Chapter Thirty-One: The Final Task

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The gathered youths had only just embarked on the path of cultivation. They knew little about real combat and believed that persistent training alone would make them ever stronger. But now, it was becoming clear that this was far from the truth.

“Understood!” they all responded in unison, inwardly marveling at how much they had learned this day—lessons that would prove crucial to their future journeys.

Xiao Yue nodded in satisfaction. “You’re all still so young, with a long road ahead. In time, you’ll gain deeper insights. Remember: true strength is forged through the trials of life and death.”

Chu Feng wore a solemn expression, silently etching Xiao Yue’s words into his heart.

Without delay, Xiao Yue instructed everyone to get into position. The run itself wasn’t long—just a single, all-out lap around the training field. The first ten to finish would be ranked as the top ten.

Though this appeared to be a test of speed, it was really a challenge of explosive leg strength.

A hundred people crowded onto the track, but it was wide enough not to feel cramped.

Everyone was eager, excitement flashing in their eyes.

“Haha, I wonder who’ll take first place this time. Things are getting interesting.”

“I think Chu Feng might take first—he’s just too strong.”

“That’s possible, but didn’t the instructor mention this is about explosive power? Zhou Xing, Luo Peng, and Ye Rong all have a shot too.”

Meanwhile, Zhou Xing’s face was dark as he glanced at Chu Feng nearby, thinking, “He’s only strong because he probably got lucky and took some kind of physical enhancement elixir. I’m sure my explosive power can make up for the gap in strength.”

What Zhou Xing didn’t know was that, in terms of raw power, he was already far behind Chu Feng. Moreover, Chu Feng had undergone grueling physical training, and his explosive strength was nothing short of astonishing.

“Ready.” At this moment, Xiao Yue called out. The area instantly fell silent. Aside from Chu Feng, everyone else activated their spiritual energy and poised themselves to burst forward.

“Begin!” Xiao Yue commanded.

Everyone surged forward at once. Suddenly, those near Chu Feng heard a thunderous sound, the ground trembling slightly, and felt a gust of wind rush past.

In the next instant, many were left gaping in disbelief. They had barely taken a few steps, yet someone was already dozens of yards ahead.

The speed was simply unbelievable—a blur that seemed almost illusory, to the point that they could no longer make out his features, though the tall, upright figure was soon recognized.

“It’s Chu Feng!”

“My god, what kind of monster is he?”

“That speed—it’s terrifying!”

Though their legs didn’t slow, their mouths erupted with exclamations, and their faces were filled with unconcealed shock.

“How can this be?!” Zhou Xing raged inwardly. Chu Feng’s speed was simply overwhelming—far beyond what he could hope to match. Even Luo Peng was several yards ahead of him, something he found utterly incomprehensible.

Many had predicted that Chu Feng would take first in this test, but none had imagined his speed would be so monstrous.

By the time the others had completed less than a ninth of the course, Chu Feng had already finished his lap.

He arrived at Xiao Yue’s side, and even Xiao Yue himself was momentarily stunned. Though his expression remained composed, inwardly he was deeply shocked; Chu Feng’s progress had far exceeded his expectations.

With the test concluded, Chu Feng naturally claimed first place again. This time, Luo Peng took second, Zhou Xing third, and Ye Rong remained fourth.

Strength alone did not guarantee victory in battle. There were too many variables—such as speed. If an opponent moved too quickly to be hit, no matter how powerful the attack, it would be useless.

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With the results of Zhou Xing and Luo Peng before them, everyone’s understanding of that lesson deepened.

Next, under Xiao Yue’s direction, the group moved on to the bow-drawing test.

This trial measured explosive arm strength. Xiao Yue brought out nine longbows, ranging from one to nine stone in draw weight.

One stone equaled a hundred and twenty pounds.

As for the outcome, there was no longer any doubt among the group—Chu Feng was simply too formidable.

He drew the nine-stone bow with ease, still left with plenty of strength in reserve.

The results were again surprising: Zhou Xing, who had managed to lift over six hundred pounds earlier, could only draw the five-stone bow, tying Ye Rong for third place. Luo Peng drew the six-stone bow and placed second.

Zhou Xing had once been regarded as the top of Squad Nine, but now it seemed that, overall, he’d be lucky to even secure second place.

“It seems my previous understanding was truly flawed. Comprehensive ability is the real key to victory.”

“Who’d have thought Luo Peng was so strong? If it came down to a real fight, Zhou Xing might not be his match after all.”

“And Ye Rong’s arm strength is impressive too, managing to draw the five-stone bow.”

Murmurs rippled among the crowd, further darkening Zhou Xing’s expression.

After the bow test, Xiao Yue announced, “The final event: swordplay.”

“Did I hear that right?” Chu Feng was taken aback. He hadn’t expected the last event to be swordsmanship. Though he was familiar with the sword, among cultivators, this discipline was least valued within the Spirit Battle Pavilion.

At the same time, complaints began to rise from the group.

“Seriously? We have to do swordplay? I’ve never even practiced before!”

“What’s the point of learning such an obsolete skill?”

“Ugh, I didn’t even glance at the sword area last time—now I’m doomed.”

Of course, some seemed delighted at the misfortune of others.

“Heh, swordplay? I happened to learn a few moves from an intermediate sword manual out of boredom—never thought I’d get to use them today.”

“Intermediate? That’s nothing. I studied the advanced ‘Fourteen Fatal Blades’—now that’s a real technique.”

“I trained for a year under a sword master once—my swordplay is anything but ordinary.”

Just then, a smug smile appeared on Zhou Xing’s face. “Swordplay, of all things! Chu Feng, this time I’ll show you what I’m made of.”

He had plenty of reason for confidence. The advanced sword manual, “The Seventy-Three Demon-Repelling Strikes,” was a Zhou family heirloom, created by his ancestor Zhou Cheng.

Zhou Cheng, born thousands of years ago, though not the most powerful cultivator, was a true swordmaster. His “Seventy-Three Demon-Repelling Strikes” was a masterpiece, a classic among human sword arts.

Though swordsmanship was undervalued among cultivators, the Zhou family had always prized this legacy. Zhou Xing had trained since childhood and had long since mastered every nuance of the seventy-three strikes.

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At this moment, Zhou Xing approached Chu Feng, wearing a false smile. “I’ve heard you’ve been so obsessed with swordsmanship lately that you’ve hardly slept. You must be a true sword expert by now. I, too, have some experience and hope you’ll instruct me today.”

Chu Feng smiled lightly. “You flatter me, Brother Zhou. I’ve only practiced swordplay for a month—hardly worthy of instructing anyone. If anything, I’m hoping to learn from you.”

“You’re too modest, Brother Chu,” Zhou Xing replied, though inwardly he scoffed, “I just hope you last long enough for me to teach you a lesson.”

Xiao Yue quickly split the hundred into two groups and distributed wooden swords to everyone. It was single elimination: the loser dropped out, the winner advanced.

After the first round, only fifty remained. Another round halved the number to twenty-five.

The twenty-five were divided into five groups, each fighting in pairs. The winner of each group would advance to the championship round for the top five, while the runner-up would compete for places five through ten.

The matches began swiftly, with everyone drawing their wooden swords.

With a single strike, Zhou Xing dispatched his opponent. Glancing back, he frowned as he saw Chu Feng’s own match was already over—he, too, had won with a single stroke.

“His swordplay is remarkable. What nonsense—claiming to have practiced only a month. No one could achieve that level without ten years of training. But once I unveil my Seventy-Three Demon-Repelling Strikes, he won’t stand a chance,” Zhou Xing thought.

Elsewhere, Luo Peng also defeated his opponent with just one move.

From the rear, Chu Feng observed both Luo Peng and Zhou Xing. Both employed basic sword techniques, but their execution was truly masterful. This surprised Chu Feng—he hadn’t expected two such sword experts to be hiding within Squad Nine.

On the sidelines, Xiao Yue watched with a constant smile, though he, too, was surprised. “So there are two more capable swordsmen hidden in Squad Nine. Zhou Xing—could he be a descendant of Zhou Cheng? And Luo Peng, perhaps a descendant of Luo Tian.”

Xiao Yue understood that few shared Chu Feng’s passion for swordsmanship; only heirs of sword families would dedicate themselves to passing down their ancestral arts.

The first round ended quickly. Fifty watched while the other fifty continued. Soon, all eyes were drawn to Chu Feng, Luo Peng, and Zhou Xing, for each dispatched their second opponent with a single stroke.

The twenty-five remaining were split into five groups. Xiao Yue deliberately separated the three to avoid them meeting too soon.

The remaining contestants were all decent swordsmen, but anyone facing Chu Feng, Luo Peng, or Zhou Xing was defeated in a single move.

“These three are incredible! Each one defeats their opponent with just one strike.”

“Their swords are so fast—this is a fight on a whole other level.”

Xiao Yue watched quietly, thinking, “These two are quite good; only Chu Feng can force them to reveal their family’s secret arts. But to make Chu Feng use advanced sword techniques—that’s unlikely.”

Xiao Yue’s own swordsmanship was formidable; with a single exchange, he could gauge another’s skill.

In his estimation, Luo Peng and Zhou Xing were both outstanding—on par with himself—but Chu Feng’s mastery was in another realm altogether, so high it was almost beyond belief.

The outcome was already clear: all three advanced. The other two, seeing how formidable they were, conceded after deciding fourth and fifth places, withdrawing from the competition.

In the end, only Chu Feng, Luo Peng, and Zhou Xing remained. As their final duels approached, the anticipation among the onlookers soared.

“Heavens, all three are swordmasters—but who among them is the strongest?” someone couldn’t help but wonder aloud.