In the seventeenth year of the Kaihuang era, I wrote my will in the examination hall.

The huge training ground was now empty where Li Jing was, but Qin Qiong's place was packed with people.

More than 10,000 people crowded on Qin Qiong's side, the air thick with the smells of sweat, leather, and the restlessness emanating from the fear of the unknown.

Qin Qiong didn't waste any words.

He simply waved his hand, and dozens of his personal guards, who were already prepared, stepped forward carrying heavy sword racks, which were then slammed heavily onto the yellow earth with a few clangs.

Those were not ordinary wooden stakes, but two rows of gleaming, menacing swords!

This type of horizontal sword, standard for the Sui army, has a thick back but a blade that is ground as thin as a snowflake. At this moment, dozens of blades stand facing each other with their tips pointing inward, leaving only a narrow passage in the middle that allows only one person to barely pass through sideways.

The midday sun shone fiercely, reflecting a blindingly white halo on the two rows of blades.

A gust of wind blew, and the blade emitted a slight hum, like the whisper of death.

"This formation is called 'Crossing the Mountain of Knives'."

Qin Qiong stood at the end of the passage with his arms crossed, his voice as cold as a white gust of wind blowing from beyond the Great Wall of Youzhou, devoid of any human emotion.

His tiger-like eyes swept over the more than ten thousand faces before him, and a cruel smile curled at the corner of his lips:

"His Highness wants wolves, not dogs. Those who walk this path without blinking or trembling may stay. Those whose legs go weak, who scream, or who wet their pants, get out!"

"Oh, and just a friendly reminder," Qin Qiong pointed to the gleaming blade, "this knife was just sharpened last night; it can cut a hair in two. If anyone loses their footing and bumps into it, losing an arm or an ear, don't blame me for not warning you!"

"hiss--"

A collective gasp of astonishment rippled through the crowd.

play for real?

The soldiers, who had been excited by Yang Yan's promise, now felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over their heads.

That's a real knife! Even though I know this is just a test, in this narrow passage, if you slip even slightly or your movements become distorted due to fear, that sharp blade can instantly cut through flesh and even sever your throat!

This isn't selecting soldiers, this is clearly playing with fire!

Li Mi stood on a high platform in the distance, watching coldly with a sneer on his lips: "Isn't this brutal method afraid of provoking a mutiny?"

However, where there is a great reward, there are bound to be reckless fools.

"What's there to be afraid of! Back in Liaodong, I slept among piles of corpses. What's a few broken knives to me?"

A burly, menacing-looking soldier, cursing and swearing, pushed his way through the crowd.

To show off in front of his comrades, he deliberately swaggered to the entrance of the sword formation and even spat on the ground contemptuously.

"Watch closely, Grandpa's about to show you!"

He stepped into the array of swords.

The first step is to proceed cautiously.

The second step is to show off.

However, when he took the third step, when the two rows of cold blades almost grazed his cheeks and neck, the metallic stench and the oppressive feeling of death instantly shattered his psychological defenses.

The blade was less than half an inch from his eyeball!

In that instant, he felt as if his eyeballs would burst open like grapes if he moved even slightly.

The original heroic spirit vanished at this moment, replaced by a trembling fear stemming from biological instinct.

"Ah...this..."

His pupils contracted sharply, and his foot, which had been about to step forward, froze in mid-air—a self-protective mechanism of his body under extreme fear—refusing to move forward.

"Thump!"

The burly man's legs went weak, and he collapsed like a rag doll in the midst of the blade array. If he hadn't pulled back quickly, his ear would have been sliced ​​off by the blades below.

"I can't...I can't! It's too close! Too close!" The burly man crawled backward on his hands and feet, his crotch already wet.

"Useless trash! Drag him away!"

Qin Qiong glared at him, and two bodyguards immediately rushed forward like wolves, dragging the burly man who was still crying out like a dead dog out of the training ground.

The entire room fell silent.

That guy was a notorious tough guy in the army, yet he was so scared by a few dead objects that he wet his pants?

At this moment, everyone realized that this test was not about brute force, but about whether one's heart was made of iron!

With the first negative example, fear spread like a plague.

But some people still refuse to believe it.

"Me too!"

Another hot-blooded young soldier rushed out. He had clearly learned his lesson and dared not walk slowly. He roared to bolster his courage and closed his eyes, intending to charge forward in one breath.

"ah--!"

Unfortunately, when faced with a "mountain of knives," speed is tantamount to suicide.

He had only taken two steps when the suffocating sharpness made him instinctively want to dodge. His steps faltered, and his body suddenly veered off course, causing him to crash directly into the sharpest horizontal blade on his left!

"court death!"

Several battle-hardened veterans standing beside the sword array reacted swiftly, and just as the man was about to smash himself open, they slammed their sword sheaths into his back, sending him flying.

Even so, a bloody gash appeared on the man's arm, and the blood instantly stained the ground red.

The glaring red color silenced the remaining people, and many began to quietly retreat.

"Who else?!"

Qin Qiong's roar echoed across the training ground, "If you're afraid of even this inanimate object, you should go back and hold your child, don't embarrass yourself here!"

The series of failures created an extremely oppressive atmosphere.

Yang Yan stood calmly on the high platform, his hands behind his back, but his fingers gripping the railing were slightly white. He was gambling, gambling that there might still be some truly ruthless people among the military households of the Great Sui Dynasty.

Just then, a commotion broke out in a corner of the crowd.

A thin, sallow-faced young man squeezed out.

He looked somewhat malnourished, and his military uniform was clearly a size too big, hanging loosely on his body like a child who had stolen an adult's clothes.

"Has this kid gone mad?"

"A gust of wind could blow you over, yet you dare to climb mountains of knives?"

Whispers could be heard from those around them.

The young man ignored the jeers around him; his face was deathly pale, and his lips were trembling uncontrollably, clearly terrified.

But in his deep-set eyes burned an almost obsessive flame as he stared intently at the end of the passage—the direction where Qin Qiong stood, and the direction leading to "eating meat," "tax exemption," and "perpetual land."

He thought of his mother, who was so hungry she was gnawing on tree bark, and his younger sister, who had been arrested by the government for not being able to pay the poll tax.

fear death?

If I'm not afraid of being poor, why would I be afraid of dying?

He took a deep breath, as if trying to suck all the air out of the room, and then took his first step.

step.

Two steps.

His steps were slow, even somewhat stiff, each step as if he were wrestling with some unseen demon.

As he stepped into the center of the sword formation, the flashes of the blades on either side illuminated his bloodless face.

He could feel the chill emanating from the blade corroding his skin, and he could even smell the faint smell of machine oil from the steel.

Cold sweat poured down his back instantly.

His calves were shaking violently, his body's instincts screaming for him to escape.

But he didn't stop, nor did he close his eyes.

He stared with bloodshot eyes, clenching his teeth as if he wanted to crush them, taking one step after another.

This short distance of only a dozen steps felt like an eternity to him.