Chapter 47: Warrior!

“Who exactly is the Serpent King?” Fang Qingyun couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah!” Zhao Junhong chimed in, “Just who is this big shot who’s decided to claim both of us for himself, without even naming a price? Is he taking us for free?”

Old Li let out a cold laugh. “Forget the two of you—for example, your grandfather, the Lord of Goat City, that old fellow over seventy. If the Serpent King gave him an order, he’d have to strip off his noble garb, put on a school uniform, and head to the Northwest Military Academy, singing the school anthem as he went.”

Zhao Junhong shuddered. “That’s quite the image.”

Fang Qingyun’s confusion only deepened. Such a figure, coming for them specifically? Or just passing through?

Principal Sun sighed helplessly. “You don’t need to wonder. He actually does have some connection to you.”

“My father…?”

“No, your mother!” Principal Sun explained. “He was your mother’s teacher, and she was a student he valued highly. In that sense, you’re quite closely connected.”

Fang Qingyun was stunned.

“But…”

“I’m always wary when someone says ‘but!’” Fang Qingyun rubbed his brow with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me it’s another cliché? Like, the Serpent King raised my mother as his daughter, then my father took advantage, the Serpent King opposed their union, and my mother broke with him for my father’s sake.”

Old Li chuckled. “Not a bad imagination, but I wouldn’t know. Only a handful of people know what happened between your mother and the Serpent King. All we know is that your mother suddenly arrived in Blossom City, and ten years later, she died in battle here.”

Fang Qingyun sighed. “So, all the clichéd stories, you won’t even tell me—I have to make them up myself? Are you testing my creativity?”

“That’s enough, let’s go.” Old Li patted Fang Qingyun’s shoulder. “Cliché or novel, when it comes to the Serpent King, we can’t resist. All we can do is grow stronger ourselves.”

As Principal Sun said, the Serpent King was immensely powerful, with a status second to none in the military. If he gave his word, Fang Qingyun had no other options—he could only attend the Northwest Military Academy.

For someone like the Serpent King, a casual command was law for the entire city of Blossom, no exceptions.

As they walked back to the school, staff from various admissions offices watched them, eyes filled with frustration and resentment. Even the military representative remained silent.

This made Fang Qingyun realize the Serpent King was even more terrifying than he’d imagined. For the first time, he felt the true intimidation of a supreme powerhouse.

The martial academies and even the military had all paid a heavy price, making promise after promise, openly and secretly fighting—even issuing threats—yet in the end, none of it could stand against a single word from the Serpent King.

That bone-chilling sensation, he thought, might haunt him for a lifetime.

Thus, the college entrance exam ended. For martial candidates, there were no such things as grades.

Those who met the standard were placed in one broad category; those who didn’t were placed in another. Some of the latter would enter society, others would go on to research universities.

Among those who passed, they were further divided into three tiers: ordinary, outstanding, and top-tier. These prospective martial artists would receive three levels of treatment once admitted to their respective academies.

From this point on, the gaps between people would only widen. For those who wished to stand out, only relentless effort would suffice.

Fang Qingyun was admitted to the Northwest Military Academy with the highest distinction. He was the undisputed champion of the Greenwood District.

Murong came second.

Zhao Junhong and Wang Henshui shared third place.

Luo Yuxin and the others were also strong—their spiritual power even surpassed Zhao Junhong’s—but, unfortunately, they were eliminated before the third tide shift.

No matter how highly they were regarded, it didn’t change the result. On the battlefield, the dead are simply dead—no talent means anything to a corpse.

They too received top ratings, but they weren’t happy about it.

Zhao Junhong was similarly resigned. Even though he’d always planned to attend the same school as Fang Qingyun, the other party’s “no negotiations” approach was downright overbearing—more so than their own.

This year, nearly two hundred students at First High School met the martial artist standard, breaking all previous records. With Fang Qingyun as the champion and Zhao Junhong as the third-place scholar, Principal Sun’s reputation soared. He solidified his position at the school and gained significant prestige in both Blossom City and the Greenwood District. He even received a custom-made grade-five weapon from Principal Zhang, so delighted he could hardly contain himself.

Old Li narrowly edged out Fat Wang in their bet. With Fang Qingyun and Zhao Junhong under his wing, Old Li also made a name for himself. Looking at these two former mischief-makers, he almost found their faces pleasing.

Fang Qingyun and Zhao Junhong received a mountain of rewards from both the school and Principal Sun personally—many of which money simply couldn’t buy.

It was said there would be further rewards from the city and district, so for the time being, they wouldn’t need to worry about resources.

But their journey was only beginning.

This last trip to the secret realm had laid bare many of their weaknesses—issues they would have to tackle one by one.

…

“If you want to become a martial artist, you first need spiritual power. Then, you need a core cultivation method!” Old Li looked at Zhao Junhong and Fang Qingyun with grave seriousness.

For martial candidates, the end of the entrance exam didn’t mean the end of classes. There were still three months before university registration, and during that time, they had to attend high school classes every day.

Of course, those who passed were more than willing, for they were about to become true martial artists.

Because their numbers weren’t large, the school would usually open a big classroom and have a veteran teacher lecture, with students free to ask questions.

Principal Sun, with a grand gesture, ordered Old Li to give the two of them special, one-on-one instruction—hoping to make them high-level martial artists as quickly as possible.

The other successful candidates were taught by a vice principal.

“Cultivation method?”

“Yes! Cultivation methods refine spiritual power into spiritual energy, the source of your strength. Martial artists use spiritual energy!” Old Li said gravely. “Cultivation methods can be changed, just like jobs—so many martial artists start with a simple method to become martial artists, then look for advanced methods later.”

He held out his hand, revealing a scroll on his palm. “This is the method I practice—Gale Technique, a medium-grade method.”

“Medium-grade?”

“Methods are ranked: low, medium, and high.”

Fang Qingyun and Zhao Junhong eyed the scroll. “Old Li, you want us to practice this?”

Old Li snorted. “What, you’re not satisfied? Listen, initially, the school only gives you a low-grade method. The district’s offer isn’t set yet, but at best you’ll get a medium-grade one. My suggestion: take my method, and swap out the ones from the school and district for other benefits. If you want high-level methods, you’ll have to wait for university—they should have high-grade ones. Until then, save your resources where you can.”

Zhao Junhong shook his head. “No need. My family has its own inherited method.” He glanced at Fang Qingyun, looking hesitant.

Fang Qingyun shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that—I don’t want your family’s method. I have my own.”

“You do…?”

Faced with their surprise, Fang Qingyun replied casually, “My father left behind a few.”

The two of them nodded in understanding. Fang Zhiheng had once been a formidable martial artist himself—leaving behind methods was only natural.