Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Assessment

Si Yan had spent the past couple of days busy transmitting messages to the outside world, inquiring whether anything significant had happened in the royal palace of Yan, whether her maternal grandfather or uncle had been punished, and so forth. She also sent back to her grandfather the intelligence she had gathered here. For once the official third round of the assessment began, there would be little time for such outside communication.

Ye Qianling remembered clearly how Fu Hui had told her that those who failed the third round after passing the first two could return home. But what she was hearing now seemed entirely different. Why wasn’t anyone else saying anything? Why was no one protesting? They all accepted this so obediently, not even a single word of rebuttal?

As Ye Qianling puzzled over this, Ke Li came down a side path and saw the dozen or so people who were about to leave. Though they had made it through two rounds of assessments, they knew that voicing objections at this point was useless and would only invite punishment, so they seethed with silent resentment as they prepared to depart. Ke Li took note of their suppressed dissatisfaction but made no comment until he stood before the group gathered for the assessment. “At your service, Commander,” he announced.

Every shadow guard dropped to one knee in the standard salute, their obedience so overwhelming that even those about to leave were cowed and knelt with the rest, subdued by the sheer force of Ke Li’s presence.

Only Ye Qianling and Si Yan were a beat slow. Seeing everyone else kneel, they glanced at each other, then awkwardly lowered themselves as well.

As Commander of the Western Suburb South Courtyard, Ke Li was sometimes called Chief and at other times Commander—an easy distinction. When only shadow guards were present, everyone addressed him as Commander; in the presence of outsiders or in formal reference, he was known as Chief Ke.

Ke Li immediately noticed the two who were slow to salute. For Ye Qianling, a princess, it was understandable not to kneel at once. But the young man in white drew his particular attention. In his forty-plus years, Ke Li had seen many people, some of whom could be read at a glance. Yet as he eyed the youth who had hesitated, he could glean nothing. His innate instincts told him this was no ordinary man.

After his misstep, Si Yan felt a wave of exasperation—he could have punched himself. Every time he encountered Ye Qianling, something would go awry. And now, he had left an impression on the local commander.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Ke Li addressed them. “To be a qualified shadow guard, the most important thing is confidence in oneself. Without that, how will you ever grow?”

He motioned for them to rise and explained the reason behind the rules.

“For those who chose to enter the third round directly—if you pass, two hundred points will be added to your ranking, in recognition of your courage.”

At this, someone could no longer hold back. After all, the first two rounds were simple—long-distance running, a basic test of martial and literary skills. Anyone halfway competent could reach the third round without facing anything truly fearsome. Now, with this announcement, a wave of protest finally broke out.

“The first two rounds are worth only two hundred points in total. Isn’t this unfair?” a bold young man objected. “What’s the point of the competition, then?” His words clearly struck a chord, for others nodded in agreement, and the previously silent atmosphere erupted into a chorus of murmurs and complaints.

“Oh?” Ke Li’s face broke into a smile, but as the smile grew, so too did the coldness in his eyes—a contrast so stark it startled everyone present.

“Boss,” Qi Shanghe, seeing the situation, quickly stepped forward and whispered a warning. For once, his typically wooden face betrayed a hint of concern.

Ye Qianling was bewildered. Though Ke Li was usually calm, she had never seen him angry. In that instant, even she—accustomed as she was to grand occasions—felt a shiver of apprehension. Perhaps this was the true face of the South Courtyard’s commander: usually silent and unobtrusive, but in reality, a man so formidable that a single change in his expression could silence the entire field.

Ke Li, at Qi Shanghe’s prompt, forced himself to restrain the bloodthirsty edge that threatened to show. His voice returned to its usual steadiness, but as he was about to speak, he noticed the bold young man standing frozen, his face deathly pale with terror.

Seeing this, Ke Li decided to let it pass. “Does anyone else have objections?” he asked. “If you do, feel free to speak up and we’ll discuss it together.”

Not one dared make a sound. Satisfied, Ke Li’s tone softened. “Very well. This is the last chance. If you do not wish to continue to the third round, you may leave now. There will be no turning back afterward.”

Many were still shaken by the atmosphere. Those who had come merely to avoid imprisonment reconsidered, realizing that if they couldn’t guarantee passing the third round, it was better to quit now. The first two rounds had been easy, and this place seemed preferable to prison, but Ke Li’s display made it clear that things here could be far more terrifying.

Si Yan glanced at Ye Qianling, who stood with her head bowed and deep in thought. He knew that she would never leave, nor could she. He pondered how best to interact with her going forward, cycling through several options before, ten seconds later, making his choice.

When the tally was finished, 102 candidates remained. More than twenty were here because their families had committed crimes—not serious ones—and, being young, they had been sent to train as shadow guards. If they failed, they would be sent to the Hidden Court as lifelong slaves. These had no right to withdraw. Many had already been eliminated in the first two rounds and sent to the Hidden Court. For those left, even if the worst outcome was lifelong servitude, they would still strive for any chance.

Fu Hui shot Ke Li a helpless look, shaking his head. He couldn’t blow up at Ke Li in front of so many, but inwardly he was fuming. After years of the South Courtyard’s poor reputation, few had applied. Now, just when they finally had 120 candidates for the third round, Ke Li’s glare had scared off nearly twenty, leaving Fu Hui’s lips trembling with suppressed complaints.

Ke Li, however, was quite pleased with the turnout of over a hundred. Without noticing Fu Hui’s contrasting mood, he stepped aside to let the man in charge of the third round explain the rules.

“We will now proceed to the third round. From this point, there is real danger to your lives—so take care.”

With that, he beckoned the candidates to follow him.

Ye Qianling’s chest throbbed painfully—her meager training over the past days had done little good, and her limbs were sluggish. The heavy dose of anesthetic would take some time to work its way out of her system.

They stopped at a large clearing. The proctor pointed to a large, black-draped box behind him. “This is today’s test. If you can stay inside for one minute, you pass.” With a signal, his assistant pulled away the cloth, and in that instant, the entire assembly was stunned.

That was no mere box—it was a nearly three-meter-square iron cage containing a ravenous tiger! The beast, clearly unfed for some time, began to drool hungrily at the sight of fresh prey. This was no test—it was a death sentence.

“Are you insane? If we go in there, we won’t last a minute—do you want us to be the tiger’s breakfast?” someone cried, their voice trembling with fear.

“What kind of nonsense test is this? I quit!” another spat, turning to leave.

Ye Qianling watched impassively, her gaze locked on the starving tiger. She immediately sought out its weaknesses, considering where she might strike first. The tiger’s hind legs were chained to the back of the cage, its body just able to reach the door, but unable to leave the cage even if the door was opened.

Ye Qianling thought long and hard. Barehanded, lasting a minute would be impossible. But surely they would be given weapons—likely just ordinary swords. For one person, defeating the tiger would be nearly impossible. But if over a hundred people each took their turn, the beast’s stamina would eventually flag. If she could go later in the order, her chances would improve. Her instinct as a veteran of war was not to survive for a minute, but to kill the tiger outright. Only by rendering it immobile could she guarantee her safety.

“If, by chance, any of you manage to kill this tiger, we’ll find you another one elsewhere,” the proctor remarked dryly.

Ye Qianling heard a commotion behind her and looked back to see the would-be quitters being blocked by shadow guards clad in black.

“I recall giving you all a chance to leave,” Ke Li called out to those whose escape had been thwarted. “You didn’t take it. Now, best think of how to survive.”

Ke Li watched the candidates closely. Some thought of escape, some froze in terror, tears streaming down their faces, while others remained calm, quietly plotting their approach. He made no comment on their various reactions.

“All right, let’s begin,” Ke Li instructed the proctor. “Divide them into groups.”

Groups? Hope flickered across the field. They would not face the danger alone—there would be cooperation, and the odds of survival would rise. With the right teammate, they might even breeze through this ordeal.

The tension shifted as the candidates all turned their expectant gazes toward the proctor.