"These two fellows…" Lu Haoran sighed helplessly.
He shook his head slightly, a trace of resignation flashing across his face.
Originally, he had not intended to rush. Whether first or last made little difference to him. But Chen Ziming's earlier provocation had disrupted that plan.
Even if the words were not directed at him personally, this was no longer just a matter of individual confidence.
It concerned the dignity of the Lu Family.
Letting Chen Ziming take the lead uncontested would only allow the Chen Family to dominate the narrative.
With that thought, Lu Haoran stepped forward.
"I'll go next."
His tone was steady, neither arrogant nor hesitant, as he walked toward the center of the plaza to stand before the gray-robed old man.
Lu Haoran stopped a few steps in front of the gray-robed old man.
He did not waste time on posturing.
Closing his eyes briefly, he adjusted his breathing and let his spiritual energy settle.
When his eyes opened, his gaze was calm.
He raised his palm.
With a smooth forward push, his spiritual energy surged out.
This time, the air rippled visibly.
The outline of a dragon did not merely flash into existence—it coiled forward, its form clearer and more cohesive. Though still far from complete, the momentum carried through the entire strike instead of collapsing midway.
The palm wind rolled forward in a continuous wave before dissipating.
A brief silence followed.
Even Chen Ziming's expression tightened slightly.
The gray-robed old man observed the lingering ripples carefully. After a moment, he gave a faint nod. Then, unexpectedly, spoke again, "Your circulation is stable, and your intent is coherent."
His tone remained calm, but the words themselves carried weight.
"For a first comprehension, this is not bad. Pass."
The crowd stirred.
Receiving praise, however slight, from an official of the recruitment was no small matter.
Lu Haoran withdrew his hand and stepped back, his expression unchanged, as if the result had been within expectation.
Behind him, Chen Ziming's eyes narrowed.
Zhao Wenjie clenched his fist.
"Children from big families are really built differently," Wang Dazhu sighed softly, "In just three days, they can grasp a new spell."
He shook his head, his tone filled with emotion rather than envy.
"Even though the techniques they performed were still shallow, being able to learn them in such a short time is already impressive."
His gaze shifted to his son, who had already returned to his side.
"How is it, Xiaohu?" Wang Dazhu asked, "Are you confident?"
Wang Xiaohu did not answer.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his lips pressed tightly together. His fingers twitched unconsciously, betraying the tension he was trying to suppress.
Seeing this, Wang Dazhu could only let out another quiet sigh.
The test continued.
One participant after another stepped forward.
Some failed to materialize the Dragon Soaring Palm at all. Their spiritual energy scattered the moment they attempted to circulate the technique.
Others stood frozen in place, unable to even begin, as though the past three days had yielded nothing.
Each failure drew quiet sighs from the crowd.
It quickly became clear—
Three days were far too short for most participants to truly learn a new spell.
Of course, not everyone failed.
A handful of youths managed to release a faint surge of energy, barely forming the outline of the Dragon Soaring Palm. Their results were crude and unstable, far inferior to those of the Three Great Families, but they had crossed the threshold nonetheless.
They barely passed.
In the end, only two participants remained.
Wang Xiaohu and Han Qixing.
The plaza grew noticeably quieter.
Wang Xiaohu hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground. His palms were already damp with sweat, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
He glanced sideways.
Not far away, Han Qixing stood quietly. His small frame looked almost fragile compared to the others, yet his posture was steady, his expression calm—far calmer than Wang Xiaohu felt at that moment.
'He's younger than me…' Wang Xiaohu thought.
Han Qixing is younger by several years, and yet he showed no fear.
Wang Xiaohu clenched his fists.
If even someone younger than him could stand there without panic, then what excuse did he have?
He took a deep breath and stepped forward. He muttered under his breath, "I'm the elder brother. How could I embarrass myself in front of my little brother?"
With that, Wang Xiaohu straightened his back and walked toward the center of the plaza.
Not far away, Han Qixing remained unaware.
Without realizing it, he had already become a little brother in Wang Xiaohu's eyes.
Standing before the gray-robed old man, Wang Xiaohu clenched his fists, then slowly raised one palm. His spiritual energy surged unevenly, hesitating as if resisting his control.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The surrounding air was silent.
Just as his breathing began to falter, Wang Xiaohu gritted his teeth and forced the circulation to complete.
A faint burst of palm wind shot forward.
It was weak.
It barely took shape.
But it was there.
The old man watched closely, then gave a slight nod, "Intent formed. Circulation completed. Pass."
Wang Xiaohu nearly collapsed in relief.
He hurried back, his face pale but his eyes shining faintly.
Wang Dazhu's tense expression finally softened.
"Congratulations, Brother Wang," Han Xuan said with a faint smile, "It seems Xiaohu is likely to secure a spot this year."
Wang Dazhu laughed softly and cupped his hands, "Thank you, Brother Han. But it's still too early to say. There's one more test ahead. Whether that brat can truly hold onto the spot remains to be seen."
Though his words were humble, the joy in his eyes could not be hidden.
Han Xuan turned his gaze to his son and reached out, tapping Han Qixing lightly on the shoulder. He said calmly, "Go. It's your turn. Remember what I told you."
Han Qixing nodded, "I remember it, Father."
With that, he walked toward the center of the plaza.
A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd.
"That's him, the youngest one."
"He's ten years old, right? My son is also ten, but his cultivation base is still too low. I wanted him to participate just to gain some experience, but he said it would be a waste of time since he couldn't possibly secure a spot."
"Well, experience can be gained just by watching. Participating at such a young age would only embarrass oneself and might even damage one's confidence."
"Still, can this boy really comprehend the spell properly? My nephew is ten as well, and he's still struggling with basic spells like Fireball, let alone something at this level."
"That's true. The examiner said it's only a low-level spell, but it doesn't look simple at all."
"I heard the examiner comes from the Clearsky Sect. Maybe what they consider 'low-level' is completely different from what we casual cultivators are used to…"
Few people held high expectations for him.
After all, age mattered.
Standing before the gray-robed old man, Han Qixing raised his palm and began circulating the Dragon Soaring Palm.
His movements were steady.
The spiritual energy in his meridians flowed cleanly, neither hurried nor hesitant. As his palm pushed forward, a surge of energy emerged—clearer than most, carrying distinct momentum.
It was not dazzling.
But it was solid.
Compared to the majority of participants, his performance was surprisingly good.
Still, it remained inferior to those of Chen Ziming, Lu Haoran, and Zhao Wenjie.
And that was exactly how Han Qixing intended it.
In truth, he could have done far better.
Far better than Chen Ziming, Lu Haoran, or Zhao Wenjie.
With the aid of his Seven-Star Insight Eyes, he had already grasped nearly seventy percent of the Dragon Soaring Palm. Given more time, perfect mastery would only be a matter of course.
Therefore, if he wished, he could have unleashed a palm strike powerful enough to stun the entire plaza.
But his father had warned him not to stand out—to avoid drawing the attention and hostility of the Three Great Families too early.
There was no need to place himself on the edge of a blade now.
After all, this was not the main event.
There was no point in revealing everything he was capable of at this stage.
As long as he passed the test, that was enough.
Everything else could remain hidden.
Only when he stepped onto the true stage would he go all out.
The gray-robed old man watched the palm strike carefully, then nodded once, "Circulation complete. Intent formed. Pass."
Han Qixing lowered his hand and turned back calmly, as though the result had never been in doubt.
From the crowd, a few surprised gazes followed him.
"He passed the test… incredible. Which family does he belong to?"
"I heard he's Han Xuan's son."
"Han Xuan? That name sounds familiar…"
"It's the owner of Hollow Tavern—the one who recently became known because of his feud with Chen Wuye of the Chen Family."
"So it's him…"
"To think he has such a talented son."
Quietly, without anyone realizing it, another variable had entered the field.