Chapter Six: The Assessment Battle, Chang Feng's Counterattack

Dong Changfeng stepped through the mountain gate, and suddenly the space before him opened wide—a vast plaza stretched into view. He saw a sea of people, a dense crowd of youths bustling about, all gathered to participate in the assessment.

They wore bright, vibrant garments that shimmered under the sunlight, their laughter ringing out like cheerful birdsong. Every gesture they made was infused with confidence.

Many adorned exquisite ornaments that caught the light, revealing noble origins at a glance. Dong Changfeng sensed that the spiritual energy emanating from many of them was far stronger than his own, like a surging tide compared to a trickling stream—undeniable geniuses blessed with superior spiritual roots.

Unconsciously, he touched his coarse, rough-spun robe; the scratchy fabric stirred a mixture of envy and self-doubt within him.

At the center of the plaza stood a towering test platform carved from white jade, glowing softly with a moonlight-like radiance that gently spilled onto the ground.

Beneath it, the steward Wang sat upright, his stern expression as cold and unyielding as a stone cliff. His gaze swept over the crowd like a piercing arrow, and with an arrogant tone declared, "This assessment consists of three parts. The first: testing spiritual root strength!"

At his command, the examination commenced. One by one, disciples stepped onto the platform, placing their hands upon the test stone. The stone shimmered with dazzling, multicolored light, like fireworks bursting across a night sky, each hue signifying a different grade of spiritual root.

Dong Changfeng stood at the back of the line, his eyes fixed on the brilliant glows emitted by those ahead, the brilliance almost painful to behold. Anxiety crept into his heart.

When his turn arrived, he took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, striving to steady himself as he laid his hand on the test stone.

A hum sounded softly—then a flicker of light appeared—but it was only a faint white glow, as weak and fleeting as a firefly’s flicker in the dark. Whispered murmurs and mocking laughter rose immediately, sharp as needles piercing his ears.

"Look, isn’t that the useless root Dong Changfeng? Just as useless as ever, no progress at all."

"A common root trying to cultivate immortality? What a fool's dream!"

"With that level, better to go home and farm early!"

A burning heat flushed his face, as if struck hard across the cheek, the sting making his skin flush fiercely.

He clenched his teeth so tightly they ached, struggling to steady trembling hands slick with sweat. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, slowly trickling down, tickling his skin.

Wang the steward glanced disdainfully at the faint light on the stone, his cold eyes like a biting winter wind. Impatiently, he waved a hand. "Next!"

Dong Changfeng silently stepped down from the platform, his footsteps heavy as if weighed with lead, his heart filled with disappointment and unwillingness. "Could it be… that I truly am unfit for cultivation?" A faint voice echoed deep within him.

He hung his head low, wilted like a frostbitten eggplant. The jeers buzzed around him like relentless mosquitoes, their words sharp as blades piercing his heart.

He withdrew to a shadowed corner of the plaza, his figure desolate, as though abandoned by the entire world. Around him, the lively crowd’s laughter and chatter echoed—so bright, so vibrant—yet he felt utterly out of place, like a drop of ink spilled into a kaleidoscopic palette, jarringly incongruous.

---

To his ears, the clamor of the plaza now sounded like scornful taunts, battering his eardrums. Though sunlight bathed his frame, it brought no warmth; instead, a biting chill seeped through his clothes as the cold wind crept in.

Suddenly, a warm hand rested on his shoulder, the heat radiating through fabric and skin. Dong Changfeng lifted his head and saw Zhao Er’s honest, simple face.

"Changfeng, don’t lose heart!" Zhao Er’s voice brimmed with encouragement. "I know you’re no ordinary root—you’re stronger than all of them!"

Zhao Er’s words were like a beam of warm sunlight piercing the gloom in Dong Changfeng’s heart.

"Brother Zhao Er…" his voice choked with emotion, an inexplicable surge of strength welling within him.

He recalled the tattered cultivation manual, the strange techniques he had practiced tirelessly day and night, the solemn vow he had once sworn.

A stubborn flame of defiance kindled within his soul. Clenching his fists, he could feel their power, and his eyes rekindled with hopeful light.

"Thank you, Brother Zhao Er!" Though soft, his voice carried newfound strength.

"I’ll show them what I’m truly capable of!" He remembered a special technique recorded in the manual—one that could conceal the fluctuations of his spiritual energy.

Silently, he began to circulate his energy, following the manual’s instructions to mask his aura.

"Second test: combat!" Wang the steward’s impatient voice rang out again.

The noise in the plaza gradually subsided, and all eyes turned toward the central arena.

Dong Changfeng inhaled deeply and stepped onto the stage. Each step was heavy with resolve; his gaze fixed firmly on the opponent before him.

The adversary was a burly youth, his body radiating a fierce spiritual energy like blazing flames.

"Kid, I advise you to surrender now, save yourself the humiliation!" the burly youth sneered contemptuously.

"Heh," Dong Changfeng chuckled coldly, "Who wins or loses remains to be seen."

A mischievous smirk curled at the corner of his mouth—"Just you wait and see."

As the gong sounded, Dong Changfeng shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, his speed astonishing. His form blurred into a phantom streak, a gust of wind rushing past ears.

Before the burly youth could react, Dong Changfeng had circled behind him and executed a sweeping kick that sent the opponent crashing to the ground.

---

The earth shook thrice with a thunderous boom, dust swirling through the air with a pungent scent.

That kick carried the fruits of years of grueling training—power like a roaring tide that knocked the burly youth off his feet on impact. Dong Changfeng felt the sharp collision as his leg struck the opponent’s body.

Seething with shame and anger, the youth scrambled up and lunged at Dong Changfeng, but Dong’s movements were ghostlike, elusive.

He danced effortlessly, dodging every attack as if foreseeing each strike.

Seizing the moment, Dong Changfeng threw a punch, the wind howling like a wild beast’s roar, striking the youth’s abdomen precisely.

The youth was blasted backward like a cannonball, crashing heavily to the ground, howling in pain. His cries echoed sharply across the now silent arena.

The surrounding laughter faded, replaced by a swell of astonished murmurs.

In the following bouts, Dong Changfeng seemed unstoppable, executing dazzling maneuvers with ease. His opponents were like paper before him, utterly defenseless.

His agile form, fierce offensives, and confident smile earned him newfound respect, especially from steward Wang, whose eyes widened in disbelief, his jaw nearly dropping.

"This… how is this possible?" he muttered, as if witnessing a miracle.

In the end, Dong Changfeng stood victorious on the podium, head held high, basking in the cheers and admiration.

Sunlight bathed him, as if gilding him with a golden aura. Around him, ribbons of spiritual energy danced like colorful streamers—the symbol of his glory.

At that moment, his silhouette resembled a deity descended among mortals. Those who had once mocked him now looked up in awe and envy. Dong Changfeng’s gaze swept over the crowd, proclaiming silently to all: he was no longer the despised youth with a worthless root.

He savored this moment of triumph, his heart brimming with pride and joy. The past ridicule and disdain had transformed into reverence and envy. The feeling was exquisite.

Yet just then, a figure cloaked in gray robes, emanating an ethereal aura, descended from the sky, landing before Dong Changfeng.

The elder’s piercing gaze appraised him thoroughly, a mysterious smile playing upon his lips.

"Young one, you are impressive. Come with me," the elder said calmly, his tone carrying undeniable authority.