Inside the vast Training Ground, the students taking the exam stood in lines, looking up at the proctor at the front.
The middle-aged brute with a scar across his face and a fearsome aura was Lei Jun, the martial arts teacher of Zhang Yu's class.
If, among the five main immortal-arts subjects in high school, Dao Heart, Mana, and PE built the foundation, then martial arts and Dao arts were chiefly the applied techniques of the immortal arts.
On whether martial arts or Dao arts was stronger — cultivators each held their own views. Zhang Yu still remembered the outrageous creed Lei Jun had proclaimed in the very first class.
"Martial arts are of great use in this world. Dao arts are useless. With every Dao art you train, you get poorer. In the end everyone's money is raked in by the corporations and you all end up paupers. Martial arts cost less and work just fine — so train cheap martial arts, and you'll grow rich."
That was Lei Jun's martial creed. And as today's proctor, he likewise relied on no Dao arts whatsoever.
His arrangement for the monthly exam had always been to have students of similar scores draw lots and fight one-on-one. Each pair fought three rounds of three minutes; if someone was knocked down or went out of bounds, the round ended. When all three were done, the teacher graded both on their performance.
This resembled the martial combat practical of the college entrance exam — except there, candidates fought Yellow-Turban Strongmen and never one another. But for a monthly exam, hiring them would only waste the school's money.
Once the rules were explained, the big screen overhead flashed, names surfaced, and the draw began. When it finished, the results were pushed to each student's phone, ordering them to their assigned spots.
The entire ground had been divided with white lines into a grid of small squares, each a dozen-odd square meters — every square its own arena.
Zhang Yu walked to Square 12 and found He Dayou already waiting. He Dayou nodded with a polite smile; Zhang Yu nodded back.
"Finally." He Dayou held back the violent churn within him.
To have a legitimate excuse to teach Zhang Yu a lesson, He Dayou had lightly exploited his privilege as a board member's son, drawing Zhang Yu — 10th last month — as the opponent of himself, 3rd. By the draw rules, the two could pass as having close scores, so no one would question it.
"But over this past month, apart from Mana class, his progress in every other subject must have fallen behind long ago — his real rank should be around 20 to 30."
As for himself, He Dayou had kept his top-three standard, pushed Free Fighting to Level 2 half a month ago, and recently learned a new martial art at a cram school.
"Though I won't need it. Against this piece of trash, Level 2 Free Fighting is plenty. The question is... hurt his hand? Or his leg?"
While mulling this over, the two walked to the center of the square and stood a meter and change apart, He Dayou's eyes already planning how to strike him down.
Outside the square, an assistant teacher pulled out a phone to record the fight. Afterward, Lei Jun and the other first-year martial arts teachers would review all the videos in turn and grade them.
"Are you two ready?" At the assistant teacher's question, both nodded.
"Then, Elite Class Zhang Yu and He Dayou, first round..."
"Three, two, one, begin!"
At the command, He Dayou struck instantly, his right arm a blur, a palm chopping toward Zhang Yu's throat. He'd already worked out Zhang Yu's likely counters — as a rich second generation, he had time and money to hire sparring partners daily, and had cracked every possible reaction.
This payoff of combat experience, plus Level 2 Free Fighting, gave He Dayou absolute confidence.
"Then... let's hit the hand." Mana surged toward his palm...
Bang!
A massive sound came from He Dayou's abdomen. He felt his vision spinning wildly, the hard ground, the pain all over his body. It took a full few seconds to register that he'd been sent flying by a single move and was lying on the ground.
"I got one-shot? How is that possible?" His face flushed crimson.
Seeing his agitation, the assistant teacher simply played back the fight. In the video, the moment He Dayou threw his palm, Zhang Yu reacted first, ducking under the blow while slamming his whole body into He Dayou and hurling him out of bounds with a body-throw. The process took under a second, and it looked almost as if He Dayou had deliberately cooperated in being flung off.
Watching this, resentment grew in him. He clearly hadn't gone all out, he clearly still had his new martial art unused — one mere lapse and...
"I underestimated him. I was actually distracted, thinking about other things while fighting..."
He knew that, whether carelessness or lapse, any excuse now would only humiliate him further. So he took a deep breath and nodded: "Well fought. Let's continue."
The two stepped back into the square, standing a meter apart.
Zhang Yu smiled at He Dayou, thinking: "My combat score for this practical should be pretty high."
The effect of Level 3 Free Fighting was even better than he'd expected. Though his combat experience likely couldn't match rich kid He Dayou's, Level 3 made him utterly familiar with all fifteen moves.
In the last fight, almost the instant He Dayou struck, Zhang Yu already knew what he was going to do and where the opening would appear. And the moment the thought welled up, his body had already moved — charging forward, Mana surging into both arms, and off the opponent went.
"In a Free Fighting clash among first-years, so long as the opponent's level is below 3, their reaction will be a hair slower than mine. Plus my physical strength is no slouch. In a duel with any first-year in the whole school... I doubt I'd lose a single one."
On the other side, He Dayou's expression was grave now, none of the breezy ease of last round. He resolved to go all out, to crush Zhang Yu. This time he would give no chance at all.
"Zhang Yu and He Dayou, second round."
"Three, two, one, begin!"
The instant the assistant spoke, He Dayou exploded with full force, his right fist wreathed in surging Mana, smashing toward Zhang Yu's face.
Boom!
Another thunderous sound. Again the familiar spinning vision, the hard cold ground, the pain all over. He Dayou stumbled up, dazed. He'd been one-shot again?
In the recorded video this time, the very moment he threw his punch, Zhang Yu had kicked him square in the chest and sent him flying — both moved so fast it looked as though He Dayou had charged chest-first into the extended foot.
The third round began. This time He Dayou didn't leap in with full force. He adopted a defensive stance, cautiously studying his opponent.
Zhang Yu thought: "One-shot twice in a row, and now he's gotten careful?"
Just now he'd been able to instant-kill because, the instant the other attacked, relying on his familiarity with Free Fighting he'd predicted the move and trajectory, then actively met the opening on the path of the full-force strike — exploiting the stacking of both their speeds, losing He Dayou before he could react.
But once He Dayou grew cautious, Zhang Yu couldn't reproduce those two kills. Still, he had his own tactical preparation.
With Mana and physical strength both soaring, he was confident he and third-ranked He Dayou were a match for each other — even physically, the other man developed evenly like him, not a bulky power route.
Since the opponent wouldn't attack, Zhang Yu would strike first. He channeled his Mana and drove a palm at He Dayou's chest.
"Here it comes!" A gleam flashed in He Dayou's eyes, and he threw a punch to block.
Then Zhang Yu came again with the same palm.
"The same move? What's he playing at?"
After three palms in a row, He Dayou felt his arm going numb, his Mana churning. Zhang Yu's Mana was so rich, his physical power so ferocious — beyond his expectations. And the tactic was simple: a head-on, strength-for-strength clash.
Zhang Yu's Level 3 Free Fighting meant the same move, in his hands, burst out with greater physical power and richer Mana — a huge edge in head-on clashes.
He Dayou realized this soon enough, but a smile crept unbidden to the corner of his mouth.
"You want to clash head-on with me? Then let's clash. Let's see who's harder."
He channeled the new martial art he'd just learned, the Little Tianxing Palm. The Mana in his dantian instantly turned into an icy, yin-cold palm power, blasting toward Zhang Yu.