After witnessing the first group’s performance by Mu Cengxiao, Tian Fangfang was greatly shocked and said in a dazed manner: “Junior Sister, did you see that… Our Taiyan Sect truly has hidden dragons and crouching tigers.”

Zanxing comforted him: “There’s no need for self-deprecation. Those like him are in the minority.”

As an outsider reading the story, she hadn’t felt it before, but now that she was truly in the midst of it, Zanxing discovered just how outrageously the author had given the male protagonist his golden finger advantages.

To showcase the male protagonist’s prowess, this level of crushing dominance was simply excessive. Looking again at the disciple who had just been slapped off the stage with a single palm strike, he was already overcome with shame and indignation, covering his face as he fled. After all, being defeated in one move sounded far too miserable.

Immediately after, the second group of disciples took the stage. Zanxing raised her eyes to look in Mu Cengxiao’s direction. Mu Cengxiao noticed her gaze, frowned slightly, then turned and walked to the other end.

Zanxing thought to herself that even without the Xiaoyuan Pearl, Mu Cengxiao still defeated his opponent with a single move in the sect assessment. It seemed the original story’s plot line hadn’t changed due to her transmigration.

She wondered whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

The disciples went up one by one. During these recent days, everyone had been diligently cultivating, each with different cultivation methods. Viewed as an exciting competition, it was quite entertaining and kept the audience watching with great interest.

Tian Fangfang also quickly passed the assessment. His “Jiao-Slaying Art” had already reached the second level. His opponent in this assessment was a female disciple. This female disciple was also young, with cultivation inferior to Tian Fangfang’s. She was knocked off the stage by one of Tian Fangfang’s blade strikes, which severed half of her beautiful hair. The junior sister was so angry that her hands were trembling, while the perpetrator hurriedly apologized in panic: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s my first time, and I didn’t control my strength well. My apologies.”

Zanxing: “……”

Some matches were quick while others were slow. When there was a vast difference in strength, the outcome was decided within ten moves at most. When cultivation levels were evenly matched, each side would display its skills, fighting intensely and spectacularly.

Without realizing it, the disciple reading the lots called out: “Group thirty-six, Yang Zanxing, Feng Hu.”

Zanxing took her staff and walked onto the competition platform.

In the distant pavilion, Yueguang Daoren was startled: “She’s using a staff?”

“Senior Brother, what’s wrong with using a staff?” Xuan Lingzi didn’t understand.

Yueguang Daoren gently stroked his long beard and pondered: “Since ancient times, when female cultivators choose weapons, very few select staves. It’s really because it doesn’t look very elegant. Long swords are graceful and can be worn at the waist. Golden sabers are heroic when held in hand. Silk ribbons are soft and beautiful, dancing gracefully, and can even serve as decoration when not in use. But if it’s a staff… carrying it on the shoulder always has a somewhat inelegant appearance.”

Xuan Lingzi disagreed: “But she chose the ‘Qing E Nian Hua Gun,’ so she can only use a staff.”

Yueguang Daoren’s voice caught: “What did you say?”

“That little girl,” Xuan Lingzi looked toward the young woman on the competition platform, “In the martial arts hall, she found the ‘Qing E Nian Hua Gun.'”

On the competition platform, Zanxing looked at her opponent.

This was a burly middle-aged man, tall and robust. Honestly speaking, he didn’t much resemble a cultivator, but rather looked like the legendary hero who fought tigers. With thick eyebrows and large eyes, a square face, he possessed quite a domineering aura. Though wearing the standard gray robe, he also wore a string of tiger teeth around his neck—whether real or fake was unclear—giving him a fierce appearance at first glance.

The tip of the long spear at his side was crafted in the shape of tiger claws. Probably as large as a human head, the claws were sharp as blade points, making one’s heart skip a beat just looking at them.

Seeing this, Duan Xiangrao, below the stage, nestled against Hua Yue and said in a delicate voice: “Junior Sister Yang is unlucky, running into Feng Hu by chance. Feng Hu is not one to show mercy to the fairer sex.”

“Even if he wanted to show mercy to the fairer sex, it wouldn’t be to someone as ugly as her.” Hua Yue pinched Duan Xiangrao’s cheek: “It would be better if this disgusting thing were beaten to death quickly.”

Zanxing paid no attention to the discussions below, merely holding her staff horizontally in front of her body and saying: “Please—”

Her opponent—Feng Hu—made no move, only glanced at Zanxing and impatiently spoke: “One strike of my tiger claw spear and your head will be crushed. Woman, you’d better surrender quickly and save us both time.”

Zanxing replied: “If I surrender just because you tell me to, wouldn’t that be quite embarrassing?” Before her words finished, she charged forward with her staff: “Let’s fight first and see what happens!”

Feng Hu snorted coldly: “Seeking death!” He raised his spear to meet her attack.

This Feng Hu had the same cultivation as Zanxing—both were at the early Foundation Establishment Stage. But he was older after all, with rich combat experience. Compared to a novice like Zanxing, who lacked practical battle experience, the difference was immediately apparent.

Though the Tiger Claw Spear technique wasn’t the most supreme cultivation method in the martial arts hall, it was the most suitable technique for Feng Hu. Sometimes, when the right technique meets the right person, it can unleash unexpectedly powerful results.

The burly man held his spear in one hand, thrusting toward the woman before him. The woman’s movement technique was exceptionally agile, narrowly avoiding each attack. After several exchanges, the disciples below began jeering: “Feng Hu, are you perhaps going easy on this junior sister?”

“He must have taken a liking to her!”

Hearing this, Feng Hu flew into a rage and roared: “Shut up! Who would take a liking to such an ugly monster?” With that, he suddenly circulated his Yuanli. The long spear in his palm seemed to come alive, the tiger claws at the spear tip suddenly swelling dramatically, emanating a ghostly shadow of beast claws.

The most formidable move of the “Tiger Claw Spear” was this technique called Tiger Claw Heart-Ripper. Once locked onto a target by the tiger claws on the Tiger Claw Spear, it was impossible to escape unscathed. Originally, Feng Hu hadn’t planned to use this technique in the first round of assessment, but he was probably angered by the discussions below. Unwilling to admit that he had taken a liking to an ugly woman and to deliberately distance himself, he decided to strike with lethal intent.

The tiger claws rapidly enlarged, seeming to come alive, swaying and curving as they grew within the light and shadow. Just as this enormous beast’s claw was about to strike down toward Zanxing’s face!

“Junior Sister, be careful!” Tian Fangfang shouted until his voice nearly broke.

Feng Hu said disdainfully: “It’s useless, no one can escape my tiger claw…”

Before he could finish saying “spear,” he saw the tiger claw in front of him strike empty air.

Feng Hu was stunned.

The tiger claw had indeed struck down toward Zanxing’s face, but just as it approached the top of Zanxing’s head, it seemed to sink into soft water, swampland, or a quagmire, becoming entangled and unable to be pulled free.

He tried to pull back his spear, but it only sank deeper. Just as he felt something was wrong, a woman’s voice suddenly came from behind him: “Senior Brother, where exactly are you attacking?”

Feng Hu was shocked. The next moment, a tremendous force struck from behind, leaving him nowhere to dodge. With a “splash,” the burly man was knocked violently from the platform, crushing a small section of the ground as he fell.

His eyes red with anger, he looked up at the platform, where he saw the gray-robed woman standing there, staff resting on her shoulder. This action, which should have appeared somewhat crude, carried an air of unrestrained elegance when she performed it.

All around was dead silence.

Zanxing shook her staff and looked down at him: “I yield to your superior skill.”