Dragon Heart. Land Of Magic. Litrpg Wuxia Saga. Book 6 - Volume 1 Chapter 7 428
“I want to congratulate all of you once again on your accomplishments,” Mentor Jean said, applauding. He stood in the black circle, where Hadjar was. The other examiners also walked over to their groups. “You have to pass one last test. After that, you’ll become a part of our School. Who knows, you may even be able to advance and become a fully-fledged disciple, or go even further in the future!”
The bored skepticism on the other examiners’ faces didn’t escape Hadjar’s notice. They clearly didn’t think it possible. Hadjar smiled. So be it. Even if no ordinary disciple had ever become an inner circle disciple before, Hadjar would be the first to reach the top of the ranks from the bottom rungs. It was the only way he could fulfill his vows.
At that moment, Hadjar’s eyes flashed with a determination so strong and sharp that it was able to attract the attention of Examiner Markin. Looking at the ragged man in dirty clothes, he noticed the red tattoo on his arm. His eyes widened in surprise. A Name? Here? Among these incompetents, whose power was barely enough to allow them to be ranked as mere losers?
A moment later, his surprise turned to joy. What luck! He had been searching for a Named One for a long time. However, the stronger a Named One was, the harder it was to strip them of their Name.
I only need sixteen more Names to complete the Hundred Voices pill. With it, I can break through to the next level of Weapon Mastery!
Still looking disinterested, the examiner began to watch the ragged man. He didn’t care whether the man passed the last test or not. The examiner wondered what kind of hardsh.i.p.s this ragged man had gone through if he had such a strong heart at such a young age. Unfortunately, his experience wouldn’t help him against Markin. It was sad, though. By harnessing such willpower and talent, he might’ve overcome the shackles of his worthlessness… Such a bright and strong Name would be the perfect ingredient for his Hundred Voices pill. As soon as Markin found the other fifteen Named Ones he needed, he would come for the vagabond. It was unlikely that he would be able to become strong enough to resist the Soul Technique of a cultivator at the initial stage of the Lord level in that time.
“Your last test will be the simplest, and at the same time, the most difficult,” Mentor Jean waved his hand.
Hadjar could only sense a small disturbance in the energy flow, but he didn’t understand what was going on. Prompted by a wave of the examiner’s hand, a tall stele appeared in the center of each circle. They seemed to have grown out of the ground, as if the sand had suddenly compressed into a single stone monolith.
“The steles you see before you are incredibly strong. Anyone who can even scratch one will be granted one of these.”
Mentor Jean held up his hand. A triangular medallion glinted between his fingers. Made of silver, it had a small stone in the center of a complex pattern. Another wave of whispers rose up among the examinees. It was their first time seeing the medallion of ‘The Holy Sky’ School and it was difficult for them to believe that all they had to do to get it was leave the slightest of cuts on a stele.
“Excuse me, honorable Mentor Jean,” a young man of about fifteen stepped forward. “Did I hear you correctly? In order to become a disciple at your school, I only need to scratch this stele?”
“Yes, that’s right, young warrior. Just keep in mind that you, like everyone else, will only have one try. So, I would advise you to use your strongest Technique.”
The examiner’s response still didn’t calm the young man down.
“What about an artifact? Can I use my artifact?”
“Yes, you can,” Mentor Jean nodded. “But only if it’s below the Imperial level.”
Silence enveloped the square. An Imperial level weapon? The cheapest ones cost at least six thousand coins. It was unlikely that a commoner (and all the cultivators gathered here were commoners), no matter how lucky they were, could’ve gotten their hands on such a treasure.
“Very well!” The young man shouted. “Then I, Bazil, the strongest warrior of Rasla village, will be the first to receive a medallion today!”
He took out a huge hammer resting on his back. A vortex of steel-colored energy swirled around Bazil. With a roar, he brought the shining hammer down on the stele. The impact was so strong that the wave of energy that spread out from the point of contact shattered the stones beneath. When the dust settled, the rest of the examinees watched Bazil disappear in a shower of green sparks.
“No!” He shouted faintly over the heads of the others.
There wasn’t a single mark on the stele.
“Next!” The examiners shouted in unison.
After that, a bunch of cultivators tried to leave at least a small crack on the stele. Many of them succeeded. But they only left behind really small scratches.
Powerful shots from a bow, where the arrow turned into a log thrown by a giant, left only a scratch. A blow with a gauntlet that was so powerful it made the ground rumble left only a scratch. A firestorm that turned into a crescent which melted the sand and turned it into glass left only a scratch. A spear thrust enveloped by a whirlwind left only a scratch. Dozens of powerful Techniques, the sight of which would once have made Hadjar feel like an unskilled child, were capable of inflicting only minor damage. Some even ended with their unlucky wielders being sent back to the city.
Everyone who succeeded received a medallion and stepped aside. There were about a hundred and fifty of them now. Only fifty examinees were left.
“Holy f.u.c.k!” Someone shouted.
Hadjar turned at the sound and smiled broadly. Einen, covered in iridescent scales, was trying to pull his staff-spear out of the stele. It had sunk almost a dozen inches into the column.
“Well done.” Mentor Jean said. “It’s not every year that someone who can damage the stele like that comes along.”
“Thank you for your kind words, honorable Mentor,” the islander bowed, and after receiving his badge, walked away to join the other lucky warriors. They looked at him as if he were a monster and hastily moved away, avoiding him. Finally, it was Hadjar’s turn. He was the last one.
He summoned the sleeping dragon from the depths of his soul. It was as long as his arm now. Shaking off its drowsiness, it flew into Hadjar’s mental body.
In the physical world, the black cloak, which looked as if it had been woven out of black fog, appeared across his shoulders. Wisps of the fog were separated from it by gusts of wind, but it instantly restored itself. The black blade appeared in his hands. It turned out that the Black Sword that Hadjar could now summon to reality was much stronger than the cheap artifact sword he’d bought.
“What a strange Call.” Jean muttered to himself.
Markin was so excited that he could barely stop himself from giggling. Such a Named One would certainly be the perfect final ingredient for his Hundred Voices pill and would even advance it to a new level! The gods clearly favored Markin.
Hadjar sighed and summoned all his energy and all his knowledge of the Way of the Sword Spirit. A storm of blue-black energy swirled around him. The cloak and sword condensed for a moment, and Hadjar shouted:
“Sixth stance: Wind!”
Leaving behind ghostly silhouettes, he moved a dozen yards in an instant and appeared right behind the stele. The crowd held their breath. They all saw the same monolith, which appeared unharmed. However, Hadjar hadn’t been whisked away by the green sparks.
Einen cleared his throat and hit the ground with his staff. With a terrible creak and a loud crash, the top half of the stele slid off and then fell to the ground. Utter silence followed. After a moment, Mentor Jean pulled himself together and proclaimed:
“Welcome to ‘The Holy Sky’ School!”
