Imperial Military Examination Opens

Outside Jinguang City, the Training Ground.

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

Banners snapped and fluttered in the biting north wind, kicking up clouds of yellow dust.

"Boom, boom, boom."

On the high platform at the northern end of the training ground, a tiger-skin-draped armchair stood imposingly.

The master of Iron Palm Martial Hall and chief examiner for this military exam, Jin Zhenshan, sat upright in it.

He wore a black outfit with gold patterns today, his forearms exposed, muscles knotted like ancient tree roots.

His hawk-like eyes swept slowly over the dense crowd below. Wherever his gaze fell, the noisy training ground fell instantly silent.

This was the pressure of an internal arts master—without a word, just that condensed aura of spirit and intent could make common folk tremble in their boots.

The County Magistrate stood up shakily, clutching a scroll, and began reading the examination rules.

"...The Imperial Court opens examinations to select worthy talents. In martial bouts, touch decides the victor; taking life is strictly forbidden..."

The magistrate's voice wavered.

Most of the candidates below wore sneers.

Who didn't know that everyone had to sign a life-and-death waiver before entering?

That so-called "touch decides the victor" was just a fig leaf for the officials.

Once blood was up, broken arms and legs were routine, and a death or two was just a straw mat away.

Chen Ping huddled at the very back of the crowd, minimizing his presence.

He wore a coarse, short robe washed white, frayed at the cuffs and collar, and a pair of cloth shoes caked with mud.

Among these candidates—most in flashy clothes or even leather armor—he looked as shabby as a porter who'd wandered into the wrong place.

"Hey, you broke bastard over there, you here to die or just to fill a slot?"

A burly man with a face full of sneer laughed, deliberately bumping him with his shoulder.

Chen Ping let himself sway, stumbling two steps, putting on a look of fear as he lowered his head without a word.

"Tch, coward."

The man spat a thick glob of phlegm in disdain and turned away.

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

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

The first round was "Bone Verification."

This was to prevent old-timers past thirty, whose qi and blood were already declining, from sneaking in as young talents.

Dozens of soldiers lined up, and candidates queued to extend their arms for the examiners to feel their bones and gauge their age.

The line moved quickly. From time to time, someone was roughly dragged out for being overage, their cries and pleas rising and falling.

Chen Ping's turn came.

The examiner was a stern-faced middle-aged man.

Chen Ping rolled up his sleeve, revealing a thin but well-lined arm.

The examiner casually pinched it.

"Hm?"

The examiner's fingers paused, his brow furrowing.

The bones felt as hard as raw iron, a texture completely different from ordinary soft flesh or the dead-hard muscles of external martial arts.

The bone density alone made his fingertips tingle.

This was the result of Shattered Stone Palm at Great Accomplishment, combined with Iron Bone Soup to temper the sinews and bones. Even though Chen Ping deliberately suppressed his qi and blood, this body of iron skin and steel bones couldn't be hidden.

The examiner looked up, scrutinizing Chen Ping with a probing gaze, trying to see what was special about this shabbily dressed young man.

Chen Ping's heart lurched, cold sweat beading on his back.

If his internal arts cultivation were exposed, his "low-key" plan would be ruined.

He quickly shrank his neck, putting on a simple, timid smile:

"Sir, I... I haul heavy loads at the docks. Got some strength, thick skin and tough flesh..."

The examiner stared at him for a moment, the doubt in his eyes fading a bit.

Plenty of laborers who did heavy work year-round had hard bones, but rarely this hard.

"Twenty."

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

Chen Ping breathed a silent sigh of relief, quickly nodding and bowing as he slipped into the pass zone.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the entrance to the training ground.

A troop of richly dressed house servants crowded around a young master as he swaggered in.

That young master had a face like polished jade, wore a Golden Silk Armor, and carried a treasured blade at his waist—none other than Jin Shijie, a scion of Jinguang City's elite.

He didn't bother queuing at all, strolling straight in through the side entrance. The examiner in charge of bone-testing not only failed to stop him but cupped his hands in a bow with a fawning smile.

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

"Yeah, that's not fair!"

A few stifled, indignant voices rose from the crowd.

Jin Shijie didn't even lift his eyelids, treating it like the buzz of a few flies.

Chen Ping stood in the corner, watching this scene with no anger in his heart—instead, a trace of relief.

Good. The more he flaunts, the more hatred he draws.

With such a dazzling target set up front, who would notice this gray, dusty mouse in the corner?

This round of screening culled nearly thirty percent of the people.

Next came the lottery for group assignments.

Chen Ping reached into the wooden box and pulled out a bamboo slip, carved with the character "Ding" and the number "thirty-two."

Group D.

He lifted his head and swept his gaze around, finding that most of the examinees assigned to Group D were burly, rough-looking brutes—fierce and menacing, their muscles straining against their clothes.

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

"Hey, this group's got a weakling. Looks like we're in luck."

A few big men exchanged glances, their eyes roving over Chen Ping with ill intent.

Chen Ping silently retreated to a hitching post, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and fixed his gaze on his nose, his nose on his heart—a picture of resigned submission.

In truth, his peripheral vision had already marked every threatening opponent in this group.

That bald man on the left, heavy-footed with a rock-solid lower stance—he must train in leg techniques;

That pockmarked one on the right, with thick, blackened knuckles—likely practiced some vicious skill like Eagle Claw strength...

"Boom!"

A cannon blast shook the skies.

The first trial, "Lifting the Stone Lock," officially began.

In the center of the Training Ground, rows of stone locks of varying sizes were laid out—the lightest at a hundred jin, the heaviest at three hundred.

The rule was simple: lift the stone lock, circle the field once, and don't drop it to pass.

"Up!"

Group A had already started, with screams and cheers rising one after another.

Someone hoisted a two-hundred-jin stone lock and strode briskly, drawing a round of applause;

Another overreached and grabbed a three-hundred-jin one, but his strength gave out—the lock slipped, smashed onto his foot, and snapped bone and sinew on the spot. He was dragged off like a dead dog.

Chen Ping squinted, relying on the sharp eyesight granted by the Longevity of Pine and Crane technique, and noticed a detail.

Among the row of stone locks for Group D, several had handles darker in color than the others, glistening with an oily sheen in the sunlight.

If a careless person grabbed one, it would surely slip right out of their hands.

"Greased..."

Chen Ping sneered inwardly. This official examination ground—the waters ran deep indeed.

It wasn't just testing strength; it tested eyesight and attention to detail too.

Those reckless brutes who only knew how to show off their brawn were bound to take a heavy loss.

"Group D, prepare!"

The roll-caller barked in a hoarse voice.

The examinees ahead stepped up one by one, and sure enough, two from Group D were eliminated in a row when their stone locks slipped. One nearly broke his own ribs, cursing about "sweaty hands."

No one sympathized with the losers.

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