The old woman waved her hand, and a maid beside her presented a wooden box. She took out a bronze token cast with the image of a tiger descending a mountain and pressed it into Zhao Xunan's hands, speaking earnestly:
"This token is but a small token of our Si Kong Clan's gratitude for Master Zhao's great kindness. Whoever holds this token and faces hardship may seek aid at any Barren Marsh embassy—no matter the cause, we will lend full support, equal to that of our own princes."
Zhao Xunan's heart stirred at the weight of the token. He tried to decline, but the old woman pressed it back firmly, then added three pearls the size of pigeon eggs.
"These are spirit-calming pearls from the Eastern Sea merfolk. Wearing them clears the mind of distractions and aids cultivation. Please accept them, Master."
Zhao Xunan pushed them away again, but to no avail. He felt a pang of unease—at seventeen, being called "Master" felt almost absurd.
"I have urgent business to attend to and cannot return to Barren Marsh immediately," the old woman said as she prepared to leave. "I'll take that troublemaker with me. Please, Master, teach Xiao Nuo'er well. Help her become a true warrior."
Zhao Xunan readily agreed. After all, he needed Xiao Nuo'er to compete for points—keeping her at the academy was best.
Time flew to the 30th day of the sixth lunar month in the second year of the Kaiyuan era. Martial arts candidates from across the land, each accompanied by a disciple, gathered at the Great Qin Imperial Academy for the ranking draw. In twelve hours, the five academies' mid-term competition would begin.
For this crucial exam—where top performers would be recorded in the Three Ministries' rosters—talented youths jostled for position. A good rank could pave the way to a prestigious career in the bureaucracy.
But when word spread of the "Martial Arts Academy," confusion reigned. The Imperial Academy of Jade Capital had ninety-nine branches; none had heard of this one. Where had it come from?
Upon learning it had only one master, one instructor, and three students, the other academies' students erupted in shock. A "school" on the brink of closure, smaller than a private academy—how could it qualify as an exam venue?
The Li brothers, too dull to navigate such crowds, refused to come. Zhao Xunan had to bring Xiao Nuo'er instead. Having grown up as a royal scion, she found the chaos underwhelming.
The servants, though numerous, were disorganized and loud, treating the future pillars of Great Qin like rowdy children.
"What arrogance!" Xiao Nuo'er huffed, her face flushing. "In Barren Marsh, they'd get twenty lashes for this!"
Her pout made Zhao Xunan smile. He brushed her nose playfully. "Alright, we'll find more students later. Seven or eight classmates—daily fun and games. Does that suit you?"
Xiao Nuo'er beamed, nodding vigorously.
The academy's vast grounds felt eerily empty with only two students. Xiao Nuo'er tugged Zhao Xunan's sleeve. "Master, we need more students. This place is too quiet!"
Zhao Xunan chuckled. More students? I'd rather not—if not for Xiao Nuo'er, there'd be none. Aloud, he soothed, "Soon, soon. We'll find seven or eight, and you'll have playmates every day. Happy now?"
Xiao Nuo'er's face lit up.
Soon, officials from the Ministry of Rites arrived. To Zhao Xunan's delight, it was Zhou Li, the Director of the Civil Selection Bureau and his old examiner from the provincial exams.
Zhao Xunan rose to greet him, but Zhou Li waved him off. "No time for old tales. The event is formal."
A Great Qin instructor led Zhou Li to the Xiyin Formation to announce the competition rules.
Zhao Xunan listened intently. The exam—once just sparring—now included three components: written tests, formation drills, and sparring. Sparring, once the main event, now counted for only a third of the score, ranked last.
The crowd buzzed. Zhou Li smiled. "If sparring alone decided the rankings, we'd just hold a tournament. The Three Marshals and I added the other tests."
His tone turned grave. "The Grand General emphasized: Great Qin doesn't lack brave fools. We need generals who can outthink enemies on the battlefield."
"Sparring is three parts. Strategy—civil and martial—is seven. This is the future of our military."
The crowd fell silent, faces shifting between unease and resolve. The rules had changed drastically, leaving no time to prepare. All relied on fate.
Zhao Xunan smiled faintly. This change suited the Martial Arts Academy perfectly. In fact, it was his own idea.
Half a month prior, during a casual visit, the Grand General had watched Xiao Nuo'er spar the Li brothers. Though impressed by their skill, he'd noted their lack of strategic depth.
"Individual prowess matters less than battlefield acumen," Zhao Xunan had said.
The Grand General had pondered, realizing the army's flaw: brave but undisciplined soldiers lost battles. He'd revised the exam to prioritize strategy—a shift that would strengthen Great Qin's military for generations.
Though disruptive to this year's candidates, the change boded well for the empire's future.
Zhao Xunan taught his students to master both combat and strategy, blending The Six Secret Teachings with history and classics. Civil and martial arts were two sides of the same coin—only together could one achieve greatness.
After announcing the rules, Zhou Li departed. Zhao Xunan bowed politely, planning to visit him later.
The written exam was straightforward—scholars from the Hanlin Academy would grade papers. Sparring, however, required drawing lots.
Thousands of candidates lined up to draw bamboo slips marked with numbers from a large barrel. Adjacent numbers competed.
With only Zhao Xunan in the Martial Arts Academy, he had no need to rush. When all slips were drawn, he sent Xiao Nuo'er for the last one.
"Go on. It must be 458—I've had a knack for that number lately," he joked.
Xiao Nuo'er skipped to the barrel, grabbed the slip, and squealed, "Master, it's 458!"
Zhao Xunan forced a smile. The crowd's stares made him squirm.
As he prepared to leave, a young man in a bright yellow robe blocked his path, pointing an accusing finger.
"Bastard, don't think being an academy master makes you special. Insult the Imperial Preceptor again, and I'll flay you alive!"
Zhao Xunan's brow furrowed. He'd never insulted Phoenix. Why this tirade?
The young man's voice rose, silencing the crowd. A instructor gasped, "That's Prince Feng Luoxi of the Thirteenth Prefecture—why's he confronting the Martial Arts Academy master?"
The room erupted. Prince Feng, son of the Thirteenth Prince (a pillar of Great Qin's southern borders), was infamous for his temper. Despite being sent to the Imperial Academy to reform, he'd beaten a scholar, earned forty lashes from the Grand Academician, and been sent back to reform again—with little success.
"Thirteenth Prince's son!" the crowd whispered. "He's a menace!"
"Who says I insulted the Imperial Preceptor?" Zhao Xunan demanded.
Feng Luoxi sneered. "Everyone knows your tricks. You dared reject the Preceptor's betrothal—insulting him, you bastard!"
Slap!
Zhao Xunan's palm met Feng's cheek, snapping his head sideways. The crowd gasped. No one but the Grand Academician dared strike the prince.
"You—!"
Slap!
Another blow, harder. Feng's lips split, blood mingling with saliva.
"You—!"
Slap!
Slap!
Slap!
Ten slaps left Feng's face swollen, eyes and nose bleeding.
"Stop!" His two guards lunged with swords, but Xiao Nuo'er intercepted, punching them into the wall. Dust rained down as the guards crumpled.
Zhao Xunan grabbed Feng's hair, dragging him back. Ten more slaps split his skin.
"F-Father—" Feng wailed, tears mixing with blood.
"Your father got forty lashes and still couldn't discipline you," Zhao Xunan scoffed. "Changing faces won't save you."
He turned to the guards, pinching the pressure point below their navels. Their eyes glazed over—both were Core Formation experts, now crippled for life.
The crowd froze. In seconds, the prince and his guards had been humiliated and maimed.
"Zhao Xunan, you dare harm a prince? This is treason!" The Imperial Academy's director shouted, pointing an accusing finger.
Zhao Xunan slapped him flat, knocking out teeth. "I'm a Second-Rank Official. A lowly scholar questioning me—is that not treason?"