C9 Exam

After registration closed, Wang Yu regained his strength and returned to the thatched cottage. There, the brothers caught up, and Zhao Lin learned that despite Wang Yu's sharp mind and spirit, his body was ill-suited for cultivation. He had joined the Firetalons on the off chance of finding a solution. The Firetalons disciples had only taken him in because of his keen intellect, after he had pleaded with them.

Zhao Lin offered words of comfort but made no promises. However, he resolved to find a cure for Wang Yu if there was any hope at all. With the advancement test looming the day after tomorrow, Zhao Lin spent his day chopping trees. At night, amidst the chorus of other voices, he returned to the cave to delve deeper into the secrets of the portrait.

He had only this night before the test. Although he might not make any breakthroughs in such a short time, Zhao Lin was determined not to fail the test – failure was not an option, and his nightly practice had become a year-long habit. Cultivation time flew by, and after a night of meditation, his mind was racing, yet he felt no fatigue, only invigorated.

The day of the assessment had arrived, and the Firetalons Sect showed some leniency by not requiring the servant disciples to work. Meanwhile, the sect had finally begun to investigate Chen Quan's disappearance. After coming up empty, they sent a new person to oversee matters. Wang Yu, lounging in front of the cottage, soaked up the sun, occasionally glancing at Zhao Lin with a hunch that he was somehow linked to Chen Quan's vanishing.

At dawn the next day, a rooster's crow stirred the disciples into action. After quickly freshening up, they hurried to the testing grounds. The service disciples' examination area was in a clearing within the forest to the right of the mountain, where the triennial test was conducted. Upon their arrival, three people were already waiting: two young disciples and a middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man surveyed the shabbily dressed service disciples with disdain and promptly commenced the assessment. "The first challenge: chopping trees!" he declared. Zhao Lin's face took on an odd expression, while the others looked puzzled. The sect's testing methods varied each time, but such a straightforward task as chopping trees was unprecedented.

"Chop down ten iron trees within the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Regardless of the tree's size, it must be felled with exactly twenty strokes—no more, no less," they were told. Those who had thought the task simple were soon lamenting loudly. The iron trees were as hard as any ordinary axe could handle. The real challenge was that each tree had to be chopped with precisely twenty strokes, testing not only the disciples' ability to count but also their mastery over their wakan. Without wakan, felling an iron tree would be a formidable task.

"Light the incense; the examination begins!" With that announcement, all the disciples rushed toward the nearby iron trees to commence their chopping. Thud, thud. Those without sufficient cultivation could only manage to leave a faint white mark on the iron trees despite their utmost effort. Meanwhile, Zhao Lin swung his axe with ease, his strokes neither too many nor too few, exactly twenty, and with that, an iron tree fell. The cut was clean, with twenty axe marks, evenly spaced and of uniform depth.

Zhao Lin was not the only one capable of cutting down the iron trees; more than twenty others also possessed the skill. However, they did not share Zhao Lin's ease, nor could they match the consistency of his strokes. Among these twenty, a few, like Zhao Lin, were noted separately, as if the sect had already recognized their exceptional potential.

"Time is up!" As the allotted time ended, there were sounds of both cheers and groans among the participants. Zhao Lin observed that out of the three hundred or so disciples who took part in the assessment, only about fifty had managed to cut down ten iron trees. This meant that five-sixths of the participants were eliminated, an astonishingly high attrition rate.

"Those who have felled ten trees may remain; all others must return immediately and are not permitted to linger," instructed the disciple overseeing the assessment. Those who had failed left with heavy hearts, while those who had succeeded were visibly elated. Two disciples then checked the trees each person had cut and disqualified two more for exceeding the twenty-stroke limit on each tree.

When Zhao Lin chopped down the trees, the onlookers' faces registered shock before they quickly composed themselves. "Next, those whose names I call will come with me; the rest will follow him!" After the inspection, a disciple began reading off the names, with Zhao Lin's at the very top. Zhao Lin was thrilled. Was this a result of his tree-cutting prowess? Though he hadn't seen the others' results, he was confident that no one had outperformed him. His name was the first to be called—perhaps they were going to give him special treatment?

Once the roll call was complete, over ten people, including Zhao Lin, followed one guide, while the others went with a different one. Beyond the Iron Forest, a mountain peak loomed, with a winding path leading straight to the summit. The Assessment Disciple pointed upwards and announced, "I'll meet you at the peak once the incense stick burns out. Anyone late will be disqualified!" With that, he vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Wow, that Senior Brother is incredibly fast. Is he from the Inner Sect?" someone gasped. Chen Xu shook his head and started up the path. That man couldn't be from the Inner Sect; Xie Ling, Wang Feng, and the others from the Inner Sect could practically fly. The man they saw was merely a swift runner.

Zhao Lin gazed at the mountain piercing the sky, took a deep breath, and charged up the path. "Damn, he's so fast! Is he an Inner Sect disciple too?" The previous speaker was startled. The rest cast him a disdainful look and sprinted up the mountain. The path was narrow and treacherous—most people would take hours to reach the summit, but Zhao Lin moved with the speed of the wind, as if the rugged terrain were flat ground.

The others were quick, but they paled in comparison to Zhao Lin. Nearing the summit, Zhao Lin's expression turned cautious. His hunter's instincts, sharp and unerring, made him feel as though he was being watched by a venomous snake lurking in the shadows.

Zhao Lin didn't decelerate but remained acutely aware of his surroundings, his eyes scanning and ears picking up every sound. He was mere dozens of steps from the mountain's summit when suddenly, a whistling noise sliced through the air. Zhao Lin's face contorted, and he executed a swift roll on the ground. As he hit the dirt, a soft thud sounded from the nearby stone wall. Several tiny projectiles, no larger than embroidery needles, struck the wall, leaving behind dark marks before vanishing from sight.

Another volley of whistling projectiles filled the air, far more numerous this time. Zhao Lin's face paled—this was no ordinary assessment. What kind of test was designed to be lethal? Trapped with no cover, his entire body was vulnerable to the relentless assault of the hidden weapons. "Damn it!" Zhao Lin swore, drawing his dagger and skillfully deflecting the incoming projectiles. He quickened his pace, dodging and weaving as he made a desperate dash for the mountain peak.