"Jiang seems confident," Chief Instructor Wu Tong said with a smile, eyes still on Luo Feng. Almost everyone in the room watched, waiting for his result.
Luo Feng stood before the punch target, feet bracing sharply. His hips rotated, exploding with power that surged through his spine and into his arm. His fist shot forward like an arrow from a taut bow, leaving a faint afterimage. Thud! The impact echoed.
He glanced at the display: 1,101 kg. A surge of pride hit him.
"Nice!" "Solid!" Several warriors praised him immediately.
Wu Tong stroked his chin, nodding. "Good form—he didn't lose balance. Some candidates sacrifice stability for power, but that's suicide in a monster fight. Smart kid."
"Kid's a beast in combat," Jiang Nian chimed in. "He's taken down three senior trainees stronger than him, no sweat."
Luo Feng glowed with pride. Ever since his childhood collapses boosted his strength, he'd trained tirelessly—self-taught sword and movement techniques from online tutorials. His 实战经验 (combat experience) was hard-earned.
"Promising. Pass," Wu Tong said, swiping the next ID. "Bai Yang."
Luo Feng rejoined the group. "Not bad, Lunatic," Yang Wu whispered, impressed.
××××××
After the punch test, only seven remained for speed—one candidate failed with 892 kg.
"Next: speed test. Reverse order—Yang Wu first," Wu Tong ordered.
Yang Wu took a shaky breath. This was his tenth attempt.
"Go for it, Brother Yang," Luo Feng murmured, clapping his shoulder.
Yang Wu surged forward, legs pounding, arms pumping. His face contorted with effort, veins bulging as he sprinted through the speed sensor. He finished with a ragged gasp, eyes glued to the display: 25.1 m/s.
"Close call!" Jiang Nian laughed. Yang Wu grinned, relief flooding him.
One by one, candidates tested. Luo Feng was second-to-last.
"Luofeng," Wu Tong called.
"Don't let us down, Lunatic—we're hitting the combat test together," Yang Wu urged.
Luo Feng stepped onto the track, relaxed compared to Yang Wu's tension. Whoosh! He exploded forward like a leopard, wind rushing past. His speed visibly outpaced the others'.
The display read: 28.6 m/s.
"Exceptional. Well above the cutoff," Wu Tong said. "Last one, Tang Guan."
××××××
After punch and speed tests, five remained for the final challenge: the neural reflex test.
"Follow me," Wu Tong said, leading them to a 100-square-meter chamber. At its center stood a massive machine with dozens of barrel-like openings, resembling a Gattling gun on steroids.
"Tang Guan first."
The bearded man stepped into a 3.6m-diameter red circle. A misty red light shot up from the circle's edge, enclosing him.
"Rule one: stay in the circle. Touch the red light, you lose points," Wu Tong warned, adjusting the machine's settings.
"Start."
The barrels spun, unleashing a storm of rubber projectiles—some fast, some slow, all wildly erratic. Tang Guan darted left and right, but thwack! thwack! Two hits in quick succession.
By the 60-second mark, he'd been struck 57 times and touched the red light three times. "Failed. Next, Luo Feng."
Luo Feng fist-bumped Yang Wu and entered the circle. Before the gaokao, I averaged 50–55 hits in 60 seconds. Now I'm faster.
The machine roared to life, barrels spinning into a blur. Red projectiles surged toward him.
Luo Feng moved like a cat, weaving through the storm. His feet shifted silently, balance perfect, changing direction in an instant. The warriors watched, impressed.
"His footwork's like a cat's—ten years of grind to get that foundation," one murmured.
Whirrr. The machine halted. The screen lit up: 28 hits. No red light violations. Excellent!
"Congratulations, Luo Feng. Once your files are processed, you'll be registered as a Provisional Warrior," Wu Tong said.
Luo Feng clenched his fist. Finally.
"Combat assessment on August 1st," Jiang Nian added. "Meet here at dawn. We'll lead you and other provisionals to hunt monsters outside the city. Pass that, and you're a full warrior."