Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

After reading out all the rewards and rules, Beren looked up at the sky and immediately announced loudly:

"The auspicious time has arrived!"

"Now, I officially declare the Junior Knight Fighting Tournament officially open!"

As soon as he finished speaking, several church personnel in white coats, in addition to Beren, immediately pushed several heavy pieces of machinery onto the stage.

It was a steam detector inlaid with special stones.

Brennan pointed to the equipment and said, "This competition is divided into professional and friendly matches."

The friendly match will be held in the afternoon.

The morning's event was a ranking competition for thirty-two core extraordinary individuals recommended by the eight major clubs, various knightly families, and noble families!

"All participants must be between 15 and 25 years old, and may participate a maximum of three times."

"Now we will begin testing the participants' age, strength, and physical fitness levels!"

Those whose names are called, please come up. After the test, draw your competition order number!

This is an ironclad rule for every combat sports competition, in order to prevent substitutes, fixed matches, and especially seasoned veterans who lie about their age from infiltrating the competition.

"Start with the Silver Hand Club."

As Brennan called out their names, Xiu Kuo and Li An walked out of the crowd with expressionless faces and went up the steps to the fighting platform.

Immediately, a specialist stepped forward, pricked their fingers with a sterilized silver needle, and collected a drop of bright red blood, which was then placed into the groove of the testing instrument.

Then, the staff in white coats injected a light blue alchemical solution using a syringe.

Bubbles began to bubble wildly inside the reagent bottle, displaying different colors and bright spots.

The testers poured the mixed reagent onto the test stone tablet in the center of the instrument.

The next moment, the magic circle at the bottom of the stone tablet lit up, and two beams of light began to slowly rise.

Brenand glanced at the markings on the stone tablet and announced in a calm voice:

"Silver Hand Club, Xiu Kuo."

"Age 24, Strength 9, Physique 9, Overall 18!"

On the stone tablet, two beams of light, one white and one red, were steadily positioned at a distance of nine inches.

A chorus of admiration rose from the audience. Shuang Jiu's stats were already among the best of the best for a first-tier extraordinary individual.

Then it was Ang Lee's turn.

After the potion was poured in, a white beam of energy shot up and reached the top! The red beam of physical energy stopped at the nine-inch mark.

A flicker of surprise crossed Behring's eyes as he loudly announced:

"Li An, age 22, strength 10, physique 9! Overall 19!"

boom!

The entire audience was instantly stunned.

"Twenty is the pinnacle! That means Li An is only twenty-two years old, yet his physical strength has already reached its peak!"

"His physique is only slightly lacking! My God, at the same age, he's already stronger than many seasoned extraordinary individuals in their thirties!"

"The Silver Hand has produced a monster! With a little more training, he'll definitely be the champion in the next tournament!"

Hearing the gasps and praises from the audience, Ang Lee's lips curled into an arrogant smile.

He glanced down at the crowd below, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being admired by thousands.

Li An's stunning statistics seemed to set a very high tone for this brutal fighting match.

Next, other clubs were called up one after another to be tested.

Although these contestants are all geniuses carefully selected by their respective organizations, and their strength and physique can generally be consistently above "eight", their performances seem somewhat lackluster compared to the outstanding ones before them.

Occasionally, the sum of the two values ​​of a gas was only 15 or 16, which drew a chorus of boos from the audience.

In this era that worships strength, weakness itself is a sin.

After several tests, it was Blackthorn Club's turn.

With a blank expression, Béla read out four names: "Colette, Coens, Dieter, Dimina."

The four people took turns stepping forward to drip their blood.

The test results of the first three people were average, with overall scores around 17.

However, when it was the turn of the burly, menacing-looking Cole, the red light on the testing stone suddenly burst forth.

Brennan glanced at the scale, his voice echoing across the square:

"Blackthorn Club, Cole. Age 24, Strength 9, Physique 10!"

"A total of nineteen points!"

The crowd erupted in another wave of shock and uproar.

Following Ang Lee, a second monster with an overall score of 19 has been born!

Moreover, Cole's physique reached a terrifying "ten", which means that his physical resistance to blows and explosive power have reached the peak of a first-order baptized person.

Cole clenched his fist, which was as big as a sandbag, making a sickening cracking sound, and walked off the stage with a fierce expression.

"Next, the Platinum Club," Brendan continued.

The four men, dressed in matching, ornate white uniforms, walked arrogantly onto the fighting platform.

Marshall, who had once been defeated by Siron, stepped forward first. He took a deep breath and dripped blood.

The beam of light stopped rising, and Brenand announced: "Marshall, Strength 7, Physique 9, Overall 16."

This result would only be considered bottom-tier among top geniuses, and a few snickers came from the audience.

Marshall's face was ashen. He gritted his teeth and stepped aside, his fists clenched tightly, his eyes sweeping gloomily toward the direction of the Iron Cross.

The other two people who underwent the test both had excellent overall scores of around 18.

Finally, it was the turn of the Platinum Club's ace, and also the biggest favorite to win this tournament—Rose.

Rose was dressed in an exquisitely tailored tuxedo, as if he were attending an elegant dinner party rather than a bloody fight.

He walked lazily to the testing stone, casually pricked his fingertip with a silver needle, and dripped a drop of blood.

The moment the blood-infused potion was poured into the groove of the stone tablet, the entire tablet seemed to be completely activated!

"Buzz—"

With a muffled buzzing sound, the white pillar representing strength and the red pillar representing physique shot into the sky at an extremely violent speed, crashing into the top mark line without any hindrance!

Ten inches! Ten inches!

A flicker of emotion finally crossed Bérang's eyes. He took a deep breath and announced loudly:

"Platinum Club, Rose! Age 23."

"Strength 10! Physique 10! Both 10, the ultimate level!"

Ross didn't even raise an eyebrow. He simply took out a clean white handkerchief and wiped away non-existent bloodstains from his fingertips, clearly expecting this outcome and not even taking it seriously.

However, a tsunami-like frenzy instantly erupted in the audience!

Countless people below the stage shouted his name at the top of their lungs:

"Ross! Rose! Rose!"

"Incredible! A true pinnacle expert! Without any weaknesses!"

"Born into a privileged family, possessing noble baronial blood, and diligent in his practice, he is humble and kind! He is the embodiment of perfection!"

Listening to the almost blindly worshipful shouts around him, Xiren sat in the rest area, calmly touching his nose, his dark eyes showing no emotion.

Just then, a contestant wearing another club's uniform, who was yawning, came over and casually asked:

"Dude, which club are you with? You're dressed pretty simply."

Without turning his head, Xilun replied calmly, "Iron Cross."

The man paused for a moment, then a hint of undisguised contempt flashed in his eyes.

He turned to look at Ross, who was basking in the cheers of the crowd on stage, and said with a mix of sourness and awe:

"The Iron Cross, huh... No wonder. Look at young master Ross, he's really something."

He is undoubtedly the strongest in this competition, and the number one spot belongs to him.

We're just here to make a appearance, to be there as supporting characters.

Xilun didn't speak; he didn't care what others thought.

He casually asked, "Have you taken the test, bro? What was the overall score?"

The man chuckled and patted his chest smugly.

"I've tested it, and the overall score is 17."

Although they can't compare to those monsters, there's still hope of making it into the top sixteen.

What about you? Haven't taken the test yet?

Xilun shook his head: "Not yet."

Just then, Belon on the stage finally read out the name of the last club.

"Iron Cross Fight Club, Siren".

Upon hearing his name called, Xilun clapped his hands, wiped the sweat on his trousers, and slowly walked out through the back passage, climbing the steps.

The moment he stepped onto the fighting stage, the eyes of tens of thousands of people in the audience were instantly drawn to him.

But unlike the cheers that Ross had enjoyed before, what greeted Xiren was a cacophony of whispers and undisguised mockery.

"Iron Cross Fight Club? That dumping ground that's been at the bottom for five consecutive years?"

"They actually have the nerve to send someone to compete this year? They really don't know what death means."

"This person looks so young, there's not a trace of oppressive energy about him."

There's not much to discuss. The only thing that interests me is whether he'll break the record for the lowest overall score in history.

Someone in the crowd laughed loudly: "I remember the lowest record in the last year was a piece of trash with a strength score of 8, a physique score of 7, and an overall score of 15, right?"

Do you think he'll get a "Fifteen Orphans" today?

Amidst laughter, Xilun arrived at the testing stone.

He expressionlessly extended his finger, letting the man in the white coat prick it with a silver needle and let blood drip out.

After the reagents were mixed, they were applied to the grooves of the test stone tablet.

The entire room fell silent instantly, everyone waiting for a reaction with anticipation of a good show.

A moment later, the magic circle at the base of the stone tablet lit up, and red and white beams of light began to rise extremely slowly.

One inch, two inches, three inches...

The beam of light struggled to climb, as if it might stop at any moment. The audience outside had already begun to boo.

Finally, the beam of light froze completely.

The white beam of energy stopped at eight inches; while the red beam of physical strength pitifully stopped at seven inches.

Looking at the extremely mediocre, even glaringly poor, numbers, Brenand frowned slightly and announced loudly, as if on a whim:

"Silon, age nineteen."

"Strength: 8; Physique: 7."

Overall score... fifteen.

As soon as he finished speaking, the audience burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! It really is the 15th! It's tied the all-time low!"

"That's to be expected. The last-place club can only send players with this much ability."

"What a waste of time. I thought he dared to come up because he had some hidden trump card. Turns out he's just a complete waste."

Hearing the tsunami of mockery around him, Xilun did not feel ashamed and indignant as most people would.

He simply stood there, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Strength level eight, that's about right." Xilun thought to himself, "Although I took the pure water potion and my blood volume increased greatly, I am still a long way from the true limit."

"But... how could my physique only be seven?"

Xiren was very aware of his physical condition.

After being subjected to extreme pressure in the gravity chamber and frantically tempered by the external lightning circulation, his physical strength is now vastly different from what it used to be.

If we take Marshall, whom we've faced before, as a reference, Marshall's physique is a nine.

Originally, without using his trump card, Celen's physical strength was indeed inferior to Marshall's.

But after these months of inhuman torture, his physique is definitely on par with Marshall's, and even slightly better because of his higher bone density.

"It should be at least around nine. Where did things go wrong?"

Suddenly, Xilun had a thought and realized a crucial factor.

"Could it be... that the two unusual talents, 'Coiled Dragon Body' and 'Adaptive Internal Organs,' were simply not detected in the blood test?"

Xilun suddenly realized.

This testing instrument primarily assesses strength by detecting common, extraordinary factors present in the blood.

The coiled dragon patterns within his body are a foreign power deeply embedded in his skin and bones; his adaptive organs have directly altered the pressure-resistant structure of his internal organs.

These special talents, originating from a different species, show absolutely no reaction in blood tests!

"There's only one possibility, otherwise it doesn't make sense." Xilun realized this, and his tightly furrowed brows instantly relaxed.

In the rest area of ​​the Iron Cross Fighting Club, everyone was also taken aback.

Yus's eyes widened, and he rubbed them in disbelief:

"How come you're only fifteen? Xilun can crush iron stakes with his bare hands at the club!"

Aigu was also very surprised, as he vividly remembered the formidable physique that Xilun had displayed when he fought Sislow to the death in the basement.

The muscle density required to withstand a knife's edge couldn't possibly be only a "seven".

Only Lund, sitting at the very front, stared intently at Xiren on the stage, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

Meanwhile, the team leaders and players from other clubs secretly shook their heads and sneered.

"This Iron Cross Fight Club, put aside everything else, is truly courageous."

"They sent someone with a combined score of 15 to embarrass themselves. Aren't they afraid of making the ancestors lose all face?"

"I'm afraid this time, they will once again be in last place without any doubt."

Amidst a chorus of jeers and disdain, Xilun calmly walked up to the staff and received his own match order card.

He carried the black umbrella, walked down the steps from the fighting arena, and returned to the Iron Cross rest area.

His expression was calm and composed, his steps were steady, and his dark eyes were like a stagnant pool, unmoved by the overwhelming mockery from the outside world.

Lund watched him sit down, a faint smile playing on his lips, and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Xilun placed the black umbrella aside, his voice flat and monotone: "How does it feel?"

Lund chuckled softly, his gaze sweeping over the undisguised malicious stares around him:

"As one of the people with the lowest overall score, the gazes you felt..."

Disdain, contempt, neglect, disdain, ridicule, and even merciless sarcasm.

At this point, Lund's eyes sharpened:

"According to my assessment, your physical fitness should be at least around 9."

I don't know what secret you're hiding that made that broken machine only give a score of seven.

Xilun raised his head, meeting Lund's gaze, his tone carrying a chilling stillness and rationality:

"I don't know, but..."

"Teacher, none of that matters anymore."

He slowly opened the race number plate in his palm, on which was written a scarlet number.

"The important thing is the next game."

Number three.

This means that Xiren will play in the third match.