The hall was imposing, radiating authority without overt displays. At its center sat Yang Dingtian, the venerable leader of the Ironforge Sect, his white hair and beard lending him an air of unshakable dignity. Though appearing in his fifties, his posture was straight, and his long robe commanded respect.
Flanking him were two equally striking figures. Wang Shan, master of the Pole Star Hall, was a towering man over two meters tall, his broad shoulders and dark, weathered skin making him seem more beast than man. Clad in black, he exuded a raw, military presence. On the other side was Sun Tiexin, head of the Artisan Hall. His gray, close-fitting garb revealed arms rippling with corded muscle. His thick black eyebrows framed fierce eyes, and his bristling hair resembled the sharp bristles of a boar.
The three sat upon grand armchairs, their presence intimidating even before they spoke. Behind them stood a row of elders, their faces as stoic as statues.
Yang Dingtian’s gaze swept across the assembled apprentices, his expression impassive but discerning. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority:
“This year’s crop isn’t bad. We’ve attracted more talent than usual. The sect’s growth owes much to you two.”
Wang Shan and Sun Tiexin both inclined their heads humbly.
“We dare not claim credit,” they said in unison.
Their roles were critical: Wang Shan enforced discipline and led external campaigns, while Sun Tiexin oversaw the crafting of weapons and tools essential for martial cultivation. Together, they had solidified the Ironforge Sect’s dominance in Lu County.
However, Wang Shan’s sharp eyes narrowed, and he let out a low scoff. “Quantity means nothing without quality. The Canal Sect recruited a Grade-A talent last year. Our sect hasn’t seen a seedling of that caliber in decades. At this rate, we’ll face a bleak future.”
His gaze flicked over the apprentices like a predator sizing up prey. A few wilted under his scrutiny, their knees trembling.
Among the group, Su Zhe, an apprentice with a calm demeanor, noticed Wang Shan’s gaze linger momentarily on a stern-looking youth.
“Bah!” Sun Tiexin interrupted, his coarse voice booming. “Even if we lose some profits, the Ironforge Sect will stand as long as I’m here! We built this sect on craftsmanship, not reliance on prodigies.”
To emphasize his point, he nonchalantly dug into his ear and flicked a glob of wax onto a nearby apprentice, who froze in disgust, not daring to move.
Wang Shan shot Sun Tiexin a cold glare and shook his head with a sigh. “You’ve heard the rumors. The Swordsmith Manor in Tangfu Town is opening its gates wide, seeking the best talents in the land. Only those with exceptional gifts can gain entry.” He paused, his tone dripping with disdain. “Explaining this to you is like playing music to a cow.”
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Sun Tiexin’s eyes flared with anger. Though rough around the edges, he was no fool, and he took the insult personally. Just as he prepared to retort, Yang Dingtian’s commanding voice cut through the tension.
“You are both pillars of this sect. Bickering like this will only invite ridicule. Sit down and behave!”
Sun Tiexin clenched his fists but held his tongue.
Turning back to the apprentices, Yang Dingtian addressed them: “You have trained hard for three years. The time has come to test your abilities. Martial cultivation is a gift from the heavens, requiring both innate talent and determination. I may not be a master orator, but I’ve honed my bone-assessment technique. Step forward, and let the evaluation begin.”
One by one, the apprentices were called forward. Yang Dingtian would examine them with practiced hands, his movements deliberate yet efficient. Each session lasted only a few breaths before he announced the result.
“Rank C-Plus. Continue as an outer disciple for three more years,” he declared to one.
The apprentice staggered as if struck, his dreams of rapid advancement shattered.
“Ridiculous,” Wang Shan growled, his disdain palpable. “Even if you fail to enter the inner sect, receiving one tael of silver is more than generous. You should be grateful.”
The mention of silver caused a stir among the apprentices. For these youths, who had often paid their way into the sect, one tael was a small fortune.
Su Zhe watched as Yang Dingtian’s hands moved over his body. The sect leader’s fingers pressed, kneaded, and tapped his bones with precision. As he finished, Yang Dingtian paused, raising an eyebrow.
“Rank B-Minus. Interesting. You possess the ‘Strength of an Ox’ trait.”
The hall erupted into murmurs. A “Strength of an Ox” physique was rare, making Su Zhe an ideal candidate for training in the Artisan Hall’s Mighty Ox Skill.
Sun Tiexin’s eyes gleamed momentarily, but he soon shook his head. “His bone rank barely meets the standard for inner disciples. A pity.”
Su Zhe’s expression darkened. Deep down, he had expected better. His master, Chen, had passed on his bone enhancement technique to Su Zhe, which should have elevated his rank. That he barely made the cut implied his original aptitude was below even his master’s.
Still, Su Zhe suppressed his frustration and bowed gracefully. “This disciple thanks the sect for the opportunity.”
Yang Dingtian studied him for a moment longer. “Your physique is unusual. Perhaps my technique has its limits. Train diligently in the inner sect.”
With that, Su Zhe joined the successful candidates, earning whispers of congratulations from his peers.
The evaluation continued, and soon, the hall erupted in astonishment. Yang Dingtian announced: “Grade A! A rare talent indeed!”
All eyes turned to the stoic youth Wang Shan had earlier noticed—Yu Yi.
The sect leader’s face lit up with joy. “A Grade-A talent! With this, our sect’s future shines brighter.”
While others celebrated, Su Zhe remained composed. He thought, Grade A? Naturally, there are talents like this in the world. But Su Zhe isn’t bound to a small sect or county. My path lies beyond.
As the evaluations ended, Yang Dingtian’s voice boomed again: “Qualifying disciples, step forward!”
Su Zhe, Yu Yi, and others advanced.
“The martial path values both aptitude and perseverance,” Yang Dingtian declared. “Even prodigies can falter without diligence. To ensure your resolve, a final test awaits!”
Sun Tiexin grinned wickedly, motioning to his disciples. They brought forth massive hammers, each weighing fifteen jin, slamming them to the ground with resounding booms.
“You’ll learn the Stone-Crushing Ox Hammer Technique in one hour,” Sun Tiexin bellowed. “Then, show me your endurance. Whoever lasts the longest earns my respect!”
Su Zhe’s heart sank. This was no ordinary test—it was grueling even for seasoned practitioners. But his thoughts took a wry turn: Is this the Guo Jing exam? I should’ve memorized the Nine Yin Manual beforehand!