Librarian Sheng explained, “It’s likely because they hadn’t overcome the limitations of external cultivation. For ninth-rank external cultivators, the pain of reconstructing tendons and bones is unbearable for most. Many lose the courage to attempt it a second time after the first experience. So, during the second reconstruction, they often try methods to numb their senses to reduce suffering. While this can increase spiritual power to some extent during the process, it’s far from enough. They often forge powerful physical bodies but lack equally strong spiritual power to control them. Even at their limits, they struggle to match ninth-rank internal cultivators. As assassins, there’s another crucial point—insufficient spiritual power and overly cumbersome bodies make it difficult to conceal their whereabouts.”
He sighed, “So when facing internal cultivators of equal rank, their chances of victory are slim. If surrounded by two or more high-ranking opponents, they’d likely face a grim fate.”
“If internal cultivators also reconstructed their bodies, wouldn’t they be even more formidable?” An Jiu asked.
Librarian Sheng habitually twirled his brush, splattering another ink spot on the paper. “Naturally. It’s not that no one has tried, but most who attempted met tragic ends. Without absolute self-control, excessive stimulation can cause internal true qi to run wild, ultimately leading to death by bodily explosion.”
An Jiu noticed Librarian Sheng’s cultivation level wasn’t high, with almost no true qi, so she asked, “Why doesn’t Librarian Sheng reconstruct his body?”
He shook his head decisively, saying matter-of-factly, “I’m afraid of pain.”
An Jiu had met Librarian Sheng several times before, and he was usually in a very casual state, even preferring to use uncertain words like “probably,” “maybe,” and “I guess” when speaking. This was the first time she heard him express something so quickly and decisively. She found him quite interesting.
An Jiu stopped asking and continued reviewing the records.
After examining over twenty files, she discovered that these people’s cultivation methods were all quite similar, essentially reconstructing and tempering the body while practicing various martial arts.
But she still patiently read through all of them.
In the end, she at least summarized one very useful piece of information: apart from internal energy techniques and qinggong-type skills, external cultivators could practice any martial art.
When An Jiu bid farewell, Librarian Sheng was lost in thought. So she left on her own.
Originally, if life could continue like this for a year or so, it wouldn’t be bad. However, things didn’t go as planned. As soon as An Jiu returned to her residence, she received news: there would be a new trial in two days, and everyone should prepare.
An Jiu didn’t take it to heart. After all, in the Crane Control Army trials she had participated in, she seemingly never completed a mission. Various issues always interrupted the trials, so she just needed to focus on staying alive.
At nightfall, several instructors organized a mission briefing and speech at the training grounds.
The moonlight was like silver, and a cool breeze blew through the summer night.
Over a dozen people stood at attention on the training ground, hands behind their backs.
Instructor Tian’s slightly imposing words reached everyone’s ears unhurriedly, “This time there are two targets, so you’ll be divided into the same two groups as last time, operating separately. The targets are suspected to be Liao Kingdom spies, posing as merchants. The locations and route maps will be handed to you before departure. You’ll need to determine for yourselves whether they are indeed spies. Additionally, your performance in each trial will be recorded for evaluation. Those who fail to meet standards will ultimately face execution.”
An Jiu was speechless—apparently, they had no choice but to give it their all.
Instructor Di stood on the martial arts platform without speaking or showing his face, but everyone could sense the resentment emanating from him.
He had been very frustrated lately. Besides not having the opportunity to get close to Mo Sigui for some benefits, other aspects of his life were not going smoothly either.
Instructor Di disliked An Jiu for several reasons: first, Instructor Xuan had lost face because of her; second, her face was too beautiful, which irritated him in various ways; third, Lou Mingyue had offended him more than once, and An Jiu was close to her.
Now there was another reason—he was jealous of An Jiu’s closeness to Mo Sigui, believing she must have gained many benefits.
Instructor Di had the authority to manipulate this trial’s assignments, putting An Jiu at the forefront. But he wasn’t foolish enough to dig his own grave by making an enemy of Mo Sigui… Currently, his main focus is on advancing! He could put on a facade in front of others, making them believe he was at the ninth rank, but in reality, he had been at the eighth rank for many years, just one step away from the ninth, yet unable to cross that threshold.
After Instructor Tian finished speaking, Instructor Di suddenly thought of something particularly amusing and giggled twice, successfully drawing sideways glances from everyone.
He unnecessarily adjusted his perfectly neat hand guards, and cleared his throat, telling himself not to appear too happy, not too happy…
“It’s like this,” he began. “I recalled the last trial when a poor child urgently released all colored signals. I found it both interesting and rather pitiful. Although I don’t think it’s a big deal, rules can’t be broken, so…” He emphasized, raising his pinky finger to push his mask, speaking in a gentle, benevolent tone, “The academy officials decided to deduct points as punishment. Poor child, with no points to begin with and now deducted two points, she’ll have to work even harder!”
Finally, he looked towards An Jiu and singled her out, “Mei Fourteen, don’t worry about the point deduction. I’ve always had high hopes for you.”
The total score for the trials was twenty points. Those like Lou Mingyue, who had won in training and internal trials, all had at least two points. Only An Jiu, who had joined last, still had the initial zero points.
Damn it! What kind of ridiculous rule is this? An Jiu cursed silently. If she hadn’t released the signal, would the Crane Control Army’s rescue have been so swift? No one had even explained the rules to her!
You damned eunuch! An Jiu’s gaze turned cold as she looked at Instructor Di, but she didn’t use any pressure.
Seeing her reaction, Instructor Di’s frustration vanished. He curved his eyes, saying, “What a little darling.”
An Jiu: “…”
“Dismissed,” Instructor Tian said.
Everyone dispersed, some heading to the armory, others to the library.
An Jiu returned to her quarters. Lou Mingyue caught up with her, saying, “Let’s go to the armory. I heard they’re opening access to second-grade weapons this time. With better weapons in hand, we’ll have a better chance.”
The Crane Control Academy’s weapons were divided into four grades, with the lowest being third grade and the highest being zero grade. Last time, they had all used the lowest-grade weapons. For someone like Lou Mingyue, who already possessed an exceptional weapon, going to the armory was mainly to select some usable hidden weapons.
An Jiu nodded and followed her, changing direction.
The two entered the armory side by side. The second-grade weapons storage looked better than before. Last time, weapons had been haphazardly piled up, with dozens of each type. This time, they were neatly placed on wooden racks, and there were relatively fewer of each weapon.
An Jiu went straight for the bows and crossbows. Several dozen bows of various designs were displayed on specialized racks. She casually tried two, finding little difference in power, only some subtle distinctions.
Her gaze swept across the room, landing on an entirely black bow in the far corner. It had no complex design, with slightly upturned ends and a tightly strung bluish-black string.
Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about it, An Jiu felt it was different from the other bows.
She stepped forward and grasped it.
The cold from the black bow seeped into her palm, making her uncomfortable. It was like touching a corpse, or as if the bow was rejecting her. Looking closer, she saw that this bow had only two arrows, also entirely black.
She picked up the bow and arrows, plucking the bowstring with her finger. The resonating sound was like metal and stone.
It sounded quite nice, but using this bow for sniping would immediately reveal one’s hiding spot…
She tried to draw the bow and found it very heavy. When drawn to six inches, it made a sound as if it were about to snap.
So many flaws.
Just as she was about to give up, An Jiu lowered her eyes and saw the name “Dragon-Subduing Bow” written on the rack holding the bow.
Legend had it that the emperor was the true dragon, yet this bow dared to call itself the “Dragon-Subduing Bow”! An Jiu felt it must be extraordinary, so she ignored the various oddities and decisively chose it.
An Jiu slung the Dragon-Subduing Bow across her back and selected a few hidden weapons before preparing to leave.
Lou Mingyue had already chosen her weapons and was waiting at the door.
The official guarding the armory had been squatting at the entrance with his sleeves rolled up. Seeing the Dragon-Subduing Bow on An Jiu’s back, his expression changed.
An Jiu noticed his gaze and stopped, turning her head.
The official was stunned for a moment, then said, “Miss, please choose a different bow.”
“Why?” An Jiu knew the bow had many flaws but wanted to know its history. How could a bow with no apparent advantages have such an arrogant name?
“This bow has been tempered by heavenly fire and is now a dead bow. It can barely shoot arrows anymore,” the official inwardly cursed himself for forgetting to put away this broken bow. Although it was useless, with such a name, if His Majesty found out it had been given out, wouldn’t he punish them?
“Because of its name?” An Jiu asked.