Paler?

Xiangzi was taken aback. There was no mirror in the bathhouse, so he hadn’t noticed.

He laughed it off, tossing out some casual chatter to brush past the topic.

The three walked out together, but at the entrance, they ran into Xu Xiaoliu, dressed as a servant.

Beside the dark-faced youth stood a pale, slight boy, also in servant clothes—a stark black-and-white contrast.

Xu Xiaoliu was rushing to the back courtyard kitchen, carrying a towering stack of food trays.

“Little Liu, what’re you doing here with all that?” Jiang Wangshui asked, surprised.

Xu Xiaoliu peeked from behind the trays, grinning when he saw his dorm mates. “Apprentice life’s expensive. On free days, I pick up odd jobs to earn a few coins for the family. Otherwise, how’d we manage?”

His words were open, without a hint of shame.

Jiang Wangshui stared, wanting to say something but swallowing it back.

“Brother Xiang, Brother Chen, just finished eating? Next time you hit the back courtyard, go for elk beast meat, not tiger meat…”

Lowering his voice, he added, “Tiger meat sounds fancy, but it’s often yesterday’s leftovers. The cheap beast meat is fresher—don’t get fooled!”

A burly middle-aged man poked out from the kitchen, bellowing, “Xu Xiaoliu! Keep dawdling, and I’ll dock your pay!”

“Gotta go!” Xu Xiaoliu called, grabbing his companion. “Little Qi, let’s move!”

Hugging the half-man-high stack of trays, he still had energy to call his friend, dashing into the courtyard.

The swaying trays made Jiang Wangshui and the others tense. Only Xu Xiaoliu, with his robust blood energy and nimble hands, could handle such a load. The kitchen manager had lucked out with this honest worker.

“Ha, Xu Xiaoliu’s something else. Finally an apprentice at the martial hall, yet he’s slaving away at odd jobs. Wasting his martial path for peanuts—what a fool,” Chen Jia said, shaking his head.

Jiang Wangshui frowned, sensing something off but unable to pinpoint it.

Xiangzi, hands tucked in his sleeves, said nothing, strolling slowly toward the dorms.

—

He finally slept soundly.

Though it was still a communal bunk like at Harmony Rickshaw Yard, the absence of sweaty stench and foot odor made it comfortable enough.

Simple, monotonous days passed quickly.

A week flew by.

Today’s lesson was still the “Three Skin-Grinding Tensions” for hands, feet, and waist.

Unlike before, many apprentices now performed competently, clearly having crossed the threshold. Zhao Mu, hands behind his back, recited pointers, his usually stern face showing rare satisfaction.

When his gaze landed on the towering figure in the group, his smile grew—over these few days, he’d watched this lad go from stiff to increasingly fluid.

Who’d have thought this brute-strength giant would be a late bloomer?

After ten sets of Three Skin-Grinding Tensions, came the usual ash-sprinkling phase.

With days of experience, the apprentices were far less frantic than the first day, many lasting a full hour.

Naturally, Xiangzi was the last standing.

Sadly, there was no Skin-Tempering Powder reward this time, leaving him disappointed.

“Alright… you’ve all done decently,” Zhao Mu said slowly. “Take a break. This afternoon, everyone heads to Training Room Two. No need for me to say it—you know what today is.”

The words stirred unease among the apprentices.

Today was the skin membrane test!

Xiangzi’s heart leapt. Finally!

No mistakes this time.

A-grade, locked in!

—

The crowd gathered in the familiar Training Room Two.

Last week’s blood energy test rankings still hung on the wall. In the vast courtyard, only a few had earned A-grade, with B-grade not much more common.

Most were marked in glaring red: C-grade.

Martial hall rules stated that only those with three A-grades across the three tests could enter the first-class courtyard. One A-grade qualified for the second-class courtyard.

Without a single A-grade, you’d stay in the third-class courtyard—meaning the silver spent on the apprentice slot was wasted.

For wealthy apprentices, this was no big deal.

But for commoners who’d scraped together a lifetime’s savings for this chance, failure meant no comeback. At best, they’d end up as guards for a wealthy household, forever stuck below ninth rank.

A single rank’s difference is a chasm.

Amid the gloom, Xiangzi seemed unfazed, even studying the wall’s rankings.

Suddenly, someone bumped into him.

Turning, he saw a thin, pale youth.

“Sorry, big brother, sorry!” The youth, seemingly nearsighted, clutched a number tag, looking timid, likely late.

Before Xiangzi could speak, a dark-faced youth strode over, clasping his fists. “Brother Xiang, this is my new friend, Lu Qi. He bumped into you—I’ll apologize on his behalf.”

“No big deal,” Xiangzi said with a smile, his gaze landing on Lu Qi.

Wasn’t this the kid with Xu Xiaoliu at the kitchen yesterday?

He’d thought Lu Qi was just a servant, not an apprentice who’d passed the Blood Energy Barrier.

Sensing Xiangzi’s thoughts, Xu Xiaoliu waited until Lu Qi moved ahead, then whispered an explanation.

Lu Qi had decent talent but, like Xu Xiaoliu, came from an ordinary East City family. Unlike Xu Xiaoliu, who’d lucked into a generous patron in Xu Bin, Lu Qi’s apprentice slot had drained his family’s life savings. His father, a bookkeeper, had even borrowed from Deyilou’s usurious “Yama Ledger” loans, notorious for bleeding people dry.

Xiangzi sighed—Lu Qi was just like Old Ma’s grandson.

Wonder if Old Ma’s kid can withstand the bone-tempering broth and become a ninth-rank martial artist.

—

The apprentices lined up neatly, awaiting the courtyard assessment.

Unexpectedly, as the gates opened, a hunched old martial artist stepped out.

“Everyone, today’s skin membrane test is the final apprentice assessment!”

The words stunned the crowd.

Final assessment?

No bone and muscle test?

By tradition, the bone and muscle test was the cornerstone of the three blood energy tests, as enduring the bone-tempering broth required not just blood energy and skin but strong bones and muscles.

Amid the uproar, the old martial artist seemed deaf to it, casually adding, “As of today, anyone with two A-grades will advance to first-class apprentice!”

The crowd erupted, especially those like Chen Jia who’d earned A-grade in the blood energy test, buzzing with excitement.

Xiangzi felt a slight pang of disappointment, but the blood energy test would repeat next week. Another A-grade would still secure first-class status—no harm done.

Yet a doubt gnawed at him.

Canceling the bone and muscle test, crucial for selecting ninth-rank martial artists, suggested something.

Was Baolin Martial Hall’s apprentice selection not aimed at producing ninth-rank martial artists?

If so, what was it for?

A shadow of unease crept into Xiangzi’s heart.