Lightness in Heaviness

Chen Ping lowered his head, hunched his shoulders, and stepped out of the line amid a flurry of mocking glances.

The stone lock before him was pitch-black, its surface pitted and uneven, looking heavy just to the eye.

He followed the rules and stepped forward, gripping the handles of the stone lock with both hands. Just as he was about to exert force, a strange slipperiness met his fingertips.

Lard.

Chen Ping's eyelids drooped slightly, masking the cold glint that flashed in his eyes.

Someone had smeared a thin layer of lard on the handles. If his hands were sweaty or he applied force improperly, the three-hundred-jin stone lock would slip from his grasp. Breaking a foot bone would be the least of it—he could end up crippled on the spot.

The tricks aimed at commoner examinees weren't even bothering to be subtle anymore. They were laid out in plain sight.

He didn't make a fuss, nor did he lift his head to look at the examiner nearby.

On this examination ground, questioning the examiner was the same as seeking death.

Chen Ping calmly released his grip and rubbed his hands vigorously against his dust-covered pant legs, as if wiping off nervous sweat.

Then, he crouched down, grabbed a handful of yellow sand from the ground, and rubbed it hard between his palms.

"This kid's so scared his legs gave out before the test even started?"

A few snickers came from the crowd.

Chen Ping ignored them completely. Only when the greasy slickness on his palms was replaced by rough grit did he slowly stand up.

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently, as if gathering every ounce of strength in his body.

"Up!"

A fierce roar exploded from Chen Ping's throat.

His legs bent slightly, his back straightened, and the muscles in his arms tensed. The three-hundred-jin stone lock lifted off the ground with his movement and was hoisted high above his head.

Chen Ping's heart skipped a beat.

Too light.

For someone who had already mastered the Shattered Stone Palm to perfection and tempered his bones and tendons with Iron Bone Soup, this three-hundred-jin weight felt as light as a sack stuffed with cotton.

If he didn't control it, the stone lock would fly straight into the air.

That would be way too conspicuous.

Chen Ping clenched his teeth, forcing the large muscles in his back to tremble violently. He deliberately held his breath, letting the blood rush to his head.

In an instant, his face turned the color of liver, several veins on his forehead bulged like writhing earthworms, and his arms shook like a sieve, as if he was about to collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

"Boo—"

The watching examinees let out a chorus of jeers.

"Look at him, won't last three breaths. Kid's still got a long way to go."

"A scrawny monkey's still a scrawny monkey. That three hundred jin is the real deal—not something any Tom, Dick, or Harry can lift."

On the high platform, Jin Zhenshan, seated in a grand armchair, had been idly toying with the iron balls in his hand. But when his gaze swept over Chen Ping, his brow furrowed slightly.

This kid looked like he was about to topple over, but that lower body...

Jin Zhenshan's eyes fixed on Chen Ping's feet.

Those feet, clad in worn cloth shoes, trembled faintly but gripped the ground like an old tree's roots, showing no sign of instability.

Interesting. A slow bird that had laid an exceptionally solid foundation?

"Seven... eight..."

The timekeeper examiner dragged out his count, each word like a death knell.

Holding the stone lock, Chen Ping let out rasping breaths like a bellows. Sweat slid down his cheeks and dripped into his eyes, stinging fiercely.

The ninth breath.

Chen Ping's body swayed. His left foot couldn't hold steady and slid half an inch outward.

The stone lock above his head tilted sharply, seemingly about to crash onto his shoulder.

"Ah!"

A startled cry erupted from the crowd. Even Tie Niu, not far away, couldn't help but widen his bull-like eyes, instinctively ready to rush forward.

At the critical moment, Chen Ping let out a guttural roar. He twisted his waist in an extremely awkward posture and forced the tilting stone lock back into place.

This narrow escape made many onlookers break out in a cold sweat.

"Ten breaths! Release!"

The examiner's words had barely fallen.

"Boom!"

A dull thud, and dust flew everywhere.

Chen Ping, as if drained of his last ounce of strength, let go of his hands. The stone lock crashed heavily into the sandy ground in front of him. He dropped to the ground on his backside, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently, looking utterly spent.

In truth, the Longevity of Pine and Crane within him circulated steadily, and even his heartbeat remained under his control, undisturbed.

That little stumble just now was only to add a touch of suspense, making everyone believe he had barely scraped by on luck alone.

The examiner walked up with a blank expression, glanced at the stone lock on the ground, then at the disheveled Chen Ping, and drew a circle on the roster with his vermilion brush.

"Pass."

Chen Ping struggled to his feet, bowed respectfully to the examiner, and retreated unsteadily into the crowd.

"What luck—almost dropped it right on his own foot."

"If this first round is just brute strength, wait until the actual combat—this kid's gonna hit the dirt."

The murmurs around him were relentless, laced with sour envy.

Chen Ping kept his head down, the corner of his mouth twitching upward slightly.

This was exactly the effect he wanted.

A useless waste who barely scraped by on luck—that was the safest disguise.

Just as he returned to Group D's formation, a thick, dark hand clapped heavily onto his shoulder.

"Brother Chen, not bad! My heart was in my throat just now!"

Tie Niu grinned, flashing a row of white teeth, and gave him a thumbs-up.

"I knew you had it in you—that grab with the sand was clever!"

"Don't tease me, Brother Tie Niu. I used every ounce of strength I had—almost didn't make it."

Chen Ping winced and rubbed his shoulder, putting on a look of lingering fear.

"Luck, all luck. If it had lasted one more breath, I really would've been done for."

As he spoke, he wiped his sweat and discreetly scanned his surroundings.

During the break, under the awning on the other side of the training ground, Jin Shijie, clad in fine silk and brocade, was waving a folding fan. His gaze swept back and forth over the examinees in Group D, as if searching for something.

Chen Ping's heart jolted. Instinctively, he wanted to look away, but he noticed Jin Shijie's eyes didn't linger on him—they passed right over and landed on Tie Niu beside him.

Then, Jin Shijie snapped his fan shut, pointed it at Tie Niu from a distance, and muttered a few words to the attendant beside him.

The attendant's eyes were dark and sinister. He nodded, turned, and walked toward the clerk in charge of arranging the matchups.

Chen Ping's heart sank.

Tie Niu had handled the stone lock too easily just now—lifting three hundred pounds with one hand like it was a chicken—and had clearly caught someone's attention.

In this Imperial Military Examination, where only a few could pass, the brighter you shone, the easier it was to become prey.

And for a local power like the Jin Family, tampering with the matchup list was as easy as turning over a hand.

Chen Ping glanced at Tie Niu, who was still grinning like an idiot, and a strong sense of foreboding rose in his chest.

The waters of this examination were deeper and murkier than he had imagined.