Group D, the handles on several were darker than the others and glistened in the sunlight.

Anyone careless enough to grab them would find them slippery, and the stone lock would slip from their grasp.

"They've greased them..."

Chen Ping sneered inwardly. The waters ran deep indeed at this government examination.

This test wasn't only about strength. It also tested one's eyesight and attention to detail.

Those brutes who knew nothing but how to throw their weight around were bound to suffer.

"Group D, get ready!"

The official calling out the names bellowed in a gruff voice.

The candidates ahead stepped forward one by one. Sure enough, two members of Group D were eliminated in succession when their stone locks slipped from their hands. One nearly broke his own ribs and cursed, shouting that his hand had slipped.

No one pitied the losers.

"Group D, number thirty-two, Chen Ping! Step forward!"