The Test Begins

The day of the assessment had finally arrived.

However, the scene before them was far from the solemn and dignified atmosphere that the words "sect assessment" might imply.

In the open space at the center of the Chore Servant Courtyard, there were no high platforms, no observing elders, and not even a decent testing artifact to be found.

All that stood there was a solitary humanoid puppet, cobbled together from unknown metal and wood.

The puppet stood about two people tall, its entire body a dull gray, covered in old scratches and dents, with a dusty crystal embedded in its chest that looked cheap and crude.

This was the "divine artifact" for the Chore Servant Courtyard's assessment.

After all, those sophisticated instruments capable of precisely measuring talent, Spirit Root, and cultivation level required spirit stones to operate every time they were used.

To use them on a bunch of trash like these chore servants? The sect wasn't that extravagant.

Therefore, the method of assessment was simple and brutal to the extreme: give it everything you've got and land a punch on the puppet.

The crystal on the puppet's chest would judge the attacker's cultivation level based on the force of the impact and the faint trace of blood energy contained within the strike.

"Line up properly, you bastards, one by one!"

Chief Steward Wang had moved a grand armchair to the shade of a nearby tree, sitting there with an air of arrogance while picking his ear with his pinky finger and roaring impatiently.

"You all know the rules, right? Only those at Body Forging level seven or higher are qualified to participate in the martial competition this afternoon."

"Those below Body Forging level five, get your asses over to that corner and stand there. Once the assessment is over, pack your bags and get lost!"

As soon as his voice fell, a thin, tall chore servant at the front of the line took a deep breath and stepped forward, his face full of nervousness.

"Hah!"

He let out a loud shout, his face turning beet red as he gathered all his strength and slammed a punch into the puppet's chest.

Bang!

A dull thud echoed out.

The puppet didn't even sway, but the crystal on its chest flickered a few times before finally struggling to emit a faint white light, within which a blurry number five slowly emerged.

"Body Forging level five, qualified. Next!"

Chief Steward Wang didn't even bother to lift his eyelids as he called out casually.

Seeing the number five, the thin, tall chore servant went limp, his face filled with the wild joy of having survived a brush with death.

He stumbled over to the line of those who had passed, feeling as if he had just returned from the gates of hell.

"Next!"

Another chore servant stepped forward, his face even paler than the last.

He roared as he charged, but when his fist struck the puppet, the sound was like hitting a pile of cotton.

The crystal flickered for a long time before finally dimming, displaying nothing at all.

"Not qualified?" The chore servant's face turned ashen as he muttered to himself.

"Trash, you haven't even reached Body Forging level three! Get over there!"

Chief Steward Wang waved his hand impatiently.

"Chief Steward Wang! Give me one more chance! I didn't sleep well last night, I didn't perform at my best! Please, give me one more chance!"

The chore servant fell to his knees with a thud, weeping and begging with snot and tears streaming down his face.

To be expelled from the sect and returned to the mortal world was, to him, worse than death.

After catching a glimpse of the methods of the immortals, who would be willing to return to being a mortal with a lifespan of less than a hundred years, subject to the cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death?

"A chance?"

Chief Steward Wang sneered, leaning forward from his chair to look down at him.

"The Spirit Sword Pavilion is not a charity. We've raised you for so many years, and you haven't even reached Body Forging level five—you still have the nerve to ask for a chance? Drag him away!"

Two burly chore servants immediately stepped forward and expressionlessly dragged the crying, struggling man toward the corner.

The desperate wails made the hearts of everyone waiting for the test turn cold.

The atmosphere instantly became incredibly oppressive.

The subsequent tests proceeded in this cycle of joy and despair.

"Body Forging level six, qualified!"

"Body Forging level four, not qualified! Get lost!"

"Body Forging level seven, not bad, you're qualified for this afternoon's competition!"

Some were overjoyed, while others looked like walking corpses.

The line that divided the qualified from the unqualified seemed to have become the boundary between heaven and hell.

Zhou Xuan stood at the end of the line, watching everything with a calm expression, his heart devoid of the slightest ripple.

He knew very well that the reason a sect was a sect was never because of how benevolent it was.

It was because it possessed higher-level cultivation techniques, a more stable environment, and most importantly, protection.

Without the protection of a sect, it is truly incredibly difficult for a rogue cultivator to grow.

Let alone achieving the Nascent Soul realm or attaining longevity, one would likely never even reach the Golden Core stage before being crushed like an ant in some unknown corner over a pittance of resources.

For these eliminated individuals, their path to immortality is effectively severed from this day forward.

"Next, Zhou Xuan!"

When Chief Steward Wang called out this name in his duck-like voice, the entire courtyard fell into an eerie silence for a moment.

Every gaze, whether from those who had already passed or those waiting to be tested, focused squarely on Zhou Xuan.

Those eyes were filled with undisguised schadenfreude and the playful anticipation of watching a spectacle.

"Heh, it's finally the turn of our Chore Servant Courtyard's celebrity."

"The bottom-ranked student—he's held that title for years now, and no one can take it from him."

"How many levels of Body Forging do you think he'll hit? I bet one, and not a bit more!"

"One? You're giving him too much credit. I heard that three months ago, he hadn't even stabilized at the first level of Body Forging. Maybe he won't even be able to light up the crystal!"

"Hahaha, then we're in for a good show. I've never liked that guy; he always looks so lifeless. He deserves to be kicked out!"

If you asked who was guaranteed to pass the assessment, no one would dare make a promise.

But if you asked who was certain to fail and be swept out the door, then Zhou Xuan, the perennial last-place finisher, was absolutely the only answer in everyone's mind.

Zhou Xuan turned a deaf ear to the harsh discussions and mockery surrounding him.

He walked slowly out of the line and arrived before the cold puppet.

His appearance even piqued a bit of interest from Chief Steward Wang, who shifted into a more comfortable position and squinted his eyes, preparing to enjoy the final performance of this famous good-for-nothing.

Zhou Xuan looked up at the puppet, then at the dull, gray crystal embedded in its chest.

He took a deep breath.

He inhaled so deeply and for so long that his chest swelled high, as if he were gathering all the strength in his body into this single punch.

The mocking laughter from the crowd grew louder.

"Look at him, he's putting on quite the act!"

"Who is he performing for? A loser is a loser; no matter how he pretends, he won't be able to achieve anything."

Zhou Xuan ignored them.

He bent his knees slightly, leaned his body back, and tensed the muscles in his right arm, assuming a standard power-gathering stance.

The spiritual energy within him flowed quietly, like a gentle stream.

He only needed to mobilize a sliver—even a strand as thin as a hair—to blast this dilapidated puppet into fragments.

But he could not.

The threats from Liu Ruyan and the surveillance of Chief Steward Wang rang in his mind like warning bells.

A tree that stands above the forest will be destroyed by the wind.

Without sufficient power to protect himself, any form of showing off was simply courting death.

He needed a reasonable identity that could explain his transformation.

A lucky fool who had stumbled upon good fortune and barely managed to crawl out of the mud.

Therefore, the fifth level of Body Forging—a score that just barely cleared the passing line—was the perfect disguise!

"Hah!"

Zhou Xuan let out a roar as if he were using every ounce of his strength, his voice raspy and strained.

He lunged forward, his body twisting, and his right fist slammed into the puppet's chest with a sense of desperate determination!