The Trial Grounds—the site where Huangfeng Academy screened enrollment applicants—was a vast rectangular indoor hall.

Seats surrounding the arena were packed with hopeful trainees awaiting their trials. At the center, the combat zone was enclosed by a massive blue-and-white square barrier, etched with a glowing magical array. Clearly a spell-formed ward, it shielded spectators from stray battle energy.

As applicants dueled formidable instructors, the crowd erupted in cheers for every flashy move.

Yet one person found the spectacle utterly dull—like children playing house.

After watching several bouts, Ling Yu saw through it all. No matter how “epic” the students felt their fights were, to a battlefield veteran like him? Still far too *naive and simplistic*. Every instructor used under thirty percent of their strength, deliberately leaving openings to boost the students’ confidence. In truth, a single serious strike would’ve left them reeling.

Boredom weighed heavy on Ling Yu’s eyelids.

Time drifted…

“Next up: Comrade Ling Yu. Please step forward for your trial!” a staff member announced.

Silence stretched a full minute. No Ling Yu appeared.

Murmurs rippled through the impatient crowd.

“Who is this? Taking forever!”

“Don’t waste our time—we’ve got trials too!”

Staff exchanged glances.

“Probably skipped. Move to the next?”

“What’s happening?” A man approached, scanned the roster, and froze. “Ah. *Him*.”

He was the staffer who’d registered Ling Yu earlier—and spotted him instantly: curled in a corner seat, fast asleep, cradling little Tongxi. A faint milky scent rose from the girl’s skin with each soft breath.

A nudge on his shoulder. A voice: “Comrade Ling Yu, wake up! Your turn!”

“Don’t… wanna sleep…” Ling Yu mumbled, jolting awake. He blinked drowsily at the arena—only one instructor waiting.

“Comrade Ling Yu, please don’t delay. Others are waiting,” the staffer urged.

Still half-asleep, Ling Yu stared blankly at the man. Recognition dawned. He straightened up with an awkward grin. “Sorry… the matches were kinda boring, so I…”

“*Boring*?” The staffer muttered under his breath, “Hmph. Only an arrogant fool would say that.”

“You *did* say it loud enough for me to hear,” Ling Yu deadpanned. “It *was* boring. Teachers held back like a waterfall of leniency—practically handing wins to students.”

“What?!”

“Hey! Kid, calling us weak?!”

“You bastard, say that again!”

Outrage exploded. Glaring eyes locked onto Ling Yu.

“I stated facts. Why yell?” He shrugged—then froze.

The commotion jolted Tongxi awake. Pale as paper, she clung to Ling Yu’s leg, trembling like a kitten facing a tiger horde. Tears streamed down her face.

“Tongxi, shh… no one will hurt you,” he soothed, stroking her head.

Chaos swirled. Voices blurred into physical blows against his ears. To Ling Yu? Noise. To Tongxi—pure terror.

His expression darkened. He drew a sharp breath and roared:

“SHUT UP! Can’t you see you’re scaring her?!”

His voice hit like a hurricane—silencing the entire hall. Stunned faces replaced fury.

“Still shouting? Shut your—!”

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Easy now, Comrade Ling Yu. Everyone, settle down. Trial resumes.”

Ling Yu lifted Tongxi gently onto his seat. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right back. Be brave, okay? You’re a strong girl.” He pried her tiny fingers loose, though his chest tightened. Passing the staffer, he murmured, “Please watch her.”

The man adjusted his glasses with a soft chuckle and nodded.

At the arena’s edge, the barrier shimmered open at a gesture. Ling Yu yawned wide, sword in one hand, the other propped behind his head—utterly relaxed.

“When did trials get so complicated? Why not just run drills? Must we fight… and multiple opponents?” he grumbled, rubbing sleepy eyes.

“So *you’re* the tardy applicant? Youth these days…” the instructor sighed.

“Tardy? Just bored, hehe.”

“Applicant Ling Yu—this is a trial. Focus.”

“Mm, sure, sure.”

A vein throbbed on the instructor’s temple. *Time for a lesson.*

He nocked an arrow. “Begin!”

*Whoosh.*

Ling Yu sidestepped without flinching—arrow embedding harmlessly behind him.

“Oh? No block? Not afraid of injury?”

“Injury’s trivial,” Ling Yu said calmly, glancing at the arrow. “You aimed for my foot. Deliberately.”

“…You *saw* that? Interesting.” The instructor’s eyes sharpened. *Perceptive. Worthy.*

Truth was, Ling Yu had read the shot before “begin” left his lips. Even a miss would’ve only grazed his thigh—nonlethal.

“Teacher,” Ling Yu added lightly, “pre-nocking before ‘begin’? I hadn’t drawn my sword. Not very fair.”

His tone carried the weight of hard-won experience.

For an Arcanist Warrior archer, nocking was the weakest moment—the perfect opening. Skipping it upfront? Unprofessional in real combat.

*Click.*

Ling Yu drew his blade just a hand’s width.

The instructor’s eyes narrowed. Another arrow nocked in a flash.

“PAY ATTENTION!”