Chapter Eighteen: Triumph in the Assessment, Pinnacle of Glory

The giant axe descended, wreathed in a violent gust of wind. Dong Changfeng dodged by a hair's breadth; the blade whistled past the tip of his nose, and he could feel the chilling icy aura, as if the scythe of death had grazed his skin, leaving his nose tingling with cold.

"Damn, this is way too intense!" he couldn't help but curse, throwing himself into a backward roll to put some distance between them.

The virtual enemy’s attack speed was astonishing, each strike carrying the force of total destruction. Dong Changfeng could only scramble for his life, like a rabbit pursued by a cheetah. He could hear the shriek of the giant axe tearing through the air—a sound like a sharp whistle that made his ears ache. The floor was pitted with deep craters from the axe’s impact, and the flying shrapnel stung his body, a searing pain as if countless fine needles were piercing his skin at once. He felt like a lone boat in a raging storm, vulnerable to being swallowed by the waves at any moment.

"This assessment is absolutely insane!" he groaned inwardly, yet his eyes burned with an unyielding flame.

Dong Changfeng attempted to counterattack with the sword techniques he had learned, but his strikes landed on the virtual enemy like pebbles thrown into the sea, unable to stir even a ripple.

"Is that it?" the virtual enemy sneered, the sound like a freezing gale blowing into Dong Changfeng’s heart as it swung the giant axe with renewed ferocity. "Kid, I thought you were something special, but you’re just all show!"

The mockery pierced his heart like a dagger. Dong Changfeng gritted his teeth, a surge of intense rage rising within him; his teeth ground together, the faint, rhythmic scraping echoing inside his mouth. "I am not so easily defeated!" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He began to observe the enemy’s movements closely, searching for a flaw. While the enemy’s attacks were powerful, they seemed somewhat rigid, lacking variation. Born into poverty and accustomed to the cold disdain of others, Dong Changfeng knew that his only chance to rise in the world was to earn recognition through his own efforts within the sect. This assessment was a crucial step toward entering the inner core, and he would not permit himself to fail.

He analyzed the situation, his eyes locked onto the enemy’s movements, letting no detail escape. He sought a rhythm in the repetitive barrage of attacks, silently memorizing the whistling wind of every swing and the timing of every pause.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind. "Could it be..."

"Do or die!" He lunged toward the virtual enemy, shouting, "Do not look down on a young man just because he is poor!"

Dong Changfeng dodged the horizontal sweep of the axe, but the wake of the blade still grazed his left arm, tearing a bloody gash. "Hiss—" He drew in a sharp breath, the searing pain from the wound clear as blood instantly stained his sleeve.

The virtual enemy struck with ruthless intent, aiming for his life with every blow. Dong Changfeng was utterly exhausted; his lungs felt as heavy as lead, and every breath felt like working a bellows, the ragged sound of his gasping echoing in his ears. Yet, he held his ground, his swaying frame like a blade of grass in a hurricane, stubbornly refusing to fall.

"Is that all you’ve got? I thought you were some kind of expert!" the virtual enemy mocked again, its tone dripping with contempt. "Just give up and save yourself the agony!"

Dong Changfeng wiped the blood and grime from his face and flashed a grim smile. "Give up? Never!" He gripped his longsword so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the aching in his hand a constant reminder not to falter.

"If you won't drink the toast of friendship, you'll drink the forfeit of punishment!" the virtual enemy roared, raising the giant axe high to deliver the final blow.

In this moment of life and death, a flash of inspiration struck Dong Changfeng. He recalled an ancient combat technique he had once read about in an old book called the "Reverse Scale Slash," said to allow the weak to defeat the strong and turn the tide of battle.

"It’s now or never!" Dong Changfeng took a deep breath and channeled every last drop of his spiritual energy. He could feel the power surging through his meridians like a rushing river. As he focused it into the tip of his sword, the blade began to emit a blinding light. The surrounding air seemed to ignite, growing hot and heavy with an invisible pressure that felt as if time itself had frozen.

The virtual enemy faltered, taken aback by the sudden change in tactics. "What are you up to?" it frowned in confusion, yet it swung the axe down without hesitation, the force of the blow like a torrential storm, driving straight toward Dong Changfeng.

"You’re finished," Dong Changfeng whispered, excitement flickering in his eyes. He leaped forward, his body shooting toward the enemy like an arrow from a bow. The longsword traced a brilliant arc through the air, and the spiritual energy gathered at the tip erupted into an unstoppable sword aura.

"Reverse Scale Slash!" Dong Changfeng shouted. In an instant, the entire assessment room was flooded with dazzling light. The sword aura, like a roaring dragon, struck the virtual enemy’s weak point with world-shattering force.

Before this overwhelming power, the giant axe was as fragile as a twig, instantly shattered by the sword aura. A deafening roar filled the room, and the very space seemed to tremble. The aura pierced through the axe and slammed into the virtual enemy’s chest, sending it flying dozens of meters back.

As it collapsed, the enemy’s body shook violently. It tried to rise again and again, only to find itself completely immobilized, as if bound by an invisible, crushing force. Dong Changfeng seized the opportunity, lunging forward with a flurry of lightning-fast strikes, each hit landing precisely on the enemy’s vital points.

The virtual enemy let out a final, piercing shriek before dissolving into a cloud of light. The virtual environment of the assessment room dissipated, returning to its original silence. Dong Changfeng was covered in wounds, but his eyes shone with unwavering resolve. He stood where he was, taking a deep breath, a sense of profound accomplishment washing over him.

"You actually did it!" The doors to the assessment room swung open, and the sect’s proctor elder walked in, looking stunned. He scrutinized Dong Changfeng, his voice thick with excitement. "Your performance exceeded all my expectations. You are the first disciple to successfully complete this special assessment!"

Outside, other disciples flooded into the room. Their Senior Brother Liu and Senior Sister Lin stood by with grim, resentful expressions. Dong Changfeng stood in the center, radiant and spirited, the focus of everyone’s attention. He wiped the blood from his face and offered a confident smile.

Just then, the proctor elder approached and patted Dong Changfeng on the shoulder. "Young man, your performance was truly remarkable. There is a sealed, secret heritage within the sect. Are you interested in exploring it?" he asked softly.

"A secret heritage?" Dong Changfeng’s heart hammered against his ribs; he could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins. He took a deep breath and nodded firmly.

"Of course! I will go!"

The elder nodded. "Very well, but the path will not be easy. Many have coveted this heritage for a long time; you must be mentally prepared." With that, he turned and left, leaving Dong Changfeng standing there, filled with both anticipation and apprehension for the future.

Dong Changfeng watched the elder’s retreating back, his fists clenched and his gaze steady. He exhaled slowly, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

"Secret heritage, here I come," he whispered, his voice brimming with determination.