First-class apprentice?

A special promotion?

In an instant, the gazes of the young apprentices converged on Xiangzi.

Some were filled with envy, others with shock, and a few quietly speculated, their thoughts varied.

But most prevalent… was doubt.

Baolin Martial Hall’s rules had always been strict—clear as day, unyielding as iron, with no room for ambiguity.

Since it was established that only a double Grade A could earn entry into the first-class apprentice courtyard, why make an exception for this promotion?

It was utterly unheard of.

Even so, most apprentices forced smiles, offering congratulations from afar with clasped fists.

A few who had exchanged words with Xiangzi before now wore eager grins, approaching him warmly to chat.

No matter the reason, since this big guy had entered the first-class apprentice courtyard, it meant… he had a shot at becoming a ninth-grade martial artist.

The difference of a single grade was like the divide between heaven and earth.

How could these youths, who had trained their blood energy since childhood, not understand this truth?

Moreover, most came from wealthy families, raised with their elders’ constant guidance. Unlike those country bumpkins, they didn’t wear their thoughts on their faces.

For a moment, though each harbored their own schemes, the courtyard maintained an air of camaraderie.

Xiangzi, naturally, responded with smiles, returning their courtesies one by one.

But when the chubby Chen Jiashang sidled up with a beaming face, Xiangzi couldn’t help but pause.

“Xiang-ge, congratulations!

I knew from the start you weren’t ordinary. This first-class apprentice title was yours for the taking,” Chen Jiashang said, his face blooming with a sincerity so flawless it was impossible to fault. “Now that we’re both in the first-class courtyard, we’ve got to look out for each other.”

Just moments ago, he’d been calling him “Brother Xiangzi,” but now, in the little fatty’s mouth, it had smoothly become “Xiang-ge.”

Xiangzi’s smile didn’t waver as he replied, “Look out for each other? Of course, we’ll do just that.” But inwardly, he marveled at the fatty’s adaptability.

Regardless of Chen Jiashang’s character, this ability to bend and stretch, to maneuver so effortlessly, was truly rare—something Xiangzi knew he couldn’t match.

And so, he grew a touch more wary of the boy.

—

In the courtyard, Old Liu stretched lazily, his bitter, melon-like face finally relaxing.

Truth be told, he hadn’t worked this hard in years. His old bones were practically creaking apart.

But before he could stand, a voice came from beside him: “Senior Brother Liu, this special promotion seems… improper. If Li Xiang truly has the strength, he could earn a Grade A in next week’s blood energy test and be promoted then.”

The speaker was a refined, scholarly young disciple in his twenties named Chen Hai.

He had already reached the peak of the ninth grade, a notable talent among the outer disciples.

For the past two years, Chen Hai had overseen the apprentice trials, but this year, Old Liu had been abruptly assigned to take his place. Chen Hai had seemed content, never complaining and assisting diligently.

This was the first time he’d openly questioned Old Liu’s decision.

Old Liu’s expression didn’t shift. Instead, he squeezed out a smile. “What’s that, Junior Brother Chen? Worried this old man’s gone senile, making reckless decisions and tarnishing the martial hall’s reputation?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Chen Hai replied.

“Wouldn’t dare? So you only dare to stab me in the back and curse me behind closed doors? If you’ve got complaints, Chen Hai, wait till the old hall master returns from Shen City and take it up with him!”

Old Liu’s words were blunt, sparing no face for this martial artist from a minor branch of the West City Chen family.

Chen Hai’s expression stiffened, but he lowered his head, saying no more, burying his gloom in his eyes.

He had no grounds to argue—after all, this seemingly carefree Old Liu was personally appointed by the old hall master as the chief examiner before his departure.

Even the inner disciples had been stunned by the decision.

No one could fathom why the old hall master had made such a move.

—

Chen Hai’s face darkened. He clasped his fists, muttered, “This junior was rash,” and left the courtyard.

Once Chen Hai was gone, Zhao Mu, who had stayed silent, finally spoke. “Senior Brother Liu, Junior Brother Chen meant well. After all, these are the martial hall’s longstanding rules.”

Old Liu snorted. “Rules? Rules are made by people, not to bind them! Look at the times we’re in. Still clinging to rules?”

“If we botch the big event six months from now, guess who the old hall master will hold accountable when he returns from Shen City?”

“Besides…” Old Liu smirked, leisurely picking up the dossier before him. “What do you think of the quality of our Baolin Martial Hall apprentices these past few years?”

Zhao Mu paused, thought for a moment, and slowly shook his head. “Not as good as before… Even the first-class apprentices who can withstand the Bone-Strengthening Broth are only half as capable as in past years.”

“The decline in apprentice quality is plain for all to see,” Old Liu chuckled. “Now think—who’s been overseeing the apprentice trials these past few years?”

Zhao Mu’s heart sank. It’s been Chen Hai running the trials all this time!

“Well, that wooden head of yours has some sharpness after all,” Old Liu said, crossing his legs casually. “Guess how much our Baolin Martial Hall’s apprentice trial questions fetch on the black market?”

“Two hundred silver dollars! My nephew wanted to join the trials last year, and even I couldn’t bear to buy them for him,” Old Liu said, his weathered face puffing with indignation.

Zhao Mu was stunned, a chill running through him. Selling apprentice trial questions? Could his refined, amiable Senior Brother Chen Hai really be involved in such dealings?

Old Liu seemed to read his thoughts and grinned slowly. “This isn’t something Chen Hai could pull off alone…”

“Think about it. With so many inner disciples, why did the old hall master pick an old miscellaneous courtyard relic like me to oversee these trials?”

“And you, you dim-witted kid—why were you, a disciple with no roots in the martial hall, chosen as the apprentice instructor? Is your ninth-grade peak cultivation really that much better than others?”

Zhao Mu froze as the doubts that had plagued him these days suddenly found answers.

It all boiled down to Old Liu’s three words: no roots.

No prestigious family, no powerful backing—just a pure mud-leg martial artist with no ties to the Chen, Li, or Wan families in the martial hall. Wasn’t that perfect for stirring up this murky water?

In that moment, Zhao Mu felt as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss.

“Our old hall master, always so cheerful and carefree, is sharper than anyone,” Old Liu said, pulling a meat bun from somewhere and taking a satisfied bite. “It’s the matter six months from now that’s got him cornered. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the chance to wade into this mess. But don’t worry—you’re different, Zhao Mu. You’ve got potential in the martial path. Do well, and your future’s bright.”

“With the old hall master’s backing, as long as you follow the martial hall’s protocols for the next six months, no one will dare pick at you.”

Zhao Mu’s expression grew solemn. He bowed deeply to Old Liu. “Thank you, Senior Brother Liu, for your guidance.”

Old Liu chuckled. “Now that we’ve selected the first-class apprentices, focus your efforts on them.”

“These kids have good talent. Though things are rushed, train them well. Don’t let these promising seedlings go to waste.”

Zhao Mu nodded gravely. “I’ll do my utmost to uphold Baolin Martial Hall’s reputation.”

Old Liu said nothing, his dim eyes drifting toward the courtyard’s edge. He knew far more about the old hall master’s trip to Shen City.

Reputation?

The old hall master was nearing seventy. Even with the fifth-grade Pulse Condensation Realm preserving his blood energy and skin-membrane, how many years could his body endure?

If this Shen City trip proved fruitless, what schemes would those scheming in the shadows concoct?

The old hall master’s barely left, and already the vipers in our hall can’t hold back.

Old Liu sighed deeply and stood.

In the twilight’s glow, the old martial artist, who had spent most of his life in Baolin Martial Hall, looked slightly hunched.