086 Test

A glimmer flashed in the old man's eyes, then vanished as he closed his eyelids once more. His dry, raspy voice spoke again, "He is not yet a member of the Association. Take him to handle the membership procedures first."

"Yes, Ninth Great-Uncle." Chen Wen bowed respectfully again, leading Zhong Yun and Tian Hai out of the room, then gently closing the door behind them.

"That old man has a terrifying presence," Tian Hai exhaled deeply the moment the door shut, a look of relief washing over him.

"Presence?" Zhong Yun was puzzled. He hadn't felt any imposing aura at all, only that the old man's eyes were so bright they startled him—like two sixty-watt bulbs.

Chen Wen, accustomed to such scenes, merely smiled. "Ninth Great-Uncle dislikes noisy people."

"Your Ninth Great-Uncle seems pretty formidable," Tian Hai wiped the cold sweat from his brow, curiosity sparking in his voice. The suffocating sense of a mountain pressing down on him lingered in his memory, and in his mind, the old man’s image merged with that of a legendary, enigmatic master.

Chen Wen shook his head, evidently unwilling to discuss it further. "Let’s get Zhong Yun registered first."

As they left, Tian Hai’s expression shifted. He suddenly glanced back at the door behind which the old man sat, then followed Zhong Yun, head lowered, seemingly lost in thought.

The registration office was a small room with a sensor on the door, which could only be activated by an ability user. Zhong Yun placed his hand on it, summoned his still-unpracticed energy, and gently released it; the door opened.

A pleasant electronic voice chimed, "Requirements met, please enter." The door opened, and Zhong Yun stepped inside.

"I’ll go look around," Tian Hai, unusually silent, said to Chen Wen, then hurried off.

Chen Wen watched his slightly plump figure depart, frowned, shook his head, and paid him no mind.

After a short while, Zhong Yun emerged from the room. The process had been simple, taking only two and a half minutes. "Hmm? Where’s Tian Hai?" He asked, seeing no sign of him.

"He said he wanted to look around, so he left." Chen Wen replied, pulling Zhong Yun forward. "Let’s not worry about him. We’ve got the test to do."

Chen Wen was exceedingly attentive. He’d always been curious about Zhong Yun’s level of physical technique. With his own seventeen-year-old, fourth-level prowess, he was considered top-tier among his peers. Yet, Chen Wen could never gauge Zhong Yun’s depths, so he’d kept urging him to take the test.

Chen Wen was filled with anticipation—just what kind of surprise could Zhong Yun deliver?

As the two youths walked toward the center of the hall, several nearby eyes turned to them.

At the hall’s center stood a metallic pillar. Zhong Yun initially thought it was a structural support, but Chen Wen explained it was a device for testing one’s physical technique.

When they stopped before the testing pillar, all eyes in the hall converged on them. Someone was attempting to level up? The crowd stirred; low murmurs began.

With society’s development, now in its highly stable phase, those who once dominated resources through physical technique had fallen into awkward circumstances. Their strength no longer held sway—a mech warrior trained for a few years could, piloting a mech, utterly annihilate dozens of masters who had spent decades honing their bodies.

Physical technique users were born for war, and without war, their very foundation for survival was gone. The reality: unless your technique was strong enough to ignore mechs, you either became a law-abiding citizen, or spent your life hunted by Special Forces for crimes.

Physical technique users were human, too. They needed to live, to support wives and children. Yet their only skill was combat, so most were recruited by the military, while the rest became bodyguards for the wealthy, or secret fugitives.

Those born into noble families, like Chen Wen, were exceptions. Their clans supported them, freeing them from livelihood worries. Besides, these families possessed the most advanced training methods, leading to a near monopoly on physical technique.

It wasn’t until the emergence of the Physical Technique Association that the pattern was broken.

The Association’s salary system gave them a new path. Even a first-level practitioner could earn enough to support a family. Salaries were tied to rank: each advancement doubled the pay.

So every practitioner was desperate to advance. Doubling one’s salary with each rank—what an irresistible lure. Every month, countless people attempted to level up.

Now, when technique users met, their greeting was: "Have you leveled up?"

They’d tremble with nervousness when challenging themselves, but when others challenged, they watched for entertainment—friends cheered, acquaintances observed coldly.

"Why does the atmosphere suddenly feel strange?" Zhong Yun muttered, glancing around anxiously.

"It’s nothing. They’re just here to watch. Everyone in this place is like that. Just treat them as air," Chen Wen said, casting furtive glances left and right.

"What do I do now?" Zhong Yun asked, facing the thick metal pillar, unsure how to proceed.

"Stand in front, place your right hand on the smooth area. The computer will prompt you," Chen Wen instructed, stepping back.

Just then, in a corner of the hall, a pair of young man and woman emerged from a door. The man had golden hair and sharply defined features, making him striking. The woman’s long brown hair framed a beautiful face.

Upon seeing Zhong Yun before the testing device, the woman gasped in surprise.

"It’s him?" she exclaimed, astonished.

"You know him?" the young man beside her asked, following her gaze. When he saw Zhong Yun, his handsome face froze. "It’s him?"

The woman turned to her companion, eyes flashing with mischief. Leaning close, she whispered, her breath tickling his ear, "Since he’s here, that stunning beauty must also be in Mingzhou. With your skills, Young Master Huang, this time you’ll surely achieve… your heart’s desire."

The man smiled softly, as if recalling something delightful. He fixed his gaze on Zhong Yun, a strange, inscrutable glint in his eyes. "I warned you—you’d better never let me encounter you again."

Elsewhere, Tian Hai stood before a door, torn between going in or not. He stared at the room, fear flickering in his eyes, as if something terrifying lurked within.

He raised a foot to step forward, hesitated, tried again and again. Finally, gritting his teeth, he decided, Let it be—if death awaits, so be it. He summoned his courage, shut his eyes, and shoved the door open forcefully.

He felt a sudden emptiness ahead, and, having pushed too hard, toppled onto the floor, rolling several times.

"You’ve come." That dry, raspy voice sounded by his ear.

Tian Hai looked up to see Ninth Great-Uncle’s deeply wrinkled face, and those bright eyes so at odds with his aged appearance.

Gulping, Tian Hai swallowed hard.