The sky over the Central Military Testing Grounds was grey, but the courtyard pulsed with heat and noise. Recruits filled the staging plaza—some talking nervously, others posturing with loud laughter and confident gestures. The sharp tang of iron and sweat hung in the air.
A large array board flickered at the center of the plaza, displaying names and assigned numbers.
Lin Hao glanced up just as his name appeared: #427. Beside him, Qingyue looked toward her own number—#428. A small twist of her lips betrayed her amusement.
"Looks like we'll be paired again," she said.
"Fate or coincidence?" he replied dryly.
"Does it matter?"
He smiled slightly. "Not really."
An officer stepped onto a raised platform, his voice amplified by a small spirit array.
"Attention! The first phase of the entrance trials will now begin. This segment consists of three core evaluations: striking force, agility response, and physical endurance."
He gestured behind him, where three massive devices stood in place—each pulsing faintly with array energy.
"The results will determine your base physical aptitude score. Numbers will be called in sets of twenty. Wait for your group. Do not interfere with other candidates. Do not challenge the staff. And no spiritual arts are to be used unless explicitly instructed."
As candidates moved to their staging zones, the air grew tighter.
Lin Hao kept a calm face, but he could feel the eyes on him.
"Number 427… isn't that the Yuan girl's fiancé?"
He heard it clearly from the cluster just ahead. Three boys stood together, each wearing combat robes embroidered with silver threads—high-quality fabric bearing the crests of major families.
One of them stepped forward. He was tall, with a lean build and narrow eyes. A red tattoo wrapped around his wrist like a coiled dragon. Zhou Tian, eldest son of the Zhou Clan—rivals of the Yuan for nearly a generation.
"So this is the boy that stole the prize," Zhou Tian said, voice smooth but laced with scorn. "Tell me, Lin Hao. Did you drug her or bribe her?"
Lin Hao didn't reply. He was used to this. Calm was always the better blade.
The second boy stepped up—shorter, with heavier arms and a deep scar across his jaw. Wei Lian, of the Iron Thorn Sect.
"You know," he said, cracking his knuckles, "we expected to lose to a monster. Not a no-name nobody. You must be really good at hiding behind her."
Still no reaction.
Then came the third—Shen Ruo, a young heir of the Emerald Blade Hall. He simply stared, silent, then glanced at Qingyue, his lips twitching with something between disdain and longing.
"She always did aim too low," Shen muttered.
Qingyue, standing beside Lin Hao, turned toward them. Her expression didn't change. But her eyes narrowed.
"If you're trying to provoke him," she said, "try harder. You sound like jealous schoolboys."
The three shifted uncomfortably.
"You'll have plenty of chances to prove your worth," Lin Hao added. "Unless you're worried the tests might favor the weak."
Just then, a voice rang out across the field.
"Group Nineteen! Numbers 420 through 439—proceed to physical measurement zone!"
Lin Hao and Qingyue turned without another word. The three nobles watched them go, silent but simmering.
—
The measurement zone was wide and divided into three sections.
First Station: Force Evaluation
One by one, candidates stood before a large metal slab embedded with spiritual nodes. It measured kinetic impact, force density, and structural intent.
Wei Lian stepped forward first, letting out a grunt as he slammed his fist into the slab. A bright red number flared: 912.
He turned with a smug grin.
Zhou Tian stepped up next. His punch was sharper, faster—precision laced with intent.
944.
Shen Ruo didn't show off. He struck like slicing water—clean and efficient.
926.
Then came Lin Hao.
He stood calmly, adjusted his footing, and exhaled. His fist didn't move fast—it moved correctly. Every muscle coordinated, every tendon aligned.
The moment it landed—
985.
A hush spread.
Qingyue followed after him. Her punch landed with fierce grace.
991.
Somewhere, someone whispered: "Monsters…"
—
Second Station: Agility Response
This one tested reflexes. Dozens of spirit-forged orbs shot from all directions at random intervals. The task was to avoid as many as possible within fifteen seconds.
The elite clan heirs moved with speed, twisting and dodging. But a few grazes clipped their sleeves.
Lin Hao's turn came. The moment the first orb launched, his body moved—not with practiced rhythm, but intuitive instinct. He ducked low, weaved through the second volley, pivoted, and turned the final two into nothing but air.
Zero hits.
Qingyue mirrored his results.
The judge narrowed his eyes, clearly surprised. "Both… perfect evasion."
—
Third Station: Physical Endurance
A long dash over weighted terrain, followed by a climb up a spiritual pressure incline. Candidates were evaluated on time and stability.
Here, even some top names stumbled. But Lin Hao and Qingyue—coordinated through years of training—moved like wind over stone. Their pace never faltered.
By the end of phase one, whispers turned to recognition. The crowd no longer murmured in doubt, but in growing awareness.
"Those two… they're different."
And still, Lin Hao hadn't shown anything beyond his physical strength.