Chapter 136: External Peak Assessment

Ning Changjiu watched the old man recording at the desk. It took him a moment to remember that today was the day not only for the Sword Trial but also for the Outer Peak assessment. He rubbed his head, feeling as though he had forgotten something crucial.

The old man waited. When Ning Changjiu remained silent, he looked up and asked curiously, "What's wrong? Nervous? If you are, we can move on to the next person. Let someone who isn't nervous step up."

Ning Changjiu thought that no matter how he arrived, since he was already here, he might as well give it a try.

"How does the assessment work?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The old man paused, then looked up, his face showing a trace of anger. "What's your name?" he demanded. "Instructor Sun just spent over fifteen minutes explaining everything. Where were you listening?"

Ning Changjiu had no reply.

Ning Changjiu's sudden appearance startled the other disciples nearby. From their perspective, a young man had inexplicably emerged from a jumble of rocks where no one could possibly have been hidden. The disciple who was next in line, his turn interrupted by Ning Changjiu, stood awkwardly in the middle of the path, unsure whether to step forward or back. He slowly regained his composure from the shock, his gaze fixed on the white-robed young man. The young man had an unfamiliar face, yet there was something vaguely familiar about him. The disciple initially suspected he was there to disrupt the Outer Peak assessment, but after observing him for a moment, he saw the person continuously rubbing his head, appearing dazed, almost like someone who had fallen and hit their head. Could it be that some troublemaker, lurking on the cliff face, had lost their footing, fallen, and injured their head? Mustering his courage, he stepped forward, observing Ning Changjiu, and asked, "Who are you?"

Hearing the other voice, the old man’s anger intensified. He rapped his pen on the table, splattering ink onto his hands, and glared. "And who are *you*?" he snapped. "What's all this disturbance? Is this place under your authority or mine?"

The disciple, startled, quickly turned and bowed to the old man, apologizing profusely. "Sword Master, I am the one scheduled for this round of assessment."

The old man pointed his pen at Ning Changjiu, his expression confused. "Then who is he?"

The disciple had no idea; he couldn't possibly say Ning Changjiu had fallen from the sky. If the Sword Master thought he was being mocked, he would likely lose his chance to take the assessment.

Ning Changjiu spared him the embarrassment, speaking up. "My name is Ning Changjiu, the 'Changjiu' as in 'enduring forever' or 'lasting a long time'."

The old man simply grunted in acknowledgment. "It's a fine name," he remarked. He then picked up a piece of paper, flipped through it, and frowned deeply. "Ning Changjiu... hmm, your name isn't on this list. Where did you spring from? Or are you impersonating someone and got the name wrong?"

"Ning Changjiu?" The disciple was taken aback. He immediately remembered certain stories circulating within the Inner Peak. "Are you *that* Ning Changjiu?" he asked.

Ning Changjiu looked at the old man. "Peak Master Lu... sent me," he said.

The old man was startled. "The Peak Master sent you? Do you know the Peak Master?" He then recalled something, and his gaze upon Ning Changjiu shifted. "Are you the fabled sole outer disciple of the Inner Peak?" he asked.

Ning Changjiu nodded. "Yes, I am."

Many of those present also recalled the legend from the Inner Peak. The rumor was that an exceptionally gifted young woman had been taken as an inner disciple by the Peak Master immediately upon her arrival. She was supposedly accompanied by a 'tag-along' senior brother, a fortunate fellow named Ning Changjiu, who, as the saying goes, benefited from her success and also came to reside in the Inner Peak. It was even said he found a pretext to attend classes with the girl. This perceived breach of rules sparked jealousy in many, who had been waiting for the day when the young man, whom they privately saw as a favored dependent, would eventually be cast out of the Inner Peak once he had outlived his welcome. Yet, it seemed the disciple had some knack for holding his position, clinging on without letting go. He understood the proverb that a tall tree invites the wind, maintaining a low profile with few rumors circulating about him. Only a handful of disciples had ever seen him, mostly on the day Lu Jiajia disciplined Yan Feng. Beyond his decent appearance, however, he didn't seem particularly remarkable.

Now, that legendary figure had suddenly, and very much alive, appeared before them. Many began whispering, slowly comprehending his identity. For such a disciple, who seemingly relied on others' influence, their feelings were largely disdain and contempt. His present appearance—having seemingly fallen from above and looking utterly lost among the peak stones—suggested he might have finally fallen out of favor and been cast out. A few female disciples, though, showed more curiosity, as if hoping he might offer some interesting new gossip.

Unlike the frigid peak, the base was milder, with soft green grass already sprouting from the ground. The pristine white waterfall plunging from the summit turned to mist midway, and if one looked up, several vibrant rainbows could be seen arcing through the air. Yet, despite the gentle spring breeze, as it ruffled the young man's robes, it carried an inexplicable air of melancholy.

The old man watched him for a long moment before sighing resignedly. "Since the Peak Master sent you, then go ahead and try."

"What are the rules?" Ning Changjiu asked.

Too lazy to explain again, the old man pointed to the disciple whose turn Ning Changjiu had inadvertently cut. "You go first," he instructed, "and demonstrate for him."

The young man was considered one of the Outer Peak's elite, having achieved the Middle Stage of Profound Entry in just a year. Many younger disciples looked up to him, certain he would be admitted to the Inner Peak. He had initially felt some trepidation about the assessment, but this brief interruption had surprisingly eased his nervousness. He thought about Ning Changjiu, who, despite living in the Inner Peak for months, wasn't a master himself but must have witnessed true masters. He wanted to show Ning Changjiu what kind of individuals truly entered the Inner Peak through their own abilities.

"Yes, Sword Master!" the disciple replied clearly, feeling a surge of confidence.

The Outer Peak entrance examination consisted of three steps, seemingly straightforward but in reality quite rigorous. The Heavenly Sword Sect practiced swordsmanship, and while the principles of sword techniques might evolve, their core tenets always remained speed, power, and precision. The swiftness and lethality of the sword were the lifelong pursuits of nearly all who practiced the art.

The first assessment tested drawing speed. The rules were simple: a wooden stake was placed before the disciple, who had three breaths of time to see how many sword marks they could inflict. More than twenty marks would qualify them for the next round. This was the easiest of the three stages.

The disciple's concentration was absolute. He had practiced countless times for this very day, mentally rehearsing the three-breath interval tens of thousands of times to ensure he seized every moment precisely, wasting not a single instant. As spiritual energy flowed into the sword, the brief three breaths seemed to stretch on endlessly. Under the sun, the sword's blade gleamed with blinding light. To those with weaker eyesight, the sword became a dizzying blur of light and shadow, moving with breathtaking speed.

Ning Changjiu took a quick look, grasped the rules, then gently rubbed his forehead, pondering what he had just forgotten. He extended his hand, revealing a fresh cut on his palm. He was certain he had inflicted it upon himself. The cut wasn't deep and appeared hastily made, likely in a moment of urgency to remind himself of something important. But... what exactly was it meant to remind him of? His head throbbed.

The first assessment round quickly concluded. The disciple sheathed his sword, and an instructor stepped forward to count the marks on the wooden stake. "Thirty-one cuts, exceeding twenty," the instructor announced. "Passed."

The old man nodded with some satisfaction. "Continue," he said.

The second round tested sword precision. A wooden board, marked with hundreds of colored squares, was placed before the disciple. The old man would then turn the board around, call out a color, and the disciple, relying on memory, had to pierce the corresponding colored square on the reverse side. Ning Changjiu watched for a moment, finding the task rather flashy and somewhat tedious. While cultivators generally possessed better memory than ordinary people, this disciple didn't seem to have a strong aptitude for it. He only correctly pierced twelve squares, yet this still met the Outer Peak's requirement of ten.

The final assessment was the most challenging. Only then did Ning Changjiu notice a burly swordsman standing before the old man. He had previously glanced at him and mistakenly thought he was a mere ink-grinding page. If the burly swordsman had known such a thought, he likely would have wanted to gouge out Ning Changjiu's eyes.

The old man said, "Choose a weapon."

The weapon chest opened, revealing an assortment of weapons of all sizes: nimble light swords, heavy bludgeons, long spears perfect for thrusting... all eighteen types of weapons were available. The disciple was to choose a weapon for the strongman, and if they could withstand three moves against it, they would pass the assessment.

The disciple's expression turned exceedingly serious. The strongman's cultivation was impressive, at least that of an Upper Profound Entry realm cultivator. Several promising disciples had already failed this very challenge. He took a deep breath, then pointed to the short sword that appeared to be the lightest and most agile. "That one," he said.

The strongman picked up the short sword, weighed it in his hand, and a hint of displeasure crossed his face. He much preferred heavier weapons like greatswords. Seeing the strongman's displeased expression, the disciple felt a slight easing of tension. This short sword would significantly negate the strongman's natural advantage, leaving his brute force with no easy outlet. The disciple believed that by maintaining a steady defense, enduring three moves would be no issue.

But the disciple had miscalculated. After successfully enduring two moves, just as a flicker of triumph appeared in his heart, the strongman suddenly cast aside the short sword and directly struck him in the chest with an open palm. The disciple had no time to react or evade, and was sent flying. The strongman had held back some of his strength during the strike, so the disciple wouldn't be severely injured. The disciple clutched his chest, lying on the grass, his face a mask of shock. He looked at the old man, trying to argue for fairness. "He... he cheated! Does that count? This... this is completely against the rules!"

The old man didn't even bat an eye, musing that not a single disciple had passed the assessment. Truly, each generation seemed to be worse than the last. He raised his voice and called out, "Next!"

The disciple, clutching his chest, turned ashen. A year of effort had been wasted; his next chance to join the Inner Peak would be a year away. He turned to look at Ning Changjiu, his frustration now directed at the disciple he perceived as living off others' coattails. Ning Changjiu remained indifferent, ignoring the other's gaze.

The old man casually asked, "Do you understand the rules now?"

Ning Changjiu nodded, took a sword, and approached a freshly erected wooden stake. Three breaths passed in a blur of sword strikes. Ning Changjiu then sheathed his sword and moved on to the next assessment.

The instructor counted the sword marks on the stake, then announced loudly, "Twenty-one." Many in the crowd wore various expressions. The recently failed disciple, however, felt a sense of calm reassurance. Though Ning Changjiu wasn't as weak as he'd imagined, he thought, at this level, passing the second round would be difficult, let alone the third.

Ning Changjiu looked at the wooden board. The board was turned over.

The old man glanced at the new willow branches swaying in the spring breeze. "Green," he said.

Ning Changjiu disliked the color, but it didn't impede his sword. A golden glint flashed in his eyes. As the spring breeze rustled the newly budding willows, their branches seemed to subtly guide his sword. His sword energy surged and receded, like the biting spring winds of early February. The old man's languid expression sharpened instantly. He hadn't clearly seen how the young man moved his sword, but almost simultaneously, every green square on the wooden board bore a clean, precise puncture at its center—the delicate marks of a sword tip, like a dragonfly dipping into water.

Ning Changjiu proceeded to the next round. Disciples standing farther away, who hadn't fully grasped what had happened or if he had passed the second round, then heard Ning Changjiu say in an utterly calm voice, "Choose a weapon for yourself."

The strongman's brow furrowed instantly. He looked at the presumptuous young man and sneered, "Are you sure about that?"

Ning Changjiu simply nodded, unwilling to waste words.

The strongman chuckled, a sound that could have been either mockery or genuine admiration, and remarked, "Bold indeed." Several had made it this far in today's assessment, but no one had ever dared to choose the greatsword. He found those disciples to be timid, ruining his day's enjoyment. Now, hearing the seemingly frail, white-robed young man speak so audaciously, he didn't hold back. He immediately grabbed a greatsword and advanced.

Ning Changjiu made no move. The strongman’s heart tightened. *What trick is this fellow playing?* he wondered. *He isn't even defending, forcing me to pull back my strength lest I seriously injure him.* His initial satisfaction at choosing the heavy sword quickly turned to discomfort. And that discomfort in his heart instantly transformed into agony.

A gentle breeze swept by, carrying the faint scent of new grass. The strongman’s movements froze. His sword came down smoothly and accurately, yet it struck the ground. The young man was no longer in front of him; he hadn't even noticed when he moved. He was like that wisp of spring breeze that had brushed his shoulder; by the time the strongman registered it, Ning Changjiu was already behind him. Ning Changjiu stood back to back with him, holding his sword in a reverse grip. The sword's tip rested precisely at the center of the strongman's back, having pierced his clothes and pressed against his flesh.

"You..." The strongman felt the sharp point against his back, utterly bewildered. "How did you do that?"

Ning Changjiu didn't answer. He sheathed his sword, walked to the old man's table, took an Inner Peak disciple's jade plaque, inscribed his name on it, and exchanged it for the one at his waist. Then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the mountain path leading to the Inner Peak.

As his figure receded, the wooden stake, which had initially shown only twenty-one sword marks, suddenly erupted with countless streaks of sword light. Then, with a soft rustle, it collapsed into more than three thousand four hundred wood chips, which drifted down like snowflakes and were gradually scattered by the spring breeze.

A long moment passed before widespread gasps of astonishment finally erupted across the field. By then, Ning Changjiu’s figure had already disappeared into the deep clouds of Tianku Peak.