Chapter 8: Practical Assessment
Yang Tong did not know that his results were so astonishing that they had attracted the attention of the school's upper management.
However, he could clearly feel his own changes; his neural reflexes were three times faster than before!
To have made such rapid progress in such a short time, there was only one explanation: the mysterious bronze coin that was still in his sea of consciousness.
"Could it be that this bronze coin can also improve my neural reflexes while absorbing energy?" he muttered to himself, his voice very low.
Whether it is or not, he could try it out once he got the prize for first place in this exam.
He received his number tag from the head teacher. Generally, as long as one passed the previous data exam and did not perform too poorly in the practical assessment, one could graduate.
However, if the exam data was excellent but the practical assessment performance was too poor, then a make-up exam would be required.
Alternatively, if the exam data was not up to standard but the practical assessment performance was very strong, one could also graduate!
The reason for this is simple; data is rigid, and there is plenty of room for growth.
Moreover, the broader social context dictates that if one cannot pass the practical test, how can one leave the county?
Therefore, the school starts cultivating students' practical combat abilities from a young age and places great importance on practical combat; otherwise, there would be no need to offer such heavy rewards.
This time, over a thousand students from the entire grade were participating in the practical assessment, so it was destined to take a long time to complete.
The format adopted was group matches. Sixteen large arenas had been built on the playground, with eight small arenas distributed around each large arena. Each large arena was a twenty-meter square, while the small arenas had sides of only ten meters.
There were forty-eight people in one large arena, and these forty-eight people were divided into eight groups. A point system was adopted: one point for a win, zero points for a draw, and minus one point for a loss. The person with the highest points would take first place in the group. Then, the first-place winners of the eight groups would compete in an elimination round. After determining the winners and losers, the first place would become the arena champion, and the champions of the sixteen large arenas would then compete in a final elimination tournament.
After hearing the rules, he calculated that he would have to fight at least ten matches! Except for the group matches, which were relatively frequent, there was enough rest time for the remaining matches.
The teacher in charge of refereeing began distributing protective leather armor, saying as they handed them out: "The match ends when the point is made. You may concede, but you must not use excessive force or intentionally injure anyone; otherwise, you will be severely punished according to school rules."
Everyone received a set of leather armor and a leather helmet. Wearing it was not heavy; it was made from the fur of a special savage beast and could effectively protect vital areas.
"Yang Tong, Tong Zhengbin. You two go up first. Feng Xiaobo, Gelu, get ready." A teacher specifically in charge of recording the battle lines called out loudly.
He and a boy of the same age jumped onto the arena. The referee said: "You cannot strike the head or the groin, understand?"
He suddenly had the illusion of fighting in a sanda match, but compared to the sanda and boxing of his past life, this was different. Can you imagine a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy punching with a force of over two hundred kilograms? This was a high-martial world where people could fly through the sky and burrow into the earth on their own; it was simply incomparable to the Dharma-ending age on Earth.
"You are Yang Tong from class five? I have long heard that you are now a rank three martial master apprentice. I want to see just how strong you are," Tong Zhengbin said, looking at him.
"Begin!" the referee announced.
Tong Zhengbin leaned forward and charged over, reaching him in the blink of an eye, and swept a leg out viciously.
His neural reflexes were now three times faster. Although the speed of this kick was fast, the moment his opponent raised his leg, he calculated the angle and power of the kick, as well as the best angle and method for dodging. He could even respond directly, but although his neural reflexes were fast, his body could not reach the same standard. To put it simply, his body had not yet fully become accustomed to his suddenly increased neural reflexes.
He took a side-step backward, easily dodging the kick.
However, Tong Zhengbin's practical combat experience was clearly very rich. He unleashed a combination of attacks, with every move targeting vital points and joints.
Yang Tong frowned and kept dodging. He did not lack practical combat experience because he had an expert father at home who often sparred with him. The reason he did not fight back was that he needed time to adjust his state.
"Hmph, I want to see how long you can keep dodging." Tong Zhengbin snorted in anger, and his punching and kicking speed began to increase.
He began to parry because his body could no longer dodge in time. This was different from the virtual body during the neural reflex test, where the actions were as fast as the consciousness. Now, however, the consciousness was fast, but the body could not keep up.
A qualified warrior must learn how to take a beating before learning how to hit others. This was a principle he had understood since he was young. His dad had started training him from a young age, and he had learned to parry from being beaten.
They had been fighting for over ten minutes, with Tong Zhengbin attacking and Yang Tong defending the whole time.
Tong Zhengbin gradually became impatient and shouted: "Are you a turtle? Damn it, take this—Whirlwind Sweeping Leg!" His figure spun rapidly, and he swept his leg out.
This kick was extremely fast, twice as fast as his previous moves.
The instant the kick was swept out, Yang Tong caught its trajectory, but it was already a bit too late to dodge. He simply stepped forward, used a knee strike to intercept his opponent's ultimate move, and then side-stepped and delivered a shoulder bash, knocking him flying.
Tong Zhengbin's ultimate move was interrupted midway, making him feel very uncomfortable. Before he could steady himself, he was knocked flying by a great force.
"I accept your concession," he said.
Tong Zhengbin stood up, patted his chest, and replied: "You are very strong; I lost."
"Yang Tong wins, next match." The referee nodded and announced. He glanced at the teenager, feeling a bit unsure about him. It was clear that the boy's basic skills were very solid, his parrying ability was very profound, and his defensive awareness was outstanding, comparable to many young experts in their twenties.
"Nice, Yang Tong, I couldn't tell your defense was this good. You were even able to defend against Storm Bin's fierce attacks. Awesome!" Feng Xiaobo was much more outgoing than him and well-informed; he had heard of Tong Zhengbin's nickname and knew his practical combat ability was very strong.
"Heh, it's your turn. Go on, do your best." He smiled slightly; he had a good impression of his desk mate.
This battle had left him very passive. He had only utilized two or three percent of his strength. His consciousness was too fast, but his body could not keep up. What should he do?
Carefully recalling the previous match, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he seemed to grasp something.
"It is impossible for the body's speed to keep up in such a short time. I must slow down the rhythm to adapt to my body. Slow down..." A flash of inspiration hit him. "Tai Chi Fist!"
That's right, how could I have forgotten? The old man at the Taoist temple on the mountain taught him Tai Chi Fist. What he learned was not the external health-preserving boxing methods, but authentic Taoist Tai Chi. It only had thirteen forms, but he remembered the essentials of Tai Chi Fist very clearly.