With a Fierce Tiger in the Heart, Raise the Blade and Strike

Wang Xian walked over to the weapon rack.

These training weapons—whether in weight or material—were the real deal.

Most just hadn’t been sharpened.

Since they were meant for student practice, they couldn’t be considered true combat gear.

“Technique…”

Wang Xian’s gaze fell on a spear, his eyes softening as if recognizing an old friend.

Indeed, in his past life, he had wielded a spear.

As the saying went: A month to master the staff, a year for the blade, a lifetime for the spear—the sword stays by your side.

Among the three primary weapons—sword, blade, and spear—spear techniques were the hardest to master.

As the deadliest weapon of ancient battlefields, the best way to hone spear skills was through countless battles.

Back then, he’d trained with the spear because he’d already resolved to enter the alien battlefield.

Decades of slaughter on that battlefield had honed his spear techniques to the Tenth Stage.

Of course, with his current body, replicating that level of skill was impossible.

Breaking through to the next realm of spear mastery was also out of reach—it required at least the Eighth Stage strength of his past life.

Apart from the spear, his other specialty was throwing daggers.

As for other weapons, Wang Xian had little experience and had rarely practiced them.

At most, he’d crossed blades with experts who wielded them.

But now…

His eyes lingered on the blades and swords.

The sword was the mainstream martial art for most students—or rather, for most modern warriors in society.

The reason was simple: Dragon Country’s first Martial God had been a swordsman.

The blade, however, was chosen by only a handful of students.

And the spear? Even fewer, unless they planned to join the military.

Otherwise, the entire school might not have more than a handful of practitioners.

As for hammers, axes, halberds, or claw blades—unless one awakened a corresponding martial talent, almost no one would bother with them.

Reborn into this life, Wang Xian naturally wouldn’t choose the spear again.

For him now, there was no room for improvement in spear techniques.

Instead, he might as well take advantage of this growth phase to master one or two new skills.

With his past-life martial insights and combat instincts, it wouldn’t be difficult.

Besides, if he truly used spear techniques, even Instructor Cui wouldn’t last long.

So…

Wang Xian picked up a xiuchundao—a masterpiece of Dragon Country’s ancient bladed weapons.

After modern refinements in hardness, flexibility, and aesthetics, it far surpassed its historical counterparts.

Even this unsharpened training blade exuded a chilling edge, its contours radiating a faint, deadly aura.

“Swordplay emphasizes intent; blade mastery relies on spirit. Nurture the spirit, and you nurture the blade.”

Cui Sanyan’s voice sounded beside him. “In your first two years, you used claw blades. At the start of senior year, you switched to the sword. Now, why the sudden change to the blade?”

Wang Xian had trained with claw blades because his uncle’s martial school specialized in fist techniques.

He’d grown up influenced by that.

In senior year, after receiving that letter, he’d switched to the sword to impress Chen Yuting.

“I just felt like it,” Wang Xian replied.

“The blade is a fierce tiger; the sword, a soaring phoenix. To master the blade, you must harbor a tiger’s spirit in your heart. If you’ve never trained with it, don’t use it for the assessment.”

Cui Sanyan gave him a penetrating look.

Wang Xian shook his head.

Seeing this, Cui Sanyan didn’t press further.

Soon, the class had all chosen their weapons, forming a circle around the arena.

The combat platform didn’t seem large—about the size of a basketball court—but it was packed with cutting-edge tech.

With millisecond-level holographic scanning, every move in a duel would be analyzed, accurately scoring the fighters’ technique levels and even detecting their vitality ratings.

The entire Rongcheng Martial High had only three of these.

“…You’re serious about this?” Zhou Xukun muttered beside Wang Xian.

He fiddled with a short sword in his hands, his eyes flicking toward the arena.

“About what?”

“You’re really going up for the assessment? With a blade?” Zhou Xukun coughed. “Not that I doubt you, but Cui Sanyan’s famous for his zero-tolerance policy. If you can’t even land a single move… it’ll be humiliating.

“This technique assessment isn’t something you can fake.”

It was a live test, after all, combined with the arena’s analysis.

No wonder it was part of the martial exams.

“If I can’t do it, I’ll just try harder next time,” Wang Xian said.

In his mind, he’d already simulated countless bladework scenarios.

For his first real attempt, he had a rough idea of what to expect.

Zhou Xukun blinked. The words made sense, yet something felt off.

Then, Cui Sanyan leaped onto the platform.

“I’ll restrict myself to 1.0 vitality—standard exam protocol.”

The screen above the arena displayed:

[Cui Guoliang – Vitality: 1.0]

As a Third Stage martial artist, he naturally had to suppress his strength for the test.

“Yuan Xin, you’re first.” Cui Sanyan held a long staff, his tone indifferent.

Yuan Xin, gripping a sword, hurried onto the platform.

The screen updated:

[Yuan Xin – Vitality: 0.39]

Almost exactly as Cui Sanyan had estimated.

It showed just how attentive this homeroom teacher was—he knew his students’ capabilities inside out.

“Attack.” Cui Sanyan stood motionless.

Yuan Xin hesitated briefly before charging, thrusting her sword forward.

But Cui Sanyan didn’t even move his staff. A single backhand slap sent the sword flying.

Yuan Xin staggered, nearly toppling off the platform.

“……” The class fell silent.

The gap was too wide.

Even at 1.0 vitality—barely higher than most students—Cui Sanyan’s skill level was insurmountable.

A single move was all it took.

[Yuan Xin – Sword Technique Score: 26]

The score was abysmal, barely scratching the surface of the basics.

But for a humanities-track student, it was passable.

Cui Sanyan didn’t comment, though the sternness in his eyes made everyone sweat.

At least he’d gone easy on Yuan Xin.

“Next!”

“Weak and sloppy. You can’t even grip the sword properly.”

“With 0.3 vitality, you’re not even using half of your potential strength…”

“How many times must I say it? The blade is about spirit. If you can’t even look me in the eye, why bother?”

……

Cui Sanyan dissected every student’s flaws with surgical precision.

He shook his head repeatedly.

Weapons were extensions of the body.

If these kids could barely handle basic fitness boxing, how could they hope to master weaponry?

Becoming a true warrior was never meant to be easy.

Perhaps most were just waiting to awaken a martial talent—hoping for a shortcut to greatness.

The thought left Cui Sanyan inexplicably disheartened.

Most students felt a flicker of shame but weren’t overly discouraged.

As he’d guessed, they were banking on future awakenings.

Only a handful of the diligent ones frowned, reflecting deeply on their shortcomings.

“Cui Sanyan’s on another level…”

Zhou Xukun rubbed his sore shoulders and muttered, "Barely managed to block two strikes..."

Being able to withstand two moves had already pushed his swordsmanship score to 82.

In the class, he was among the top performers.

If he could reach 100, he’d officially step into the First Dan of swordsmanship.

With that level, he’d qualify to learn some of the more advanced foundational sword techniques.

Li Zihang, who followed shortly after, also scored in the 80s.

Unfortunately, no one had yet managed to survive three strikes from Cui Sanyan.

Then again, just forcing Cui Sanyan to draw his sword was an achievement in itself.

That is, until Chen Yuting stepped forward.