Three days later, the academy training field was filled with students.
Before the moonblade assessment, there was still one class.
The martial arts instructor stood in the center of the field, his upper body bare, bronze skin covered with old scars. Before him was a wooden puppet.
"When an enemy attacks with a swinging fist, lower your body and dodge," he said. "Do not only retreat. Dodge and counterattack at the same time."
The wooden puppet's fist swept toward him.
The instructor squatted, avoided the blow, then struck the puppet's abdomen with a clean punch. The puppet shook and fell back.
Most students watched without much interest.
Their minds were already on the next class.
Today was the Moonlight Gu usage assessment. Compared to fist techniques, moonblades were brighter, sharper, and more attractive to young Gu Masters.
Fang Ming, however, listened seriously.
Moonblade attacks consumed primeval essence. In a real fight, a Rank one Gu Master could not throw them without limit. Once primeval essence ran low, fists, footwork, dodging, and distance would decide life and death.
The instructor's lesson was not beautiful.
But it was useful.
Fang Ming remembered several points.
Do not stare only at the enemy's eyes.
Watch the shoulders.
Keep the legs ready to move.
Distance was defense.
Do not lose balance when attacking.
Simple things.
But simple things often became important when one was close to death.
After the martial arts lesson ended, the atmosphere in the field changed immediately.
The academy elder arrived and looked over the students.
"Today, I will examine your Moonlight Gu practice. Five students will step forward at a time. Each person has three chances to attack the grass puppet."
The students became quiet.
Not far away, a row of grass puppets stood before the bamboo wall.
Soon, the first group stepped forward.
Moonlight gathered in their palms. Pale blue blades flew out one after another. Some vanished halfway, some missed completely, and only a few struck the puppets.
The academy elder's expression did not change much.
"Practice more," he said after the first group finished.
Several students lowered their heads and returned.
Fang Ming watched silently.
Three days of practice had separated the students quickly.
Those with resources had more chances to train.
Those with higher aptitude had more primeval essence to waste.
Those with neither could only rely on luck and a few poor attempts.
This was the Gu World.
Even practice was not fair.
After several groups, Gu Yue Mo Bei stepped forward.
He looked confident.
His first moonblade struck the puppet's chest.
The second also hit.
The third cut into the puppet's shoulder.
Three hits.
The students whispered in admiration.
The academy elder nodded. "Not bad."
Mo Bei stepped back with a proud expression.
Soon after, Fang Zheng's turn arrived.
Many eyes turned toward him.
Fang Zheng took a breath and raised his palm. The crescent mark appeared, blue light gathering.
His first moonblade flew out.
It struck the grass puppet's neck.
The students immediately exclaimed.
"A neck hit!"
"As expected of A-grade talent!"
But Fang Ming saw Fang Zheng's expression.
That strike had not been fully intentional.
Fang Zheng had aimed for the chest, but tension changed the angle. The result looked better than the process.
His next two moonblades were steadier. Both struck the puppet's chest.
Three hits.
A good result.
The academy elder nodded again.
Fang Zheng stepped back, but his expression did not relax. He looked toward the remaining students, clearly waiting for Fang Ming's result.
Then Fang Ming's group was called.
Fang Ming walked forward and stood before a grass puppet.
His breathing slowed.
For three days, he had practiced carefully. He had used primeval stones, controlled his recovery, and kept his hidden advantage from showing too much. He did not expect perfection, but he expected a result.
He raised his right hand.
The Moonlight Gu moved to his palm.
Blue light condensed.
First blade.
Swoosh.
The moonblade flew straight and struck the puppet's chest, cutting deeply.
Second blade.
This one was faster. It hit near the shoulder, closer to the neck than the first.
Fang Ming adjusted his wrist.
Third blade.
The blue crescent shot out and landed on the puppet's neck.
The cut was deep.
For a moment, the puppet's head tilted slightly, but it did not fall. Soon, grass fibers began to twist together, slowly healing the wound.
The training field became quiet for a breath.
Then the students began whispering.
"That was close."
"He almost cut off the head."
"Fang Ming's control is better than Fang Zheng's."
The academy elder's eyes showed approval.
"Good. Your control is stable, and your aim improved quickly."
Fang Ming cupped his hands and stepped back.
Second place was not yet decided, but he already knew he had surpassed most students.
He was satisfied with this result.
Not proud.
Satisfied.
His three days of practice had not been wasted.
Only the last group remained.
Fang Yuan stepped forward with them.
The first moonblade he released flew too high, passing above the grass puppet and disappearing beyond the bamboo wall.
Several students laughed.
Fang Ming stood among the crowd and watched calmly.
He did not laugh.
The second moonblade came immediately after.
Then the third.
The two blue crescents flew one after another, smooth and fast, their distance close. Both struck the puppet's neck almost at the same point.
The grass puppet's head fell.
The laughter stopped.
The training field went silent.
Even the academy elder frowned slightly, as if judging whether it was luck or skill.
After a while, he announced the result.
"First place, Gu Yue Fang Yuan."
The students reacted with disbelief.
"Again?"
"He is only C-grade…"
"How did he do that?"
The academy elder continued, "Second place, Gu Yue Fang Ming."
Fang Ming's expression did not change.
"Third place, Gu Yue Mo Bei."
Mo Bei's face darkened slightly.
Fang Zheng stood in the crowd, silent. He had hit all three, but he was not in the top three. His fists slowly clenched inside his sleeves.
The ten primeval stone reward went to Fang Yuan.
Fang Ming did not care too much about losing the reward.
The result had shown him something more useful.
His aptitude, resources, and discipline could bring him close to the top among students. But real combat control was different. It was not only about having enough primeval essence or practicing more.
Timing.
Angle.
Calmness.
Judgment.
These were things that came from experience.
Fang Ming looked at the grass puppet whose head had fallen to the ground.
His own third strike had nearly succeeded.
Nearly.
That single word was the gap.
He had copied aptitude.
He had copied the Liquor worm.
But he had not yet copied true battle experience.
The next monthly copy had already found its direction.