The Martial Arts Room was normally off-limits to students on weekends. But today, as a special exception for the martial arts assessment, Ethan Chen used his smart wristband to unlock the mechanically reinforced door. Inside, the space covered roughly a thousand square meters, equipped with various testing devices designed to quantify strength, speed, explosive power, and other physical metrics.
Five students had already arrived, apparently not long before Ethan. Two were dressed in protective gear, ready for combat practice, while the other three were testing their stats on different machines.
This was a world where technology and physical prowess evolved hand in hand. Mere physical strength was no longer enough to survive in this era—technology was indispensable.
The martial arts test wouldn't officially start until 1 PM. As one of the top competitors in his class, Ethan was not about to waste a single minute. He headed to a quiet corner and began his basic training in silence.
Two hours passed without notice. At noon, Little Bear's voice called out from his wristband, "Vitality Milk remaining: one pack. Would you like to consume now?"
Ethan stopped and pulled out a small packet of Vitality Milk, tearing it open and swallowing the nourishing liquid. This supplement contained a small amount of life energy; besides filling hunger, it provided substantial nutrition. Two packs a day was his usual intake. Though small, each pack cost 100 yuan, adding up to a monthly expense of 6,000 yuan.
Ethan's parents earned a combined monthly income of 13,000 yuan. After the Vitality Milk cost, they were left with only 7,000 yuan. They also had a younger son entering junior high and a monthly mortgage payment of 3,000 yuan—leaving almost no savings. Fortunately, both brothers were doing well academically, with Ethan at a top high school and his younger brother at a key junior high.
A sudden laugh echoed above, carrying an over-the-top bravado. Standing before Ethan was Toby Ray, nearly two meters tall, with striking blue eyes—a family trait from their old-country ancestors. His muscular chest pushed out his tank top, and a thick beard framed his broad face.
Without looking up from his rest, Ethan asked, "How'd the cultural exam go, Toby?"
Toby scratched the back of his head with a sigh. "Don't even mention it. This mock exam follows the real gaokao rules. I got 380 on culture, converted to 114."
In high school, students were divided between martial science and cultural science tracks in sophomore year. Martial track students could apply to any university, but cultural track students were limited to culture-based colleges. Both tracks required cultural exams and martial arts tests, each out of 750 points, but the weighting differed: martial students' martial test counted 70%, culture 30%, while cultural students had the reverse.
Ethan nodded. "I wasn't great either, only 30 points ahead of you."
"Toby said, "410? That's pretty good—almost top ten in our class."
Then he laughed. "You've slipped! Last final you scored 430, ranking tenth."
Ethan smiled calmly, radiating quiet confidence.
"Wait... you didn't convert higher than me by 30 points, did you? 144?" Toby's eyes widened.
"Correct," Ethan replied with a raised brow and a despairing look.
"Damn, that means 480 points raw! You beat me by 100 points!" Toby was incredulous. "You can't have been grinding at home every day, right? Remember, the weighting matters!"
Martial track students usually have stable cultural scores in their senior year. Improving 50 points was huge. Most time was spent training, so reading was limited. That's why Toby doubted Ethan's progress.
A 480 raw score was high for martial students but low for cultural ones. Ethan didn't consider himself exceptional—especially struggling with advanced math and spatial physics. He owed his score to rote memorization, as many problems made no sense even with solutions.
The two chatted casually while resting.
At 12:40, they left for another Martial Arts Room. Liang City No. 1 High School had two such rooms. The one they had trained in was the Large Martial Arts Room. The other, half the size but equipped with more precise instruments, was reserved strictly for tests and teachers—the Small Martial Arts Room. Students only trained in the large room, so they often dropped the prefix when talking about the rooms.
Outside the Small Martial Arts Room, hundreds of students gathered, standing orderly by class.
At exactly 1 PM, the heavy double doors slid apart. A bald man in loose black martial robes stepped out. His piercing eyes swept across the crowd like a hawk, causing many to shiver.
This was Ryan Ling. Known to all seniors, Ethan included, Ryan Ling was the homeroom teacher of Hongzhi Class 3-1 and the chief examiner for today's martial arts assessment.
As the martial arts instructor of the elite Hongzhi Class, Ryan Ling was respected for both his teaching and personal prowess. Beyond being a teacher, he was a member of the Warrior Alliance – City Defense Corps, an organization that required a minimum life strength level of 15 to join.
"You all know why there's an extra spot in Hongzhi Class this year?" Ryan Ling's blunt opening silenced the crowd, leaving students on edge.
Indeed, the Hongzhi Class usually only admitted 30 students. Why the sudden increase? No one knew the reason until the school announced it a week ago.
"Sean Xia died. Killed by the Hunter Civilization," Ryan Ling said solemnly, receiving no response.
Sean Xia — the name might not be familiar to everyone, but his ranking was always near the top ten. A handsome young man with blond hair and prospects at one of the eight prestigious universities.
To die silently at the hands of the Hunter Civilization! The society no longer had old national divisions, but instead "civilizations." The Hunter Civilization, from Venus, were rocky lifeforms with only a tenth of human pain sensitivity, skilled in stealth and ambush.
The term "Martial Civilization" referred to humanity's own era and the recognition of humans by other alien civilizations.
"Though I haven't taught you all, I speak as one who's been through it," Ryan Ling raised his voice.
"A Martial Artist is a high-risk, high-reward profession! The average death rate is about 30%, highest among all careers!"
"That's why martial track students can apply to any university. You have until the last month to change your application if you want."
"But we still need Martial Artists in our civilization!"
He paused, "I'm a rational man. I won't discourage you, nor flatter you."
"If martial arts isn't your path, consider cultural universities in your final application."
"Don't risk your life for bravado. Living to reproduce is also a contribution."
Ethan agreed with most of Ryan Ling's words but didn't believe avoiding martial arts guaranteed safety. Sean Xia was a harsh lesson—wars between civilizations had lasted centuries, with over a hundred cities fallen in the Seventh Ecological Sphere alone, casualties numbering in the hundreds of millions.
Ethan tended to be pessimistic and cautious. If disaster struck Liang City, who would protect his family? With a younger brother entering high school next year and the inevitable expenses, Ethan knew becoming a Martial Artist was the only way to both earn money and protect loved ones.
"That's all. I won't keep you. Assessments begin now."
"Starting with Class 3-2, groups of ten. First test is strength. When I call your name, come in."
"Chen Bo, Zhao Xie, Yang Wei..."