Essays and Martial Arts (Please Read Daily)

The next morning, the essay examination began at dawn.

The Martial Arts Arena had been filled early with rows of small desks, where all the examinees would write their answers.

Since this was only one part of the martial examination, the arrangements naturally weren't as elaborate as those for the civil service exams.

The examination lasted only half a day, and papers would be collected at noon.

The first section tested dictation. The Great Wu Dynasty had compiled a definitive collection of military strategy, totaling thirty-six volumes!

Each year, passages from some of the thirty-six volumes were selected for examinees to write from memory.

Those who wrote the most, and the most accurately, naturally scored the highest.

Next came two questions on military strategy, testing the examinees' ability to discuss how tactics could be applied.

Since this was a county-level examination, the questions wouldn't be too tricky.

Zhao An had already filled his head with a good deal of military knowledge. Though he'd never been on a real battlefield, his theoretical preparation was quite thorough.

He wasn't expecting a particularly high score. As long as the essays didn't drag down his results too much, he was all but certain to make the list and earn the official title of Martial Student.

At noon, a clang of the gong brought the essay examination to an end.

During the exam, many examinees had scratched their heads in a panic, but with their minds blank, they could barely squeeze out a few words.

There was no helping it. Those brawny, burly men could barely grip a brush with their thick arms while hunched over tiny stools; how could anyone expect them to write long essays?

It was easy to talk about being accomplished in both civil and martial arts, but few in the world could truly manage it.

The examinees who had performed poorly rose to their feet with their heads hanging low and worry etched across their faces.

All they could do was place their hopes in the final martial bouts.

Before the bouts began, each examinee drew a lot to determine his opponent. This round tested not only one's actual strength but also one's luck.

How many rounds each examinee managed to last would affect his final score.

For that reason, no one wanted to draw one of the popular Martial Student candidates who seemed certain to make the list right from the start.

"Lord Zhao, draw a lot." The minor official, who had shown the other examinees no courtesy, grew much more polite when he approached Zhao An, even wearing a smile.

"Every lot is a lucky one for you. You've nothing to fear, no matter who you face."

"..." Zhao An ignored the flattery and casually drew a lot. A number was written on it.

Now he just had to wait for some unlucky fellow with the matching number.

Meanwhile, the County Magistrate had also arrived at the Martial Arts Arena and was seated on the raised platform, just as he had been the day before.

"Did the essay exam go smoothly this morning?" Tao Heng asked the guard beside him.

Perhaps watching a group of muscle-bound brutes write had been too dull. The County Magistrate hadn't attended the morning session.

He was clearly more interested in watching the afternoon bouts.

"Everything went smoothly. No one cheated," Tao Jinyi replied with a nod.

"Mm." Tao Heng's gaze swept over the crowd, then he suddenly asked, "What about that lad? How did he do?"

"He's quick-witted. He did well enough." Tao Jinyi knew who the County Magistrate meant, and his gaze fell on Zhao An among the crowd as he answered.

"Heh. Being able to read and write is enough. A person's energy is limited, after all. If he's strong in martial arts, he's bound to be weaker in other areas."

"Even in Prefecture City, that man would have great prospects." Tao Heng rubbed the stubble on his chin and smiled.

Tao Jinyi made no comment.

The martial bouts began soon after.

The entire Martial Arts Arena filled with people. The examinees paired off and fought, and whoever remained standing won.

They could choose their weapons. The weapons on the racks had all been specially made for bouts like these.

Zhao An chose a Wild Goose Blade. It was just like the one he used every day, except its edge was dull. Unless someone was intent on killing, it couldn't kill anyone.

As soon as Zhao An took his place in the arena, his opponent's face turned ashen.

He'd drawn the worst lot—the one every examinee dreaded.

The sight of Zhao An swinging the Thousand-Catty Tripod with one arm the day before was still fresh in everyone's mind. No one had the courage to face this brute.

"Get ready and start. Don't waste time," a petty official urged, frowning at the burly man who was dragging his feet.

The burly man was broad and thickset. He steeled himself, swung his great cleaver, and charged at Zhao An, afraid that if he moved too slowly, he wouldn't even get the chance to strike.

Zhao An's expression didn't change. He raised a foot and kicked. The man flew backward even faster than he'd charged, as if he'd been hit head-on by a train, and landed hanging from a nearby weapon rack.

"Z-Zhao An wins!" The petty official swallowed, recovered his wits, and shouted. When he looked at the burly man, all he could feel was sympathy.

If that kick had landed on him, foaming at the mouth would've been the least of his worries.

The first round was over. His opponent was a Martial Savage who hadn't yet cultivated Internal Breath, so there wasn't much to say about it.

By the second round, the number of examinees still standing in the arena had halved. It no longer looked quite so crowded.

"It's over!"

Zhao An's opponent in the second round looked as miserable as the last one, cursing his bad luck. He'd already be out by the second round.

"Please," Zhao An said calmly.

"Please..."

His second-round opponent had cultivated Internal Breath, but had only a few dozen units of it. Against Zhao An, he was like a mayfly trying to shake a tree.

Zhao An sent him flying with a kick again, ending the second round.

The only difference was that his opponent remained conscious enough not to get stuck on the weapon rack.

He didn't use his blade because he was afraid he might not hold back. Even with its edge dulled, the iron weapon in his hands could hit too hard for his opponent to withstand.

By the third round, the examinees who had made it this far were all fairly strong. Many martial artists who had cultivated Internal Breath had gathered there.

Zhao An's opponent was a little stronger than the last one. He fought with a spear and might have advanced further if he hadn't run into Zhao An.

But alas.

Zhao An swept out with his blade. The man and his spear both went flying, and Zhao An advanced with ease once more.

By the fourth round, fewer than a hundred examinees remained in the arena. More than half of them had cultivated Internal Breath.

The wealthy gentlemen watching from the sidelines had their servants memorize these men's faces and names.

Once the county examination was over, they would send people to approach them.

"Mm..." Zhao An looked at his opponent for this round, his expression growing a little more serious.

It was the only other examinee besides him who had managed to lift the Thousand-Catty Tripod.

The man wore ordinary martial clothes, and his hair was simply tied back with a band.

His face bore the weathered look of someone who had endured many hardships, and he was clearly no longer young.

In the Great Wu Dynasty, neither civil nor martial examinations imposed an age limit on applicants. Only talent and practical ability mattered.

So it wasn't unusual to see gray-haired examinees in the examination grounds.

By comparison, the man before him was around thirty or forty, in the prime of his strength.

"Diancang Blade, Xu Hong." Xu Hong drew his long blade, his expression solemn and his tone grave.

"Please." Zhao An had no Jianghu habit of announcing his name before a fight. He simply raised his blade as well, letting his opponent know that he, too, fought with a blade.