The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

Luo Feng's expression changed.

The weight and center of gravity of the eighteen-foot spear were adjusted repeatedly in countless battles, and he never told anyone about them.

The man before me, a man of few words, had revealed most of his secrets just by watching him take a few steps as he entered the arena with his spear.

Luo Feng's expression shifted several times before he suddenly burst into laughter. His laughter carried a hint of annoyance at being seen through, but more so, it was the excitement of meeting a true opponent: "Good eye! Let's see if I, Luo, can take you down within five moves!"

The spear shot out like a dragon.

Luo Feng infused his first spear with his full power. The blood and qi of a fifth-grade martial artist surged out like a raging torrent, and the spear tip tore through the air with a sharp whistling sound.

Dian Wei did not take the blow head-on. Instead, he crossed his two halberds into a cross shape and twisted them outwards just as the spear tips were about to touch his chest. He used skillful force, not brute force.

The spear tip was deflected three inches, grazing his shoulder armor and sending sparks flying.

The second spear followed closely behind, but Dian Wei dodged it by sidestepping. He lightly tapped the spear shaft with his left short halberd while simultaneously thrusting forward with his right short halberd, forcing Luo Feng to withdraw his third spear attack to parry.

The third spear, the fourth spear, the fifth spear—Luo Feng's attacks surged wave after wave. The eighteen-foot spear danced and twirled in his hands like a living thing, its shadows blurring, leaving the audience below mesmerized.

However, Dian Wei did not retreat an inch.

His feet seemed to be rooted to the ground. No matter how fierce Luo Feng's spear was, he always stood firmly in the center of the arena. His double halberds twisted, blocked, struck, or stabbed, each strike precisely hitting the weakest point of the spear's attack.

As the fifth spear fell, Dian Wei suddenly switched from defense to offense. He took a step forward with his right foot, which shattered the wooden planks of the arena. The wooden stakes under his feet made a dull thud as if they could not bear the weight. He was like a tiger that had been suppressed for a long time, finally showing his claws.

With his left hand, he slashed diagonally at Luo Feng's right wrist, which was holding a spear, while with his right hand, he swept his lower body with his short halberd. The force and speed of the two halberds were completely different from the defense of the previous five moves. It was so violent that it was as if he had become a different person.

Luo Feng managed to block the upper body, but his lower body was a beat slower. His ankle was hit by the halberd shaft, and he lost his balance, crashing to the ground. The eighteen-foot spear flew out of his hand and stuck diagonally into the wooden railing at the edge of the arena, the shaft vibrating and humming.

The entire venue was deathly silent.

Then, thunderous cheers erupted.

Marquis Dingyuan, Han Chong, slapped his thigh and turned to Yuwen Lie, saying, "Did you see that? He didn't exert any force in the first five moves. He was waiting for Luo Feng's spear speed to decrease! This isn't a martial arts competition; it's a game of chess. He took into account Luo Feng's attack habits and the decrease in spear weight!"

His voice was filled with excitement, and he even forgot who he was talking to.

Yuwen Lie ignored his loss of composure, simply picked up the teacup, gently stirred the tea leaves floating on the surface with the lid, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

He certainly had his eye on Dian Wei. His defense in the first five moves was impeccable, and his sixth move, which turned defense into offense, was so decisive it was outrageous. This style of being rough yet meticulous, steady yet ruthless, was exactly the kind of talent the Ministry of Justice needed most.

But he didn't rush to speak.

The final selection is only halfway through, and the grand finale is yet to come. Asking for people now would seem too impatient.

After the battle between Dian Wei and Luo Feng, there was a brief stalemate on the stage. Several people ranked lower than Dian Wei had been eager to fight, but after witnessing Dian Wei's violent offensive and defensive transitions, they all gave up the idea of ​​challenging him and instead chose to challenge other opponents ranked higher.

Several Tiger Guards and Feathered Forest Guards took turns fighting each other, with each side winning and losing. The rankings changed several times. Although the scene was intense, it lacked the breathtaking tension of Dian Wei's battle.

About an hour later, the situation on the arena gradually became clear.

Zhan Zhao rose to fifth place with several clean and decisive victories, Dian Wei remained firmly in third place, and Xu Chu remained in first place with no one to challenge him.

People in the audience began to whisper among themselves.

"Why isn't anyone challenging Centurion?"

"Who dares? They didn't even use their second hand all day yesterday. Going up there today would be suicide!"

Finally, Han Dang, the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard who was temporarily ranked second, stepped forward.

Han Dang was a distant nephew of Marquis Dingyuan, Han Chong. He was a recognized fierce general in the Imperial Guard, with a sixth-rank cultivation level. He wielded a halberd and was known as "Little Marquis Wen" among the three major camps of the Imperial Guard.

He made it through the competition this year, showing outstanding performance. If it weren't for Xu Chu, the first place would almost certainly have been his.

Han Dang stepped onto the stage, halberd pointed directly at Xu Chu, and said in a loud, clear voice, "Commander Xu, I, Han, would like to learn from you."

Xu Chu slowly walked onto the arena.

He remained empty-handed, still silent and unyielding.

But when he stood opposite Han Dang, Han Dang suddenly felt an invisible pressure. It was not the pressure of blood and qi, but a pure physical strength and aura.

When Xu Chu stands in front of you, it's like a mountain has suddenly moved in front of you. There's nothing fancy about it; it just makes you feel like you can't breathe.

"Centurion Xu, draw your weapons." Han Dang held his halberd horizontally across his chest, his gaze solemn.

Xu Chu remained silent for a moment, then slowly unfastened a standard-issue longsword from his waist.

This knife was casually picked up from the weapon rack. The blade was straight and the edge was sharp, but the material was ordinary. It was the lowest-grade standard equipment in the Imperial Guards and could not even be considered a good grade.

Xu Chu held the knife in his hand, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground, his posture as casual as if he were holding a fire poker.

Han Dang no longer held back and brought his halberd down with a thunderous crash.

This halberd strike was powerful and heavy, infused with the full force of a sixth-grade martial artist's blood and qi. As the halberd blade sliced ​​through the air, it emitted a low groan, as if something had been torn apart.

Xu Chu raised his hand and slashed with his sword.

He hadn't used both hands all day, but now that he was finally drawing his knife, he was still only using one hand.

No one could describe how fast the slash was. The blade flashed, like a silver lightning bolt streaking across the arena, and then with a loud clang, the halberd flew into the sky.

Han Dang froze on the spot, his hands still in the posture of holding the halberd, but the halberd was no longer there.

His thumb and forefinger split open, and blood dripped from his fingers onto the broken wooden planks.

The halberd tumbled more than a dozen times in the air before landing with a thud on the edge of the arena. The shaft was deeply embedded in the wood, and the end of the halberd vibrated with a buzzing sound.

Xu Chu had already sheathed his sword, as if nothing had happened.

On the floor in front of him was a deep knife mark, stretching from the center of the ring to the edge, its cut as smooth as a mirror, half a foot deep.

On the high platform, nine chairs made a soft sound at the same time, as nine important figures sat up straight.

Grand Commandant Zhou Jing tightened his grip on the bamboo staff slightly, his knuckles turning faintly white.

"This strike," Zhou Jing said slowly, his voice no longer as relaxed and casual as yesterday, but carrying a complex tone of scrutiny and shock, "is not something a third-rank clerk could use, or even a fourth or fifth-rank clerk could use."

He turned to look at Zhou Qian, his eyes flashing with a sharp light. "Your Majesty, this boy is definitely not a third-rank official. Judging from the power and speed of his strike, I would conservatively estimate that he is at least a sixth-rank official, or even higher."

Zhou Qian remained silent.

His gaze was fixed on Xu Chu, and a sharp glint flashed in his phoenix eyes.

A sixth-rank or even higher martial artist, who had been hiding in the Imperial Guard for who knows how long, pretending to be a third-rank martial artist, would probably have continued to hide if he hadn't been forced to reveal himself in today's competition.

This forbearance, this restraint, this unfathomable strength—is he truly loyal, or does he have ulterior motives?

Grand Tutor Kong Yan, twirling his prayer beads, suddenly chuckled softly, his tone carrying a hint of worldly wisdom: "Interesting. A centurion surnamed Xu, a palace guard surnamed Dian, and a light-footed martial arts instructor surnamed Zhan—all three are from the Imperial Guard Battalion, and all three have concealed their cultivation. Your Majesty, this is probably no coincidence."

Qin Wu's face darkened.

His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of the chair, the rhythm slowing down until it finally stopped.

He suddenly stood up, walked to Zhou Qian, bowed and clasped his hands, his voice cold and stern: "Your Majesty, the origins of these three are suspicious. I request that you thoroughly investigate their entry records, hometowns, and lineages in the Imperial Guard, and get to the bottom of it."

The atmosphere on the platform suddenly became tense.

The eyes of the nine senior officials all turned to Zhou Qian, awaiting the emperor's decision.

Zhou Qian remained silent for a long time, so long that the cheers from below the stage gradually quieted down, and people seemed to notice the strangeness on the platform.

Then Zhou Qian smiled.

The smile was fleeting, yet it carried an indescribable meaning.

He didn't directly respond to Qin Wu's request, but instead turned to Zhou Jing, his tone as casual as if asking a casual question: "What does the Grand Commandant think?"

Zhou Jing stood up, leaning on his bamboo cane, and walked to the edge of the platform, looking down at the tall and composed figure on the arena.

Xu Chu had already sheathed his sword and was walking off the stage at a leisurely pace, as if his earth-shattering strike was nothing more than casually chopping a piece of firewood.

The old Grand Commandant stared at his back for a long time before slowly turning around.

"Your Majesty, this old minister believes..."

His voice was deep and powerful, “Who cares about his origins? A tiger should be eaten, and a knife should be used to kill enemies. We can investigate his origins slowly, but we can’t let people’s hearts grow cold. I brought my bamboo cane today because I want to select generals. This Xu Chu, I want him.”

Upon hearing this, the entire stage fell silent.