https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-28-Taoist-Arts-and-Practical-Combat/13686429/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-30-Palm-Power-Duel-and-the-Daoxin-Exam/13686431/
Chapter 29: Practical Exam
Inside the massive training arena, students awaiting the exam stood in line, eyes raised toward the proctor.
The middle-aged warrior before them—his face scarred, radiating an aura of menace—was none other than Lei Jun, their Martial Arts instructor.
Among the five core disciplines of High School Dao, Dao Heart, Martial Energy, and Physical Education formed the foundation. But Martial Arts and Dao Techniques were the practical applications of Daoist cultivation.
As for whether martial arts or Dao techniques were stronger—or more useful—cultivators held differing opinions.
Zhang Yu still remembered Lei Jun’s controversial remarks from the first class.
"Martial arts have real value in this world. Dao techniques are useless."
"Mastering a Dao technique only makes you poorer. The more you practice, the poorer you become—your money all ends up in the hands of the corporations, turning you into a beggar."
"Martial arts cost less, are cheaper to learn, yet they’re effective. Only by training in affordable martial arts can you grow rich. The more you train, the wealthier you get."
That was Lei Jun’s philosophy.
And as today’s invigilator, he remained entirely free of any Daoist abilities.
His approach to the Monthly Exam had always been simple: students whose previous Monthly Exam scores were close to each other were randomly paired through a draw for one-on-one combat.
Each match consisted of three rounds, each lasting exactly three minutes. A round ended if one fighter was knocked down or forced out of bounds.
After all three rounds, the teachers evaluated each student based on their performance.
It was similar to the actual Gaokao martial arts exam—except in the real Gaokao, students fought against Huangjin Warriors, not each other.
But this was only a Monthly Exam. There was no need for such extravagance, especially since hiring Huangjin Warriors would cost the school a fortune.
As Lei Jun finished explaining the rules, the overhead screen flickered to life, displaying names one by one as the draw began.
Once the results were finalized, each student’s phone buzzed with a notification, directing them to their assigned combat zone.
The entire training hall had been divided by white lines into individual square arenas—each roughly ten square meters, serving as a combat ring.
Zhang Yu followed his draw and entered the 12th square, where He Dayou was already waiting.
Seeing He Dayou give him a polite nod, Zhang Yu returned the gesture.
"Finally," He Dayou muttered, suppressing his inner rage as he stepped into the ring.
To have a legitimate reason to humiliate Zhang Yu, He Dayou had used his privilege as the son of a school board member, deliberately drawing Zhang Yu—last month’s 10th-place finisher—as his opponent, despite being ranked 3rd.
Of course, under the draw rules, their scores were close enough to be acceptable—no one would question it.
"But over the past month, aside from Mana Class, Zhang Yu’s progress in other subjects has clearly stalled. His real ranking is probably between 20th and 30th."
On the other hand, He Dayou had maintained a top-three overall score. His San Shou had advanced to Level 2 half a month ago, and he’d recently learned a new martial art at a private tutoring class.
"But I don’t even need the new technique. Level 2 San Shou is more than enough to crush this poor guy."
"The real question is… should I break his hand? Or his leg?"
As he pondered, he and Zhang Yu stood face to face in the center of the ring, separated by a meter.
He Dayou’s gaze swept over Zhang Yu, analyzing potential openings for a devastating strike.
Outside the ring, an assistant teacher pulled out his phone to record the match.
After the exam, Lei Jun and the other first-year Martial Arts instructors would review all the recorded footage and assign scores.
"Are both of you ready?"
Zhang Yu and He Dayou nodded in unison.
"Then, the first round of the match—Model Class: Zhang Yu versus He Dayou!"
"3… 2… 1… Begin!"
As the assistant called out, He Dayou struck instantly.
His right arm blurred into a streak nearly invisible to the naked eye, a palm strike aimed straight at Zhang Yu’s neck.
At the same time, He Dayou already anticipated Zhang Yu’s possible counter—having trained against every possible response countless times.
After all, as a rich kid, he had the time and money to train daily with professional sparring partners.
He had already mastered the reactions, the patterns, the flaws.
That was the power of real combat experience.
With Level 2 San Shou and years of practice, He Dayou had absolute confidence in victory.
"So… let’s break his hand."
He channeled his Martial Energy into his palm—
CRACK!
A thunderous impact erupted from He Dayou’s abdomen.
His vision spun violently. The hard ground slammed into his back. Pain surged through every muscle.
It took several seconds before he could gather his senses.
He was lying on the ground—knocked clean out of the ring by Zhang Yu.
"I was… defeated in one move?" He Dayou’s face flushed crimson. "Impossible!"
Seeing his shock, the assistant teacher, wanting to avoid complications, immediately played back the recorded footage in front of both fighters.
On screen, He Dayou’s palm shot forward—then, in a split second, Zhang Yu ducked beneath the strike and lunged forward, slamming into He Dayou’s body and throwing him out of bounds.
The entire sequence lasted less than a second—so fast it looked like He Dayou had deliberately walked into the throw.
Watching it, He Dayou felt a surge of fury.
"I didn’t even go all out! I haven’t even used my new technique! Just a single slip—"
"I underestimated Zhang Yu. I let my mind wander during the fight…"
The realization burned in him.
But he knew—no matter how careless he’d been, no matter how much he wanted to justify it—there was no point in making excuses now. Only humiliation would follow.
He took a deep breath, then nodded at Zhang Yu.
"Good fight. Let’s continue."
The assistant checked He Dayou’s physical condition. After confirming he was fine, he signaled for the two to re-enter the ring.
They stood apart once more, a meter apart.
Zhang Yu smiled at He Dayou, silently thinking: "My practical exam score should be really high this time."
Level 3 San Shou had performed even better than expected.
Though Zhang Yu suspected his combat experience still lagged behind He Dayou’s—being a rich kid with professional trainers—his mastery of the 15 San Shou techniques at Level 3 gave him an edge.
As soon as He Dayou moved, Zhang Yu already knew what he’d do. He saw the opening, the flaw in the technique—before the motion even completed.
And before thought could form, his body reacted.
He surged forward, Martial Energy flooding his arms, and drove He Dayou backward, out of bounds.
"In first-year San Shou battles, anyone below Level 3 will always react a beat too slow."
"Add in my current Physical Strength Level—this school’s entire first-year San Shou scene… I probably won’t lose."
Meanwhile, He Dayou’s expression had hardened. No longer relaxed, no longer smug.
This time, he would focus entirely—throw everything into defeating Zhang Yu.
No second chances. No mistakes.
"Zhang Yu versus He Dayou—Round Two!"
"3… 2… 1… Begin!"
As the assistant spoke, He Dayou exploded forward.
His right fist, charged with surging Martial Energy, shot toward Zhang Yu’s face.
BOOM!
Another thunderous impact.
The same dizzying sensation. The same hard, cold ground. The same wave of pain.
He Dayou staggered to his feet, dazed.
Again? He was defeated—again—before he could even react.
The video replay showed it clearly.
As He Dayou threw his punch, Zhang Yu had already kicked him in the chest, sending him flying.
Their movements were so fast that it looked like He Dayou had run headfirst into Zhang Yu’s foot.
Round Three.
This time, He Dayou didn’t rush in.
He adopted a defensive stance, cautious, watching Zhang Yu closely.
Zhang Yu thought: "After being hit twice in a row, he’s finally being careful?"
The reason he’d won the first two rounds was simple.
At the moment He Dayou struck, Zhang Yu used his deep familiarity with San Shou to predict his movement and trajectory—then, at the exact moment the attack was most vulnerable, he charged straight into it.
By combining speed and anticipation, he’d overwhelmed He Dayou before he could react.
But now that He Dayou was holding back, refusing to attack first, Zhang Yu couldn’t replicate that strategy.
Still, he had a plan.
Regardless of Martial Energy or Physical Strength, Zhang Yu’s current power had surged dramatically.
He was confident he was now on par with He Dayou, the third-ranked student.
Even in raw physical strength, He Dayou wasn’t a brute—he was balanced, not built for sheer power.
Since He Dayou wouldn’t attack, Zhang Yu would.
He channeled Martial Energy into his palm and struck toward He Dayou’s chest.
"Here it comes!" He Dayou’s eyes flashed.
He countered with a punch—blocking the strike.
Then, Zhang Yu struck again—same palm, same motion.
"Same move? What is this?"
After three such exchanges, He Dayou felt his arms burning, his Martial Energy surging uncontrollably.
Zhang Yu’s Martial Energy was far stronger than he expected. His physical strength—shockingly intense.
And his tactic was simple: meet force with force.
Level 3 San Shou meant Zhang Yu didn’t just know the moves—he could execute them with greater power, greater energy flow.
In a direct clash, he had the upper hand.
He Dayou realized it too—his lips curled into a faint smirk.
"You want to fight me head-on?"
"Then let’s see… who’s the harder one."
He summoned his newly learned technique—Xiao Tianxing Palm.
From his dantian, Martial Energy surged into his palm, transforming into a chilling, dark force that shot toward Zhang Yu.
(End of Chapter)
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