The next afternoon, the Freshman Assessment officially began.
All freshmen converged on the assessment zone.
Located in the north-central part of the Martial Soul Department—adjacent to the dueling arena—the assessment area spanned a full 20,000 square meters.
The oval-shaped zone was divided into individual 400-square-meter square sectors. Though smaller than standard dueling platforms, they were more than sufficient for freshmen—most of whom were mere Soul Masters or Soul Grandmasters.
The area was already packed.
Since the assessment hadn't formally started, teams hadn't yet moved to their assigned sectors. For now, they clustered by class.
Chen Junting scanned the crowd—300 teams in total.
"Over half will be eliminated," he murmured. "I wonder how many from Class Nine will remain. Let's see if there are any hidden gems."
"I don't know how many from our class will stay," Wu Feng suddenly interjected, "but we'll definitely outdo that class."
Chen Junting's group followed her pointed finger—to a distant cluster with only a handful of teams. Fewer than half remained!
"Is that… Class One?" Ning Tian asked.
"Exactly Class One," Chen Junting confirmed. "Remember that Zhou Yi I mentioned on my first day? She's their homeroom teacher."
Ning Tian's eyes widened in realization. Wu Feng and Huo Yuhao shivered, then pitied the doomed class.
"Class One is truly tragic."
"Indeed," Chen Junting sighed inwardly. Without Huo Yuhao and Wang Dong, Zhou Yi's culling has grown even more ruthless!
He suspected that if not for the academy's rule requiring at least 300 teams to compete, Zhou Yi would've expelled even more students.
Moments later, a booming voice echoed across the Outer Academy:
"Attention all freshmen! Proceed immediately to the assessment zone. You have ten minutes to enter. Latecomers will be disqualified."
The announcement, audible everywhere, marked the arrival of judgment day.
After parting ways with Ning Tian's group, Chen Junting led his team to Sector 49. Unlike other squads—tense and fidgeting—his team radiated calm confidence.
Chen Junting's certainty came from his strength.
Qin Lan and Gao Ming's came from their faith in him.
The proctor for Sector 49 was a young male instructor—handsome, if not scholarly.
"Since all six teams are present, let's not waste time. But first—a warning: no maiming opponents. Violators…" His expression hardened as he swept the room, "will be expelled from the academy immediately."
A hush fell.
The penalty was severe.
The instructor opened his folder.
"Round One, Match One: Class One—Zhang Lian, Zhao Kai, Wang Feng. Class Nine—Chen Junting, Qin Lan, Gao Ming. Enter the sector. Stand at opposite corners. You may only activate martial souls upon my command. Understood?"
"Understood." ×6
The two teams took their positions.
Class One's formation was textbook:
- Zhao Kai, a stout boy, stood front—either Defense or Attack.
- Zhang Lian, lanky and sharp-eyed, flanked the side—clearly Agility Attack.
- Wang Feng, holding a drum, anchored the rear—his position and the forward duo's angled stance confirming him as Support.
The moment they locked eyes—
Class One's trio paled. They recognized Chen Junting. Facing him, their expressions turned grim—a tragic resolve, as if marching to their doom.
Chen Junting almost laughed.
He fixed his gaze on the nervous, sweat-beaded Zhao Kai. "You know me?"
"Yes."
"Then why not forfeit?"
"Forfeit? We'd die!" Zhao Kai shuddered, recalling some unspeakable horror. His teammates trembled too. Their despair hardened into desperate resolve.
Chen Junting's brow arched slightly.
The instructor's voice cut through:
"Begin."
Six martial souls erupted.
Class One's team revealed their strength:
- Zhang Lian wielded a Serpent Spear.
- Zhao Kai's martial soul was an Ironhide Boar.
Both were Soul Grandmasters—formidable even without Attack specialization.
Yet they felt crushing pressure.
"Charge!" Zhang Lian hissed, thrusting his spear. "If we lose, that lunatic Zhou Yi will expel us without blinking! And if she doesn't? We'll lose ten layers of skin!"
In that instant—
A killing aura exploded from Chen Junting.
Flash!
He appeared before Zhang Lian, Seven Kill Sword intercepting the spear mid-thrust. The blade halted the spear cold.
Zhang Lian, trained by Zhou Yi, reacted instantly—his final gambit! The spear vanished, replaced by a giant serpent, fangs bared.
Swish—!
Sword light flashed. Two serpent heads tumbled to the ground. Zhang Lian staggered, face draining of color as his martial soul reeled.
Zhao Kai activated his two soul rings. His body swelled; tusks gleamed as he charged—
Only for Chen Junting to tap his sword tip against the tusks.
Despite his slender frame, Chen Junting's strength rooted Zhao Kai in place.
A flick of the wrist—
The tusks shattered like brittle clay.
A black shadow darted past. Zhao Kai collapsed, unconscious, flying backward. Zhang Lian—still refusing to yield—met the same fate.
It was Qin Lan.
Now, his claws rested on Wang Feng's throat.
Chen Junting glanced at the drum-wielding boy and waved a hand.
"Send him off."
With Wang Feng's grateful nod, Qin Lan gently shoved him out of the sector—eliminated.
"Class Nine, Chen Junting's team—victorious."
The instructor noted the result, then stared at Chen Junting. He'd timed the match:
Less than twenty seconds.
Absolute domination.
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