Chapter 4

Before long...

Brandon Hughes, with his broad shoulders and burly build, casually carried a short staff as he reentered the classroom.

His gaze lingered on Parker for a moment longer than usual.

"I will be testing you using the official Martial Cultivation Exam standards."

"Take this seriously. Treat every test as if it were the real exam. That way, when the actual exam comes, it will feel like just another test," Brandon Hughes said in a deep, serious voice, gripping his staff firmly.

"We'll go in reverse order by student number."

"Student 112—Logan Pierce."

"Why are they going in reverse order this time? Is Mr. Hughes targeting me?" Logan Pierce shrank his neck.

He had assumed he'd be the last to take the test, and by then, most of his classmates wouldn't be paying attention, saving him from embarrassment.

But now they were going in reverse? Logan suddenly felt like dying.

"Go on." Parker patted Logan on the shoulder, smiling. "Whether you stick your neck out or shrink back, the blade still falls."

Logan curled his lips. "At least give me time to wash my neck before chopping it off."

Despite his complaints, his body was honest—fearing that Brandon Hughes would reprimand him, Logan quickly grabbed his spear and walked to the center of the classroom.

At the center was a large circular platform made of silver metal, distinctly different from the rest of the classroom's flooring.

The silver platform had a diameter of about twelve meters, resembling an arena at first glance.

Parker, Knox Xavier, and the other hundred or so students instinctively stepped back, staying outside the silver area.

"Authorization initiated," Mr. Hughes suddenly spoke in a deep voice. On his left wrist, a device resembling a smartwatch emitted a faint red glow. "Senior Year Class Two, Martial Skill Assessment, Physical Fitness Test, recording in progress!"

Immediately—

Buzz! Various previously inactive instruments above the classroom lit up with a white glow.

The white light shone down, perfectly enveloping the circular silver platform.

Hiss— One of the machines suddenly projected two beams of red light, which spread out and enveloped both Logan and Mr. Hughes.

No one was surprised by this scene—it was routine.

Within just three seconds—

Flash! The electronic screen at the back of the classroom lit up sharply, displaying two prominent lines of white text—

"Logan Pierce (Student), Physical Fitness: 3.9 (Previous Test: 3.7)"

"Brandon Hughes (Instructor), Physical Fitness: 12.0 (Exceeds Testing Limit)"

———

"Huh? I haven't tested in a while, but I actually improved by 0.2 levels?" Logan felt a hint of satisfaction. "Looks like my hard work these past few months paid off."

"Still not at level 4?" Mr. Hughes frowned slightly.

A physical fitness level of 3.9 wasn't bad on a province-wide scale—among the millions of senior students, it was mid-tier.

But this was Northridge First High, a top-ranked school in the provincial capital. Here, that score was at the bottom.

"Seems like old Logan talks about slacking off, but his body tells another story," Parker chuckled.

At their age, physical fitness tended to improve rapidly. Gaining 0.2 levels in three months meant Logan had been putting in real effort behind the scenes.

At this rate, reaching 4.5 by the Martial Cultivation University Entrance Exam was possible.

"But the school's Life Force Detector is still a bit low-end—it can't accurately measure Mr. Hughes' real fitness level," Parker thought to himself.

Life Force Detectors were extremely common in this era, widely used in schools and martial halls of all levels.

Many households even had one. The technology behind them was quite sophisticated, designed to assess an individual's life force intensity and convert it into a corresponding physical fitness level.

Level 5.0 was the standard for a normal adult.

Level 10.0 was the baseline for an initiate martial cultivator—only at this level was one officially recognized as a martial artist, eligible for state subsidies and various privileges.

The school's Life Force Detector, designed for students, typically had a testing cap of 12.0. While that seemed low-end, it was highly stable and unlikely to break.

For an instrument with such frequent usage, durability was the most important factor.

Of course, the Martial Cultivation University Entrance Exam's physical fitness assessment didn't rely solely on instrument readings—it also included dedicated tests for speed, punching force, and other aspects, culminating in a comprehensive score.

"The test will be scored according to the university entrance exam standards. I will only use the strength and speed of a Level 5.0, and I expect you to perform at a 300-point level under the grading system," Mr. Hughes announced.

Martial Skill Assessment had a total of 400 points, and scoring 300 in this section was the bare minimum for getting into Martial Cultivation University.

Ten meters away, Logan was already sweating.

Level 5.0?

That meant Mr. Hughes' speed and strength would still far surpass his own.

"What are you waiting for? Attack!" Mr. Hughes ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

Logan gripped his spear in a neutral stance, suddenly lunging forward. His speed erupted explosively—crossing ten meters in an instant—his two-meter-long spear weaving through the air as he thrust directly at Mr. Hughes.

Spearmanship was all about the thrust.

Although Logan's fitness level wasn't high, his punching force exceeded 150 kilograms.

Moreover, he had been practicing the spear for two years. While his talent was average and he wasn't particularly diligent, his fundamentals were solid.

At the very least, that thrust was quite decent.

This was precisely why students were required to wear full-body protective gear during the test.

In close-quarters combat with cold weapons, even if the blades were blunt, a lack of protection could still lead to serious injury or worse.

Whoosh!

Brandon Hughes, tall and broad-shouldered, was not wearing any protective gear. Yet, with what seemed like a casual step to the left—neither hurried nor slow—he effortlessly dodged Logan Pierce's fierce thrust.

The tip of the spear brushed past him, missing by what looked like mere millimeters.

At a glance, it appeared dangerously close.

"This footwork?" Parker's eyes lit up from the sidelines. He had noticed the brilliance behind Brandon Hughes' movement.

Not a fraction too much, not a fraction too little.

It maximized energy conservation.

This was absolute control over one's body, combined with an impeccable prediction of the opponent's attack—leaving no room for error.

"He dodged it?" Logan Pierce wasted no time in retracting his spear, swiftly twisting the tip and sending another flurry of spear strikes toward Brandon Hughes.

Yet, Brandon simply took a single step back and narrowly avoided it once again.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Logan Pierce swung his spear with all his might—thrusting, slashing, sweeping. But against Brandon Hughes' exquisite footwork, every strike missed.

"Just a little more… just a little more," Logan gritted his teeth.

"It's not 'just a little more'—it's far too much," Parker sighed inwardly.

He could see it clearly—it wasn't that Logan's spear techniques were lacking, but that Brandon's footwork was simply too refined.

Despite moving at an unhurried pace, his positioning was terrifyingly precise—anticipating every trajectory of Logan's spear.

And after more than ten consecutive strikes, exhaustion was already setting in for Logan. His arm grew weary, and his attacks slowed.