The Exam Begins

Over at the old instructional building's examination venue, the candidates waited all the way until noon. A whole morning had slipped by, yet the exam still showed no signs of starting. A few clever individuals surmised that the college was doing this deliberately to test their patience and perseverance—that this in itself was likely part of the overall scoring criteria. The majority of examinees agreed that this must be the case. After all, the re-examination operated on a grading system, where the final results were determined by the examiners' scoring. Such evaluations were inherently subjective. Aside from in-ring performance, perhaps they were also observing how each candidate conducted themselves outside the ring? Naturally, if a candidate could outright defeat the senior student assigned to spar with them, they would pass directly without need for any further scoring. Most people, however, harbored no such ambitions; they merely hoped to perform as well as they could, which was far more realistic. The female teacher remained standing where she was. Through several hours, she hadn't changed her posture once. Her unyielding presence kept the examinees below from daring to make any careless moves. They only took brief opportunities to stretch their limbs when getting water or using the restroom, and even then, none dared go too often—some had simply been holding it in the entire time. Just then, the female teacher turned her head, saw someone outside beckoning to her, and stepped out. A short while later, she returned and announced, "Examinees may take a thirty-minute break. Stay near the examination room. The doors will be sealed at twelve forty-five. Anyone late will be disqualified." A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. Examinees eagerly rose to stretch their legs; sitting motionless for so long had been agonizing. At that moment, a plump, round-headed young man with a remarkably sturdy build stood up. He produced a large parcel of beef jerky from his bag, each strip individually wrapped, and began handing them out to those nearby. "Hey there, classmate! This is homemade beef jerky from my family. Have a piece—it really curbs your hunger!" He passed them out to the surrounding candidates one by one. Chen Chuan was seated close by, only a few seats away, so he was offered a piece as well. Chen Chuan voiced his thanks and took it, though he didn't eat it right away, slipping it into his pocket instead. He had consumed three tubes of nutritional paste before coming, and sitting all morning hadn't exerted much energy, so he wasn't hungry at all. The stout youth went on enthusiastically distributing jerky to other students. Many who had grown hungry from the long wait thanked him and accepted the food. Some, however, turned him down flatly, preferring to eat the provisions they had brought themselves, while others didn't even bother being polite, coldly telling him to back off. The chubby youth took no offense. Grinning broadly, he pulled a stack of flyers from his bag and handed them to anyone who had accepted his jerky, telling everyone that if they enjoyed it, they were welcome to dine at his family's Han Family Restaurant. Any student from Wuyi would receive a fifty percent discount, and anyone who passed the re-examination would eat for free. With food in their bellies, the candidates could no longer keep quiet, and chatter soon broke out among them. Fang Zhiming couldn't resist striking up a conversation with Chen Chuan, who sat beside him. "Student Chen? How many years have you been training?" "Not long," Chen Chuan replied. "Ah, me neither," Fang Zhiming said. "There used to be an old man in our town who taught boxing. I got curious watching from the sidelines and followed along for a bit. That old man said I had talent, so my parents mortgaged one of our family's houses to scrape together enough money to hire me an instructor. I practiced morning and night every day, and two years just flew by..." He took a bite of beef jerky and mumbled around the mouthful, "To be honest, I've got no confidence at all. When the academy told me I passed the preliminary exam, I couldn't even believe it. But my teacher said you're only a true student of Wuyi once you pass the re-examination—passing just the entrance test doesn't count for anything. Since I cleared the prelims, I might as well give it a shot." Perhaps to soothe his own nerves, once he started talking, he couldn't seem to stop. Chen Chuan sat listening patiently, showing no signs of irritation. Meanwhile, in Exam Room Three, Wei Dong sprang up the moment he heard the break announced. Rather than sitting or standing properly, he squatted directly atop his chair, his head darting back and forth as he looked around. The candidate next to him was trying to eat. Already feeling irritable, the candidate couldn't take it anymore and snapped, "What on earth are you looking at? Can't you get down? Don't you get tired?" Wei Dong asked, "There's a friend I know, but I haven't seen him. Did he forget today's exam?" The candidate retorted testily, "There's more than one exam room. The person you're looking for might be in another one!" "There's more than one exam room?" Wei Dong gasped in sudden realization. Seeing that he finally understood, the examinee felt a weight lift from his chest. Yet a moment later, seeing Wei Dong still squatting there, he snarled in exasperation, "Are you a monkey or something? Can you just sit down properly?" Wei Dong glared at him. "Are you insulting me? You just cursed at me, didn't you?" The candidate's temper flared as well. He shot to his feet. "So what if I cursed at you? You want to fight? I'll gladly take you on!" "Great! Right now?" Wei Dong leaped down, eager and ready to brawl. Taken aback by his sheer, unhinged excitement, the candidate hesitated, then hissed under his breath, "Are you insane? Don't you want to take the exam? Aren't you afraid of getting disqualified?" Wei Dong merely stared at him, looking as though he couldn't care less about anything else. Seeing that the boy genuinely intended to fight, the examinee felt his scalp prickle with dread. Turning away, he sat back down in sullen silence. *Forget it, he's not worth the trouble.* Disappointed that a fight wasn't happening after all, Wei Dong scratched his head, hopped off his seat, and strolled out the door. The candidate cursed silently after him, wishing he would get lost and never find his way back. The half-hour break slipped by quickly. At a quarter to one, the four examination rooms were sealed once more, and the candidates resumed their silent, agonizing wait. Around one in the afternoon, Commissioner Jiang and his entourage emerged from a private dining room in the college cafeteria and made their way toward the old instructional building. Seeing that the man had finally arrived, the teachers in charge of the examination breathed a sigh of relief, their tension easing slightly. Teacher Ning, who had been accompanying him the whole time, asked cautiously, "Commissioner Jiang, may we have your signature now?" Commissioner Jiang gave a brief hum of assent. His assistant immediately presented the roster of examinees. After glancing over it, Jiang picked up a pen, signed his name at the bottom, and said, "Let's begin. Make good use of the time. These examinees haven't had it easy, so let's show some efficiency." Taking the roster, Teacher Ning breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped aside at once and issued hurried instructions to several assistant teachers, who promptly bustled off. The assistant stepped up to Commissioner Jiang's side and asked, "Which examination room would you like to observe first, Commissioner?" "Hmm, let's take a look at all of them." Commissioner Jiang seemed to recall something and asked, "Right, I heard that Rooms Three and Four have a higher difficulty level?" The assistant replied, "Yes. Because a good number of higher-caliber candidates were placed there, we accordingly arranged some top-tier senior students for them." "Let's go, then," Commissioner Jiang said. "We'll start with Exam Room One." Inside Exam Room Four, the doors swung open with a bang. An assistant teacher strode in briskly clutching a sheet of paper and presented it to the female teacher. She took it, looked up, and announced, "I will now begin calling numbers." A collective ripple of soft cheers and relieved sighs instantly swept the hall, but beneath her sharp, icy gaze, everyone quickly fell silent again. No one wanted to get thrown out at a time like this. The female teacher said, "When your number is called, proceed to the corresponding testing station. Numbers 115, 218, and 93, report to Station One. Numbers 3, 9, and 492, report to Station Two. Numbers 207, 100..." As she called out the numbers one by one, the candidates quickly noticed that the re-examination wasn't proceeding in numerical order at all. Chen Chuan instantly recognized the implication: even those holding higher numbers couldn't rest easy, forced to maintain constant focus and high alert. This was almost certainly a deliberate choice by the college. Listening to the call-outs, it wasn't hard to deduce that Exam Room Four had five testing stations in total, numbered one through five. This corresponded to the profiles of the five senior students they had received earlier, though there was no telling which one an examinee would draw. At that point, the heavy double doors at the rear facing the interior of the building swung open. The first batch of called candidates exited through them, following a wide, looped corridor toward their respective testing stations. After only seven or eight minutes, the next batch of numbers was called. The pace proved surprisingly brisk. Yet as the testing progressed, injured examinees began to appear. The school made no attempt to conceal it; through the open doors and windows, everyone could see candidates being carried out on stretchers, some unconscious, others with broken bones. Still, having already witnessed such sights during the entrance exam, and knowing the re-examination would only be harsher, the candidates were mostly braced for it mentally. An hour in, the senior students conducting the evaluations rotated out, granting the examinees a brief intermission. Information regarding these senior students was posted on the bulletin board for the examinees to see, sparking fervent discussion. "Passing today is going to be brutal! At Station Three, there's a senior named Tai Dongwei. My older brother told me he's terrifyingly skilled at striking. I really don't want to run into him." Many candidates nodded in solemn agreement. Although the profile lacked extensive details, the raw numbers alone were daunting: a height of 1.95 meters and a weight of 98 kilograms. Just thinking about facing him was enough to cause dread. They were only youths, after all, and most had yet to finish growing. Even with training under their belts, setting aside combat experience, they were still years away from their physical and strength peaks. Up against someone of that caliber, they might not even survive a single round—and without room to perform, what score could they possibly hope to earn? "Zhou Xinrou at Station One is 1.85 meters and 82 kilograms. A third-year student and a submission specialist. Rumor has it that the candidates carried out with broken joints all ran into her." "And then there's Zhong Wu at Station Five—he's even more ridiculous! 2.02 meters tall, 442 jin! A third-year student specializing in slams and takedowns. Isn't this totally out of our league?!" The examinees turned pale, sweat beading on their foreheads as they frantically flipped through their reference sheets again, hoping to spot anything they could use to their advantage. Chen Chuan pondered the situation. Since the senior examiners took turns resting, in theory, only a fraction of the candidates present would actually face these monsters. However, because the call-outs were not in order, who faced whom had likely been decided well in advance. He glanced at Fang Zhiming, who was staring nervously at the profile sheets, and asked quietly, "Student Fang, did you accept any financial sponsorship from the Mutual Aid Society earlier?" "Huh? Ah? That..." Fang Zhiming scratched his head. "My dad told me never to trust benefactors who volunteer to lend you money, so I turned them down..." Chen Chuan gave a quiet nod. If things were as he suspected, those pitted against these elite senior students were very likely the candidates who, like himself, had refused the Mutual Aid Society.