Chapter 41: The Azure Phoenix Strikes

"Let these commoners see what real strength looks like!"

Eric Vance stepped out of the formation with a slow, swaggering gait.

He rolled his broad shoulders, tightened the leather wrist guards around his combat uniform, and raised one hand toward the cheering Vance Clan retainers.

The bruises that had covered his face a few days ago were completely gone. In their place was a confident smile that bordered on arrogance.

Eric stopped in front of the black-iron pillar and lifted his chin, looking down at the technicians as though they were beneath him.

He was already a Stage 1 Martial Warrior.

While most of the students here were still struggling with spiritual circulation, he had already condensed a Spiritual Seed within his Soul Sea.

With the Vance Clan’s wealth behind him, expensive medicinal pills supporting his cultivation, and a B-Rank Fire Lion Martial Soul, Eric felt like he was standing among a crowd of insects.

He took his stance.

His legs spread apart, his knees bent slightly, and his right arm pulled back like a tightly wound spring.

Hum...

A wave of heat suddenly rolled off his body.

For a brief moment, the faint outline of a roaring fire lion appeared behind him before disappearing.

The rules forbade external energy projection, but the unstable spiritual power within his newly formed Spiritual Seed was already flowing through his muscles, making his blood burn with an almost violent intensity.

"Break!"

Eric roared as he threw his entire body behind the punch.

BOOM!

A heavy boom shook the tarmac.

The black-iron pillar trembled against its floor mountings, while the reinforced strike pad groaned under the force of the impact.

The digital display flickered wildly.

Then the numbers stopped.

600 KG.

The eastern bleachers erupted.

Cheers, whistles, and shouts crashed together, turning the entire section into chaos.

"Six hundred kilograms! An early-stage Martial Warrior hit six hundred!"

"As expected of Young Master Eric! He’s blown straight past the baseline!"

"What a talent! The Vance Clan really has produced a fierce one this year!"

Eric stood in front of the pillar, deliberately holding his finishing pose for a few extra seconds. He clearly wanted the cameras and spectators to get a good look at him.

After slowly exhaling, he straightened his back and pushed his chest out proudly.

Six hundred kilograms.

According to the standard federal textbooks, a Stage 1 cultivator who broke through after completing a normal Heavenly Cycle would usually produce around 200 to 300 kilograms of impact force.

Eric had doubled that.

To him, there was no question about it. He had already surpassed everyone in his generation.

He turned toward the central waiting area, his arrogant gaze searching the crowd until it landed on Evelyn.

He wanted to see admiration in her eyes.

But up in the high-tier observation box, the reaction was very different.

Several experienced military instructors and clan elders simply shook their heads.

"A hollow strike," an old, silver-haired instructor muttered, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. "Loud, but lacking real depth."

"The boy forcefully condensed his Spiritual Seed after only thirty-six cycles of the Small Heavenly Cycle. His foundation is full of holes. He’s relying almost entirely on medicinal pills and that unstable beast-attribute aura."

"If he ever faces someone who built their foundation through a proper Great Heavenly Cycle, one solid counterattack could be enough to break his wrist."

"Youth is always impatient," the federal colonel beside him said coldly. "He chose immediate glory over a stronger foundation. A pity, especially with a B-Rank Martial Soul."

"He’ll reach his limit long before he ever gets close to the Martial Master realm."

Down on the tarmac, Eric remained completely unaware of their judgment.

He puffed out his chest even further, shot Lucian a mocking glance, and returned to the formation.

"Next candidate."

The chief examiner’s voice cut through the fading cheers, as cold and emotionless as before.

"Student Number 002, Evelyn Sterling."

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Eric’s turn had brought loud cheers and rowdy shouting. Evelyn’s name, however, was met with something completely different.

Silence.

Every head in the bleachers turned toward the edge of the assembly track.

Clan elders leaned forward over the railings. Municipal examiners straightened in their seats. Even the bored military officers in the observation boxes put down their tea cups and looked toward the field.

Everyone knew why.

The legendary S-Rank Divine Beast Martial Soul, the Azure Phoenix.

The first S-Rank awakening Silverwood City had seen in more than fifty years.

Evelyn stepped forward.

She moved with effortless grace, her boots barely making a sound against the tough ground. Her midnight-black combat suit accentuated her tall, elegant figure, while her high ponytail swayed gently with each step.

Her expression remained calm and detached despite the thousands of eyes fixed on her.

She didn’t look toward the cameras.

She didn’t acknowledge the crowd.

She simply walked to the black-iron pillar and stopped.

After a brief pause, she turned sideways.

Unlike the other students, who had spent nearly half a minute adjusting their footing, tensing their bodies, and taking deep breaths to build momentum, Evelyn didn’t bother with any of that.

She simply stood there.

Relaxed.

Calm as still water.

Then, she moved.

Her right arm shot frward.

There was no dramatic windup, no roar, no attempt to intimidate the crowd.

Yet the moment her fist struck toward the pad, the air around her seemed to tighten. A strange, crystalline heat spread through the area, while the faint cry of an ancient phoenix seemed to echo somewhere in the distance.

A soft azure glow flickered across her knuckles.

For just an instant, there was something almost regal about the pressure surrounding her, making the air itself feel heavier.

BANG—!

It wasn’t the dull impact everyone had heard from the previous candidates.

It was a sharp, violent crack, like thunder exploding against a mountain.

The three-meter-tall black-iron pillar lurched backward.

Its reinforced base screeched against the concrete bolts, while a visible shockwave kicked dust across the ground and sent the coats of nearby examiners fluttering.

The digital display flickered.

Once.

Twice.

As if the system itself needed a moment to process the impact.

Then the numbers stabilized.

1,950 KG.

Silence.

Absolute silence descended over the entire central arena.