For years, Old Liu had overseen apprentice selections, usually as a hands-off overseer, leaving tasks to his juniors. At most, he’d write a few recommendation letters for silver, pocketing some coin.

This time, the trials were too critical for such laxity.

The night before the old master left for Shen City, he summoned Old Liu.

Expecting a craving, Old Liu sent his son to Wenmei Studio by Huguo Temple for two boxes of honey cakes.

Instead, the old master tore into him.

“Junior Brother Liu, you’re personally handling this trial. Botch it, and if it affects the big event in six months, you and your useless son are out of Baolin Martial Hall.”

Those were his exact words.

Having called the old master “Senior Brother” for decades, Old Liu had never seen him so furious. Reluctantly, he rallied his focus for the perilous event ahead.

If Baolin’s golden reputation fell, Old Liu would suffer too.

He’d given his all.

Not only did he brave the sun all day at the gate, personally checking qualifications, but he designed this trial’s challenge himself.

When someone offered five hundred silver dollars for the test details, Old Liu held firm.

Even at a thousand, he gritted his teeth, clinging to his last shred of resolve.

Such injustice!

After years of easy gains, when had he ever endured this?

No wonder his face had been sour these past days.

—

Now, Old Liu stretched, leaning back in his pearwood chair, watching the big fellow approach the second-rank iron horse.

“Thought it through? With ordinary brimming blood energy, you won’t lift that second-rank iron horse!” he drawled.

The two black-robed disciples blinked—examiners were forbidden from giving hints, yet Old Liu spoke freely.

Facing this revered hall elder, they dared not protest.

Seeing the big fellow nod earnestly, Old Liu said no more, deciding that if he faltered under the blood energy strain, he’d step in to save him.

That’ll square things with Lin Junqing’s personal visit.

As for more—hah, favors alone won’t cut it.

—

Xiangzi caught Old Liu’s hint and shed his last hesitation, choosing the second-rank iron horse.

Not to hide his strength, but from caution.

With his three pillars of blood energy, his raw power should outmatch anyone in the courtyard.

But Chen Jiang’s fate and Old Liu’s veiled warnings suggested this iron horse wasn’t simple.

Chen Jiang, gifted and built like a barrel—perfect for elixirs—had brimming blood energy, a forearm-thick vortex in his dantian, and the arrogance to match.

Yet his leg snapped.

More puzzling, Chen Jiashang, with weaker blood energy, claimed top grade.

His evasive response to Jiang Wangshui convinced Xiangzi: this test wasn’t just about blood energy—there was a trick.

So, Xiangzi abandoned the first-rank iron horse.

Steady sailing for ten thousand years. The blood energy test came weekly. For his first, he’d play safe, probe the depths.

Gazing at the middle dark iron horse, Xiangzi took a deep breath and touched it.

The moment he did, his eyes narrowed—his dantian’s vortex froze, its spin slowing.

In that instant, he understood why Chen Jiang failed.

This wasn’t solid steel!

It was five-colored gold ore!

Or rather, steel mixed with five-colored gold ore.

—

Not a blood energy test?

More like picking miners!

Feeling the familiar coolness under his palm, Xiangzi was momentarily stunned.

His hesitation looked like fear to the examiners.

“Young apprentice, you’ve got half an incense stick’s time,” a black-robed disciple said, barely hiding his impatience.

Snapping back, Xiangzi nodded, testing the weight with one hand.

Old Liu shook his head faintly. This five-colored inferior ore iron horse was tough even for ordinary ninth-rank martial artists to handle long.

This naive big fellow, with no experience, lingered too long. Think it’s a courtesan from the Red Mansion?

After such contact, his blood energy was dulled. How could he lift it?

By contrast, Chen Jiashang had cleverly wrapped his shirt around the iron horse’s ends, lifting it slowly—a sharp move.

This big fellow was thoughtful but lacked wit.

Even Lin Junqing’s pick has such poor judgment?

But then, Old Liu’s rheumy eyes widened.

The black-robed disciples’ jaws dropped.

The big fellow, sinking his breath to his dantian, cautiously extended one hand to test—

Then, with a whoosh, he lifted the iron horse single-handedly.

Stunned silence.

—

The most shocked was Xiangzi.

Staring at the iron horse he’d effortlessly hoisted, he gave an awkward smile.

Overcautious, huh?

Shaking the iron horse lightly, Xiangzi sighed.

This?

A mere steel horse mixed with five-colored ore slag broke Chen Jiang, the Deyilou heir’s leg?

These kids have no mine resistance.

Xiangzi couldn’t help but chuckle wryly.

But then, a spark of doubt rose. If this is an apprentice trial, why test for this instead of blood energy or skin?

And why didn’t even Jiang Wangshui, with his insider knowledge, know the trial had changed?

Xiangzi’s brow furrowed, and he loosened his grip.

With a thud, the iron horse hit the ground, leaving a small dent.

Old Liu’s eyelids and heart jolted—he’d overseen trials for years, yet this stunned him.

Lifting the second-rank iron horse wasn’t rare, but single-handedly?

In memory, few had done so.

Especially with this iron horse, laced with five-colored gold ore!