Newcomers' Monthly Assessment

Three days later, the newcomers' Monthly Assessment officially began.

The sky had not fully brightened, yet the training ground was already packed with people. The newcomers who usually chatted and laughed had mostly quieted down today. Even Zhao Chuan had rarely put away some of his joking mood, merely standing among the crowd and loosening his wrists as he occasionally glanced toward the high platform.

Chen Mo stood in the line and glanced from afar at the martial hall's outer wall. A figure seemed to pause outside the wall for a moment before quickly leaving. He could not make out who it was and did not dwell on it, instead drawing his attention back.

Instructor Li stepped forward and briefly explained the rules. Then the Monthly Assessment officially began.

The first event was a basic fist-form demonstration.

The newcomers stepped up one after another.

Quite a few clearly wanted to leave a good impression on the instructor in the first event. They threw their punches with particular force, driving their waists and hips too fiercely and making their closing stances rushed. Some even moved so fast that their footwork became tangled.

When Wang Lie stepped up, the sidelines quickly fell quiet.

His fists had none of those flashy movements. His opening stance was simple, but his punches landed with tremendous weight. Every strike against the wooden post produced a deep, muffled thud, and several newcomers nearby instinctively exchanged glances.

Chen Mo watched from within the crowd.

He knew Wang Lie was strong, but he had not expected him to make even the basic fist form look like this.

What caught his attention even more was that after Wang Lie finished one round, he did not immediately leave the field. Instead, he stepped aside and went through the parts where he had made mistakes again. While the others had begun resting after finishing, he was still adjusting his movements over and over.

Chen Mo watched for a while and could not help muttering inwardly.

No wonder.

This guy was already stronger than everyone else, and he still trained more than they did.

When it was Zhao Chuan's turn, the atmosphere in the field visibly relaxed.

The moment he started, he struck with the force of a tiger and the wind of a dragon, the wind from his fists making his sleeves sway. The first few moves were fairly convincing, but when he turned to close his stance, his feet became tangled, and he nearly tripped over himself.

Someone below the platform could not hold back a laugh.

Zhao Chuan's face was nearly black when he stepped down.

Chen Mo went over to meet him and deliberately asked, "What happened?"

Zhao Chuan gritted his teeth. "I just didn't place my foot right."

"Oh."

Chen Mo nodded.

"When have you ever not failed to place your foot right?"

"Shut up."

Zhao Chuan shot him a glare.

As the two talked, it became Chen Mo's turn.

He stood before the wooden post without deliberately making his movements look fierce and powerful. He simply followed his usual rhythm, performing each move in sequence.

Opening stance, turn, punch, closing stance.

There were no obvious mistakes throughout the set, and his footwork and breathing were far steadier than before. Especially when turning and changing steps, he instinctively let his body follow the shift in his center of gravity beforehand rather than waiting until his foot landed to adjust.

Instructor Li watched him for a while and only said blandly after he finished, "Steadier than last time."

Chen Mo froze for a moment.

It was only one sentence.

Yet when he stepped down, the corners of his mouth still could not help curving upward slightly.

Zhao Chuan saw it from the side and immediately exposed him. "One compliment and you're this happy?"

"Am I?"

"Aren't you?"

Chen Mo pressed his lips together and forcibly suppressed his smile.

"Mind your own business."

The second event was the weight-bearing test.

Several stone blocks of different sizes sat in the center of the training ground, each corresponding to a different weight. The instructor had the newcomers step forward in turn, shoulder a stone block, carry it to the designated location as required, and set it down.

The first person to make everyone truly nervous was Wang Lie.

He walked up to the heaviest stone block, bent down and wrapped his arms around it, then lowered his waist and rose. The instant the stone block left the ground, cries of surprise broke out nearby.

"He can carry something that heavy?"

Wang Lie said nothing, merely carrying the stone block forward one step at a time.

After completing one circuit, he set the stone block down steadily. He stood where he was and took several breaths, but there was no obvious change in his expression.

Chen Mo frowned as he watched.

This guy really was powerful.

Zhao Chuan muttered softly beside him, "Did he grow up eating rocks?"

Chen Mo nearly laughed.

When it was Zhao Chuan's turn, he chose a weight in the heavier middle range.

It went fairly smoothly at first, but halfway through, his steps visibly slowed. By the time he put down the stone block, his whole face was flushed red, and he stood there recovering for quite a while.

Chen Mo handed him a cloth.

Zhao Chuan took it and wiped away his sweat, still refusing to admit weakness. "I could actually carry something even heavier."

Chen Mo looked at his wobbling legs.

"Stand steady first, then talk."

Zhao Chuan glared at him irritably.

Soon, it was Chen Mo's turn.

He walked to a medium-weight stone block and tested it with one hand. Then he lowered his body and slowly lifted the stone block.

He could complete this weight class steadily.

But when he tried moving on to a heavier one, his arms began trembling the moment he exerted force, and the weight pressed his waist and back downward.

Chen Mo did not force himself.

After pausing briefly, he still set the stone block back on the ground.

People nearby began whispering.

"Chen Mo's fists and kicks are decent, but his strength really is average."

"If he gets into a fight, someone like him probably won't have the advantage."

Chen Mo heard them, but did not turn around.

He could not say he felt terribly upset.

He merely lowered his head and looked at his hands.

He truly could not lift the stone block from that weight class.

There was nothing to stubbornly deny about that.

The third event was formal sparring.

Everyone drew lots to determine their opponent.

This time, Chen Mo did not run into that newcomer from before.

His opponent was slightly stronger than him and had steadier movements as well.

The two stepped into the ring. When the instructor called for them to begin, Chen Mo did not rush to attack.

He watched first.

His opponent was used to punching from the right.

When his left foot moved, his shoulder would lean forward in advance.

These details were tiny, but after seeing them enough times, Chen Mo gradually caught onto the pattern.

When the first punch came, he twisted aside and avoided it.

For the second punch, he retreated half a step and deflected the fist to one side.

His opponent launched several consecutive attacks without truly touching him, and people by the sidelines soon began discussing it.

"How does this kid keep dodging?"

"Just good luck, probably."

Chen Mo heard them but did not care.

Once they truly exchanged blows, he became increasingly certain that what he had brought back from the mountains was indeed useful.

But the training ground's surface was too level. There were no rocky slopes for him to borrow force from, so much of the time, he could only rely on his own footwork to make adjustments.

That made the shortcomings of his body even more obvious.

Unable to dodge in time once, he took a punch to the shoulder.

Chen Mo only felt half his body go numb as he staggered back two steps.

His opponent immediately pressed forward.

Chen Mo gritted his teeth and dodged the next punch. Only when his opponent's center of gravity settled did he push aside the other's arm and open up the distance.

After several exchanges, Chen Mo never tried to meet him head-on.

He dodged whenever he could. When he could not, he redirected part of the force, never giving his opponent a chance to keep up a continuous pursuit.

In the end, after several fierce attacks missed their mark, his opponent's movements gradually became impatient.

Chen Mo seized an opening, dodged a punch aimed straight at him, and then gave a light shove at the side of his opponent's shoulder.

His opponent's footing faltered, and he stepped out of the ring.

"Stop."

The instructor spoke.

Chen Mo had won this match.

Yet there was not much cheering from the sidelines.

To most people, the sparring match had not been particularly impressive.

There had been no clean, decisive heavy punches, nor had either person directly overwhelmed the other.

Chen Mo had merely kept dodging, kept circling, and finally won by making fewer mistakes.

He himself did not think much of it.

Winning was enough.

After stepping down, Zhao Chuan came over.

"You really could run just now."

Chen Mo glanced at him.

"Jealous?"

"Jealous my ass."

Zhao Chuan spoke with disdain, but his eyes still could not help looking back toward the ring.

When it was his turn to step up, he was clearly holding back a breath of frustration.

But his attacks were too rushed, and an opening in his defense quickly appeared.

His opponent seized the chance and tapped a fist against his chest.

"Stop."

Zhao Chuan lost.

He still wore a smile when he stepped down.

"It's fine."

"I'll win it back next time."

Chen Mo could tell that his smile was somewhat forced. He did not ask more on the spot, merely patting him on the shoulder.

"Then next time, you'd better protect your face first."

Zhao Chuan glared at him.

"I already lost, and you're still laughing at me?"

"Who told you to leave such a huge opening just now?"

"You..."

The two bickered for a few moments, and the atmosphere became much lighter instead.

After the Monthly Assessment ended, no one immediately dispersed.

Some sat by the field to rest, while others had already gathered together to estimate their scores. Chen Mo was just about to find somewhere to sit when he heard two senior disciples from the outer courtyard speaking quietly not far away.

"Grinding away at skin, flesh, fists, and kicks every day only lays the foundation."

"That real threshold isn't something you can touch just by training yourself to death."

The other man gave a snort.

"Some people stay in this outer courtyard for years and still never even touch its edge."

Their voices were not loud, but Chen Mo heard them very clearly.

He paused.

Zhao Chuan beside him had already moved closer.

"What threshold?"

Seeing they were newcomers, the two had no interest in explaining much. They only casually said a few words before leaving.

But Zhao Chuan looked as though he had heard some earth-shattering news.

"I knew it."

Chen Mo looked at him.

"What did you know?"

"I heard before that truly formidable martial artists have another kind of force inside their bodies, not like the fists and kicks we use now."

He spoke with great seriousness.

"Some people even say that once you reach that level, you can send someone flying from far away."

Chen Mo glanced at him.

"Who told you that?"

"A storyteller."

"..."

Chen Mo could not be bothered to expose him.

Wang Lie was packing up not far away. Hearing those words, he merely glanced over, then lowered his head again to recall the movements from their sparring match.

Chen Mo did not laugh.

The words of those two senior disciples lodged in his heart like tiny thorns.

The threshold.

What exactly was it?

He did not know.

And no one would stop just because he was new to the martial hall and explain it to him.

In the training ground, the ledgers for the Monthly Assessment had all been taken away.

The crowd gradually dispersed.

Some were still arguing over whose score was higher, some were guessing whether they could make the top ten, and some had already begun discussing how they should train next month.

Chen Mo stood alone at the edge of the grounds.

He looked back at the stone pedestal he had carried earlier, then toward the now-empty sparring area.

His mind was perfectly clear.

His fists were better than when he had first entered the martial hall.

What he had learned in the mountains could indeed be put to use.

But the gap in strength was still right there.

Things Wang Lie could do were things he could not.

Those from wealthy families had medicine and boxing manuals. He had neither.

As for the "threshold" those two senior disciples had mentioned, he had even less of a clue.

Chen Mo stood there for a while, then lowered his head and looked at his fists.

"Really..."

Halfway through, he swallowed the words back down.

Forget it.

He would wait until the rankings came out.

At least this time, he was no longer like when he had first entered the martial hall, knowing nothing at all.

In the distance, night was slowly falling.

The lights around the training ground came on as well.