Watching the young man called Liu Mo walk step by step onto the raised platform, Xue Zhao drew close to Tie Rong, unease written across his face. Lowering his voice, he asked:
"Steward Tie, can this young man... really handle Jiang Feng?"
Tie Rong couldn't even be bothered to lift an eyelid. His tone was filled with undisguised contempt:
"Handle him?
You're underestimating Liu Mo far too much.
He's a genuine eighth-level Blood-Moving Realm expert. Forget just handling that kid—he could beat him to death within three moves without breaking a sweat."
He lifted his chin, his expression so certain he might as well have been stating an ironclad law of nature:
"After the seventh level of the Blood-Moving Realm, each successive level is worlds apart.
Forget a rookie who's only just touched the threshold of the seventh level. Even if he were a hair's breadth from the eighth, he still wouldn't have the slightest chance in a head-on fight.
Just watch. That kid's about to regret stepping onto this platform."
On the raised platform, Liu Mo looked at Jiang Feng with a simple, honest smile. His tone was friendly, too:
"You're Jiang Feng, right? I'm Liu Mo, an assistant instructor at the Guard Hall.
This assessment is simple. I'll make only three moves.
You can dodge, take them head-on, or use whatever method you like.
If you're still standing on this platform after three moves, you pass."
Jiang Feng cupped his hands in greeting but said nothing. He set his feet in a solid stance, neither too far apart nor too close, and settled into the Iron Stake Technique's posture.
Liu Mo stared at the opening stance he knew all too well, but the corner of his mouth quietly twisted into a vicious grin.
He spoke in a low voice. "Ready? Then let's begin."
Before the words had even left his mouth, he stomped forward. The whole platform shuddered with the force of his step.
His ferocious punch came wrapped in a razor-sharp gust of wind, shooting straight for Jiang Feng's face like lightning.
The Iron Stake Technique was designed to strengthen the body. When mastered, it greatly improved the strength of the limbs and the body's resistance to blows. But the face was its one weak point, a vital spot left vulnerable.
In past assessments, examiners had deliberately avoided striking there. They tested the body's ability to endure and the candidate's foundation instead. After all, this was an assessment, not a fight to the death. There was no need to get serious.
But Liu Mo's punch ran completely counter to that purpose.
He hadn't come to assess Jiang Feng. He'd come to cripple him—or even kill him.
"Kid, don't blame me. Blame your bad luck!"
Yet faced with the savage punch, Jiang Feng didn't panic in the slightest. He seemed to have expected it.
He turned his head and slipped to the side, lunging forward in almost the same instant. Closing the distance, he twisted his waist and drove his elbow hard into Liu Mo's face.
It all happened so fast that Liu Mo hadn't even reacted before a piercing pain shot through his face.
With a dull thud, the two suddenly parted.
Jiang Feng stood calmly where he was, as if nothing had happened.
Liu Mo stumbled back several steps, clutching his nose with both hands. Blood poured steadily through his fingers, leaving him a sorry sight.
"Fuck! You little bastard, you dare hit back?!"
The honest look vanished from Liu Mo's face in an instant, replaced by a vicious, furious scowl.
Jiang Feng remained calm, his voice as mild as if he were stating a simple fact:
"Assistant Instructor Liu, didn't you just say I could use any method? What about my elbow broke the rules?"
The crowd below the platform erupted.
In all the previous Guard Assessments, the candidates were always the ones who got humiliated and made fools of. So how had the examiner been the first to bleed this time?
Up in the stands, Xue Zhao, who had already been feeling uneasy, looked even more troubled. Was this really an eighth-level Blood-Moving Realm expert? Why had Jiang Feng driven him back instead?
He turned anxiously to Tie Rong and lowered his voice:
"Steward Tie, this..."
Tie Rong looked just as incredulous, his brows knotted tight.
"There's something strange about that kid. His strength and reflexes aren't like those of someone who's just entered the seventh level of the Blood-Moving Realm."
He turned to stare at Xue Zhao, a vicious glint now in his eyes.
"Are you sure he's only at the seventh level? Or did he break through not long ago?"
Xue Zhao was uneasy, too. But under Tie Rong's fierce glare, he could only steel himself and insist:
"I'm sure! If he'd broken through earlier, he wouldn't have waited until today to show it. He definitely just broke through recently!"
Tie Rong asked nothing more. He turned and called coldly to the platform:
"Liu Mo, stop wasting time. Finish it quickly."
On the fighting platform, the last of Liu Mo's friendly façade had been torn away. His gaze was full of venom as he glared at Jiang Feng.
Now that Tie Rong had given him the go-ahead, he stopped pretending. Wiping the blood from his face, he snarled:
"Kid, I was going to let you die with some dignity. Since you don't know what's good for you, don't blame me!"
He grabbed his crooked nose with his left hand and wrenched it back into place. Then he stepped forward with his left foot, lowered his hips, and settled into a horse stance. His blood and qi surged like a tide, rushing toward his fists.
This was the famous martial technique of the Guard Hall—the Mountain-Shaking Fist's Stele-Cracking Stance.
Liu Mo burst forward, rotating his right fist out from his waist. It tore through the air and drove straight for Jiang Feng's heart, while his left fist followed close behind. Together, they trapped him from both sides, sealing off his escape and aiming straight for his abdomen.
This was the culmination of everything Liu Mo had learned. Only a handful of people in the entire Guard Hall could withstand this punch.
He was certain Jiang Feng couldn't dodge it, let alone withstand it.
Jiang Feng stood motionless, sturdy as a pine tree in a gale.
He had no intention of dodging.
By now, he could see it clearly: Xue Zhao had found this man specifically to deal with him. They'd never intended to give him a proper assessment in the first place.
If that was the case, he had no reason to hold back.
A faint golden sheen flashed across his skin and vanished. The Golden Armor Technique had begun to circulate.
His blood and qi surged, flooding both fists. He threw them toward Liu Mo's face with equal ferocity, determined to meet him in a true head-on clash.
Seeing the blood and qi around Jiang Feng's fists—several times denser than his own—Liu Mo's pupils shrank. He was stunned.
"How is this possible? How could a seventh-level Blood-Moving Realm expert have such powerful blood and qi? Can't most seventh-level experts barely make theirs manifest at all?"
His mind was in turmoil, but his fists were already flying, his momentum spent. There was no pulling back now.
He could only put all his hopes on one thing: that his fists would hit Jiang Feng first and knock him out of the fight in a single blow.
In the blink of an eye, Liu Mo's fists slammed into Jiang Feng.
A vicious grin had just begun to spread across his face when it froze at the corners of his mouth, then shattered into sheer terror.
"T-This body isn't right!"
His punches had landed, but it felt nothing like striking flesh. It was like hitting a solid steel plate.
Not only had none of the blood and qi he'd poured into his blows penetrated Jiang Feng's body, but the force had left his entire arm numb.
A surge of fear shot through Liu Mo.
The man before him was no seventh-level Blood-Moving Realm expert. He was at least eighth level—perhaps even ninth!
He wanted to run, to shout for them to stop, but it was already too late.
Jiang Feng's fist was right in front of him. The dense red glow of blood and qi around its knuckles was so bright that Liu Mo could barely keep his eyes open.
At the last moment, Liu Mo desperately redirected what little blood and qi remained in his body toward his face, trying to shield his vital points. But the hastily gathered layer was as fragile as thin paper against the force of Jiang Feng's punch. It didn't hold him back for even an instant.
Jiang Feng's blood and qi poured straight into his skull, meeting no resistance.
The punch sent Liu Mo flying. His body traced a heavy arc through the air before crashing onto the platform with a roar, scattering dust all around.
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