“Clang! Clang! Clang…”
Five massive iron cauldrons shook with each strike, making a deep, echoing noise like a heavy drum.
“Martial Disciple, Level Five…”
Bernard Storm stared at the trembling cauldrons, fists slowly clenching. His face was cold, but deep in his eyes, unwillingness burned.
“No change… just as I feared.”
In front of the testing cauldron, a middle-aged man in tight combat garb glanced at the swaying iron before sighing silently. He shook his head with a trace of regret and then shouted across the training ground, “Bernard Storm, still at Level Five!”
The words hadn’t even faded before murmurs broke out across the field.
“Heh, just like I said. A whole year and still stuck in the same place!”
“Hah! They used to call him a genius? What a joke. Five years and not even one level up. He’s worse than most of us now, a complete failure.”
“Shame… Started training at ten, and in just two and a half years, he hit Level Five. That speed, even in Qingyang City—hell, even in the entire Ji Empire—was rare. Back then, he was the center of every crowd. Now? Look at him. Five years with nothing to show. What happened? Did the heavens curse him?”
“Who knows. If you ask me, Bernard’s never getting back to what he was…”
The mocking and pitying voices kept pouring in. Each word hit like a dagger to the chest. His cheeks drained of color, stung as if someone had slapped him.
Bernard slowly lifted his head, pale face tight, lips pressed into a stubborn line. Those dark eyes swept over the arena, catching every condescending glance. Every step he took back to his spot in line felt like he carried a mountain on his back. He moved heavily, out of sync with the world around him. Isolated. Alone.
“Next, Derek Storm!”
“Here!”
A clear voice rang out as another youth strode from the crowd.
The moment he stepped forward, the talk died down. Every eye turned, focused, filled with envy.The young man was about the same age as Bernard Storm—seventeen or eighteen. Sharp brows, bright eyes, moving with the confidence of a predator. Every gesture radiated pride. When he looked around, some girls in the arena couldn't help but let out soft gasps, eyes shimmering, cheeks flushed. Their earlier sneers and scorn vanished, replaced by infatuated stares and admiration.
"Five years ago... they looked at me like that too..." A flicker of pain passed through Bernard's eyes. His fists clenched tighter.
Derek Storm stepped up before the testing cauldron. He glanced through the crowd at the solitary figure, the corner of his mouth curling in scorn. With a sharp shout, he drove his right fist into the iron cauldron.
Boom! The cauldron flew, struck the second with a loud clang, which then hit the third, one after another, until the seventh cauldron trembled and finally settled.
"Good! Very good! One more level again this year," the tester called out, a wide grin on his face as he raised his voice for all to hear, “Derek Storm, Martial Disciple, Seventh Layer!”
As the result echoed out, Derek slammed his fist in triumph, chin lifted high with smug pride.
“Seventh Layer! That’s impressive. At this pace, he’s not far from becoming a warrior.”
“Yeah, sure, he didn’t leap across levels like Bernard did back then, but he’s been steady—one level a year. In two years, he’ll break through.”
“No wonder he’s called an elite of the clan…”
The crowd’s voices buzzed with envy and flattery, paired with mocking whispers directed at Bernard. Derek’s smirk widened. His eyes locked on the lone figure again, then he strode straight over, chin high.
“Oh, still clinging on, ‘Great Genius’?” he said, the title dragging with heavy mockery.
Bernard’s face went a shade paler. He slowly raised his head, meeting Derek’s mocking eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his face turned a bit green.
People didn’t talk to Bernard much these days—he rarely spoke. But those close to him knew he wasn’t slacking. He threw himself into training every waking moment. Still… no breakthrough. Still trapped. Under these conditions, being called the “Great Genius” cut like a blade.
“What’s wrong? Still unwilling to accept it?” Derek sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. “Doesn’t matter. No matter how much you resist, it’s pointless. Your branch is doomed to stay stuck at the Fifth Layer.”
