The field was completely silent as the participants reacted in varying ways. Some were nervous, some were hesitant, some were confident.
They only have three days to master a spell they had never seen before. Moreover, they have to do it under the pressure of a dragon formation.
"This formation will isolate you from outside interference," The gray-robed old man added, "You may neither communicate with others nor receive guidance. Rely only on your own understanding."
With that, he raised his hand.
"The test begins!"
The formation roared softly.
Light surged along the dragon-shaped array as the runes before each participant pulsed once, then slowly began to sink into their surroundings.
On his stone pillar, Han Qixing sat cross-legged and closed his eyes.
His breathing remained steady.
As the first traces of the Dragon Soaring Palm's intent washed over him, his mind sharpened instead of panicking.
Below, Han Xuan watched silently, his gaze fixed on his son.
Beside him, Wang Dazhu frowned deeply, his hands unconsciously clasped behind his back. After hesitating for a moment, he let out a low sigh. He said quietly, "This stage is going to be difficult for Xiaohu."
Han Xuan glanced at him.
Wang Dazhu continued, his tone heavy with worry, "His spiritual root is decent, but when it comes to comprehending cultivation techniques and spells… he's never been particularly sharp. If it were a test of strength, I wouldn't be concerned. But comprehension…"
Although he didn't finish the sentence, Han Xuan understood.
After a brief silence, Han Xuan nodded faintly, "I have the same concern."
Wang Dazhu was startled and looked at him.
"My son specializes in sword techniques," Han Xuan said calmly, "But this is clearly a palm technique. There is no direct overlap."
A sword cultivator comprehending a palm art was no easier than forcing water to flow uphill.
For the first time, the two fathers exchanged a glance filled with the same unease.
Time passed quietly.
Half a day went by.
On the raised stone pillars, the differences between the participants began to show.
Some youths sat upright, eyes closed, their expressions gradually settling into calm focus. Faint ripples of spiritual energy occasionally surged around them—signs of progress.
Others, however, were clearly struggling.
Wang Xiaohu's face was slick with sweat. His brows were tightly furrowed, and his breathing had grown uneven. From time to time, his fingers twitched as if trying to grasp something just out of reach.
It was obvious that comprehending the Dragon Soaring Palm was far from smooth for him.
Not far away, Han Qixing sat cross-legged atop his pillar.
Outwardly, he appeared far calmer than most. His breathing remained steady, and his posture did not waver.
But inside, frustration slowly accumulated.
'This spell…'
It was powerful and direct, emphasizing explosive force and forward momentum. Its circulation routes differed greatly from the flow patterns of the Seven Star Sword Art. No matter how he tried to align them, something always felt off.
The intent would not connect.
After another failed attempt, Han Qixing slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze lifted, drifting toward the vast dragon-shaped formation surrounding him.
He observed it in silence.
The rising pillars.
The flowing light.
The way spiritual energy coiled and surged like a living creature.
After a long moment, he let out a quiet sigh. He murmured softly, "It seems that I can only rely on it."
The next instant—
A faint, starlike glimmer flashed deep within his pupils.
For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to reflect a night sky filled with scattered points of light.
The Seven Star Insight Eyes awakened.
This was an innate ability born from the Seven Star Sword Body—granting its owner heightened perception and deductive vision. Through it, one could perceive the flow of spiritual energy, trace movement trajectories, and instinctively identify flaws and missing links within techniques.
As Han Qixing's gaze swept across the formation once more, the world before him subtly changed.
The dragon-shaped formation no longer appeared as a simple arrangement of stone pillars and flowing light.
They are threads!
Countless fine threads of spiritual energy filled his vision.
They coiled through the air, sank into the stone pillars, and surged along fixed paths within the formation, rising and falling in rhythmic cycles. Some streams were thick and forceful, like rushing currents. Others were thin and subtle, barely noticeable unless observed closely.
The dragon was no longer a symbol.
It was a circulation diagram.
Han Qixing's gaze followed the flow instinctively.
From the dragon's head, spiritual energy gathered and compressed. It then surged forward, racing along the spine, before bursting outward through the claws and tail. The motion was fierce, direct, and unhesitating.
'So that's it…' Han Qixing felt enlightened.
Before, all he had seen was pressure.
Now, he could see momentum and visualization.
His eyes shifted to the runes of the Dragon Soaring Palm hovering nearby.
Previously, they had seemed disordered—symbols layered upon symbols, difficult to connect. But under the Insight Eyes, faint lines emerged between them, linking separate runes together.
Missing links revealed themselves.
Where others saw isolated movements, Han Qixing saw continuity.
He noticed subtle gaps in the energy flow—points where the palm technique demanded intent rather than form, momentum rather than strength. The reason his earlier attempts had failed became clear.
He had been trying to control the spell.
However, this palm art required one to ride the force, not restrain it.
His gaze lowered to his own body.
Within his meridians, the circulation of his spiritual energy appeared clearly; every fluctuation lay bare. Compared to the dragon's path, his internal flow was too cautious, too segmented.
No wonder it would not align.
Slowly, Han Qixing adjusted his breathing.
He did not attempt to execute the spell immediately.
He merely observed.
The dragon's rise.
The surge.
The release.
Piece by piece, the structure of the Dragon Soaring Palm unfolded before him—not as a sequence of movements, but as a logic of force.
Understanding did not arrive in a flash.
But for the first time since the test began, the path forward was no longer obscured.
Han Qixing closed his eyes once more.
This time, his frustration had faded.
In its place was quiet clarity.
✽ ✽ ✽
Time passed quietly within the formation.
Day and night alternated above the plaza. The dragon-shaped array remained active throughout, its light waxing and waning with a steady rhythm. Some youths fell into deep focus, others into visible exhaustion.
Finally—
The third day came to an end.
With a low hum, the formation slowly dimmed. The streams of light receded, and the raised stone pillars descended one by one, returning the participants to the plaza floor.
The gray-robed old man stepped forward. He announced calmly, "The time limit has ended. Those who remain will now demonstrate the results of their comprehension."
His gaze swept across the youths.
"To pass the second stage, you must demonstrate the Dragon Soaring Palm by attacking me."
A faint stir ran through the crowd.
"I will judge whether you have truly comprehended the spell," The gray-robed old man continued, "Whether your mastery is deep or shallow does not matter—as long as the foundation is complete."
The rules were clear.
"Who wants to go first?" The gray-robed old man asked.
The participants hesitated.
For a moment, no one stepped forward.
An uneasy silence settled over the plaza as the youths exchanged glances, clearly reluctant to be the first to reveal the results of their three days of effort. In a comprehension test like this, success or failure would be exposed immediately.
In the end, it was Chen Ziming who broke the silence.
He stepped forward with a faint sneer, his posture relaxed and unhurried. His gaze swept over the remaining participants, and he let out a low snort, unmistakably filled with disdain. He said lightly, "Bunch of losers. Is this all the confidence you have after three days?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Chen Ziming raised his chin, his expression openly arrogant as he walked toward the center of the plaza.
"I'll go first."
He stopped several steps away from the gray-robed old man and took a deep breath. Spiritual energy surged within his meridians as he circulated the newly comprehended technique.
With a sharp exhale, he thrust his palm forward.
A burst of energy rushed out, condensing briefly into the vague outline of a dragon's head before surging ahead and dispersing a short distance away.
The power was not overwhelming.
The form was imperfect.
But the circulation was correct, and the momentum was present.
The gray-robed old man's gaze followed the palm strike calmly. After a brief pause, he nodded faintly, "Structure complete. Momentum formed. Pass."
A wave of murmurs spread through the plaza.
Chen Ziming withdrew his hand, a satisfied smile curling at the corner of his lips as he turned back toward the other participants, especially to Lu Haoran and Zhao Wenjie.
"Tch! I was about to go first, but that bastard got ahead of me instead," Zhao Wenjie muttered irritably, "And he even called us losers."
His brows were tightly knit, annoyance clear on his face.
The Three Great Families had always been locked in competition—generation after generation. From elders to juniors, none of them were willing to concede even the smallest point.
Chen Ziming's words earlier had undoubtedly struck Zhao Wenjie's pride.
After a brief pause, Zhao Wenjie stepped forward.
His expression was cold as he walked toward the center of the plaza, his movements sharp and deliberate.
"I'll demonstrate."
Standing before the gray-robed old man, Zhao Wenjie steadied his breathing and began circulating the Dragon Soaring Palm. Spiritual energy gathered in his palm, pulsing unevenly as he forced the technique into motion.
With a shout, he struck.
The energy surged outward, forming a faint dragon-shaped outline that lunged forward before quickly dissipating. The momentum was present, but the flow was slightly rough, lacking the smooth continuity Chen Ziming had shown.
Still, the foundation was intact.
The old man observed silently for a moment, then nodded, "Circulation complete. Intent formed. Pass."
Zhao Wenjie withdrew his hand, his expression darkening slightly as he glanced in Chen Ziming's direction.
Almost the same result.
But just a little worse.