Chapter 245: Chapter 234: The Draw
"A true Thunder Attribute genius! He generated 530 in fist power with a single punch!"
"Of course. A Thunder Attribute physique is the rarest of them all. We only see one every few decades."
"Still, Bolta and Zhao Lin are incredibly strong as well, just a fraction behind..."
Basang had achieved the highest fist power, and while the crowd was full of praise, they weren’t as stunned as before.
The reason was simple. Basang and Bolta were already famous, and everyone knew their strength was in a class of its own, surpassing all other experts. They were expected to do well.
Zhao Lin, on the other hand, had virtually no reputation outside of Great Yue. For him to suddenly appear and cause such a stir—and at only twenty years of age—was the surprise of all surprises.
An elder from Xiuzhao sighed, "The youth nowadays are incredible. In the assembly during my time, a fist power of 440 would have easily secured first place. Today, that wouldn’t even break the top five."
Another elder agreed, "Isn’t that the truth! In past years, it was rare to see even one person with a fist power of five hundred. This year, we have three. The new generation is truly formidable!"
As the crowd continued to murmur in awe, the twenty-some disciples in the arena proceeded with their fist power tests.
The process was uneventful, with no one else of note.
There was just one small interlude.
The last to go was a disciple from Weizi named Bu Kan. He walked to the Eight-legged Tripod with a deliberate gait, held up his hand as if to measure the distance, then suddenly frowned and walked back the way he came.
Then he walked forward again, and retreated again... After repeating this three times, he still refused to strike the punching target.
"Does this fellow have obsessive-compulsive disorder?"
Zhao Lin sized him up for a moment and recognized him as the same disciple from the stands who had been repeatedly unfastening and fastening his clasps and wiping away sweat with a white handkerchief.
’Obsessive-compulsive disorder is an anxiety disorder,’ Zhao Lin recalled. ’Sufferers strive for perfection and often get bogged down in meaningless trivialities, leading to the formation of rigid routines.’
’For example, when washing their hands, they have to start from the fingertips and wash continuously up to the wrist. If the order is reversed or they’re interrupted, they have to start all over, which wastes a great deal of time and causes immense distress.’
’In my previous life, I had a classmate just like this, so I know a little about OCD.’
Bu Kan’s subsequent actions confirmed this suspicion.
He was seen clenching his fists, muttering something under his breath as he walked.
Zhao Lin pricked up his ears and heard Bu Kan muttering to himself, "Eight steps. No more, no less. Step forward with the right leg when punching. That’s how I’ll get the highest fist power."
"Can’t make a mistake. Not a single step..."
Some in the crowd began to whisper among themselves, and a few snickered. Even the elders were getting impatient.
Elder Gao Yun of Wuzhu coughed and said impatiently, "Stop dawdling! Get on with it and strike the target. You’re keeping everyone waiting!"
"Yes."
Bu Kan replied hastily. After hesitating for a moment, he finally found his footing and threw two consecutive punches.
"Weizi, Bu Kan, fist power of 362."
Looking greatly relieved, Bu Kan took out his white handkerchief to wipe away his sweat...
With the fist power test concluded, a few Lotus Sect attendants bustled about for a while and compiled the rankings.
Basang, Zhao Lin, and Bolta ranked in the top three, all with fist powers above 520, putting them in a league of their own.
Below them, Mai Kun, Li Taiqing, He Liancheng, Muhuali, and Su Mu had fist powers between 420 and 450, forming a second tier.
The fist powers of those ranked ninth to sixteenth were clustered around 390. Huang Guanglie, Xiao Jin, and Yao Chong from Great Yue were among them.
The largest group was centered around a fist power of 300, with many people having the exact same score.
In such cases, their other punch would be compared. If those were also identical, their ranking would be decided by drawing lots.
As the attendants transcribed the rankings, Zhao Lin stood to the side, watching and calculating silently.
’I’m the second seed, so getting out of the group stage shouldn’t be a problem. According to the Martial Assembly’s rules, my opponents in the knockout rounds will be the 31st seed and then the 15th seed.’
’Basang is the first seed, Bolta is the third, and Muhuali is the seventh.’
’If everything goes smoothly, I’ll face Muhuali in the quarterfinals, Bolta in the semifinals, and if I make it to the finals, my opponent will be Basang.’
’I need to pay close attention to these three!’
The attendants copied the rankings onto ten sheets, delivered them to the various viewing stands, and read the list aloud once more.
Upon hearing the results, some in the stands smiled while others’ faces darkened—a classic case of some rejoicing while others worried.
Next up was the group draw.
The Martial Assembly’s schedule was packed, lasting only four days in total.
Besides the bone age inspection and fist power test, the first and second rounds of the group stage matches were also on the first day.
Day two: the round of 32 and the round of 16.
Day three: the quarterfinals and semifinals.
Day four: the final battle.
"Elders, who from your nation will be coming up for the draw?"
A Lotus Sect attendant walked up to the Great Yue viewing stand and asked.
"Sect Leader Lu, please."
The Sect Leaders of the Li Yang Sect and the Southern Suppression Sect said in unison.
The Xingyun Sect had performed remarkably well today, and with their disciple Zhao Lin stealing the show, it was only natural they should receive this honor.
"Then I won’t stand on ceremony."
Lu Chaohuan straightened his robes, stood up, and rubbed his palms together. "Let’s hope I can draw a good lot."
A Sect Leader from each of the five viewing stands walked out and headed to the west side of the training ground for the draw.
In front of the five Sect Leaders, the attendants laid out wooden plaques with the disciples’ names on a table, arranging them in a line from highest to lowest fist power.
They took the first thirty-two plaques and put them into a wooden box marked ’A’; then they took the next thirty-two plaques and put them into a box marked ’B’...
In this manner, all 160 wooden plaques were placed into five boxes labeled A, B, C, D, and E.
The five Sect Leaders then took turns coming forward, drawing one plaque from each of the five boxes and handing them to an attendant. The five disciples on those plaques would form a group.
"Group One: Zhou Yin, Qian Xiangzong, Nu Jin, Jiang Qu, Zhebie."
The attendant announced the names loudly as he recorded them.
The disciples watched from the side, their expressions tense. Each of them hoped to be placed in a weaker group.
Only Basang, Bolta, Mai Kun, and a few others looked relaxed. Confident in their absolute strength, they didn’t care who was in their group.
When it came to the fifth group, the attendant read, "Zhao Lin, Yi Rihao, Huang Zu Xing..."
Upon hearing the name Yi Rihao, Zhao Lin immediately glanced over at the Weizi disciples and saw a sturdy, red-faced man looking back at him with raised eyebrows.
According to the intelligence provided by his Sect Leader, Yi Rihao was a disciple of Weizi’s Flame Sect.
’The Flame Sect!’
Zhao Lin pursed his lips, a cold smile forming in his mind.
’I still haven’t forgotten about the assassination attempt they orchestrated. If I ever run into one of their disciples, I definitely won’t hold back.’
The draw was over in less than fifteen minutes.
The attendant copied the group assignments into five copies and handed them to the five Sect Leaders.
Just then, Elder Ruan of the Lotus Sect came over and addressed the Sect Leaders and disciples, "Everyone, please return for now and take a short rest. The group matches will begin shortly!"
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