Li Fan stood at the foot of the monumental stone staircase leading up to the Azure Sky Sect gates, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. The sun beat down on his back, but all he could think about was the promised free meal waiting beyond those gates. Other hopeful disciples around him were brimming with determination for immortality and power. Li Fan, however, was primarily brimming with hunger.
He had traveled hundreds of li on foot, hitchhiked on ox carts, and even briefly stowed away in a wagon transporting smelly spirit cabbages, just to reach the sect's entrance examination. The journey was long and arduous, but the thought of endless sect food kept him going. As he climbed the last steps, he could already imagine the steaming buns and sizzling stir-fries in the sect's dining hall. His stomach growled loudly in agreement, causing a few fellow examinees to glance at him. One girl even clutched her sword a little tighter, as if a wild beast lurked nearby.
"Next!" a sharp voice snapped. Atop the staircase, a stern elder with a wiry beard and piercing gaze sat behind a registration desk. He looked like he hadn't smiled since the last century. In front of him, a quivering young man attempted to demonstrate some rudimentary sword form and accidentally flung his sword straight into a bush. The elder raised an eyebrow so high it nearly left his forehead, then scratched the young man's name off a scroll. "Fail. Next!"
Li Fan gulped. He wasn't worried about demonstrating martial prowess, he had none. What he did have was a deep knowledge of food and a chaotic streak of luck. As the failed applicant slunk away, Li Fan stepped forward, trying to appear confident (and not at all like someone whose main motivation was supper). He gave a lazy salute. "Li Fan, reporting for the exam, honored Elder." His voice carried a slight drawl of nonchalance.
The elder's hawk-like eyes scanned Li Fan up and down. He noted Li Fan's somewhat rumpled robes (hand-me-downs borrowed hastily), his wind-tousled hair, and the faint aroma of... was that garlic? "Your cultivation base?" the elder asked curtly.
Li Fan scratched the back of his neck. "Um, I'm at the..." He hesitated. Did 'bottom of the barrel' count as a realm? "The early stage of, uh, Body Tempering realm," he fibbed quickly. In truth, he had only the tiniest sliver of spiritual energy in him, barely enough to light a match. But he did have a robust body thanks to years of running from shopkeepers after eating and not paying. Cardio builds stamina, after all.
The elder frowned. "Only Body Tempering? At your age, most are at least Qi Gathering." The other examinees snickered under their breath. Li Fan bit his tongue. He wanted to retort that at his age most people also have a stable source of meals, but alas, life was unfair.
"Proceed to the first test," the elder sighed, pointing to a courtyard off to the side. There, a row of training dummies stood like silent judges. "Demonstrate your martial skill. Land three blows on the dummy within ten breaths." He looked at Li Fan's uncalloused hands skeptically. "Without breaking your wrists, if possible."
Li Fan walked into the courtyard, acutely aware of the giggles and whispers from other candidates. He eyed the wooden dummy. Three blows, ten breaths. Easy, right? For any normal aspiring cultivator who had trained. Li Fan, however, had spent more time stirring pots than practicing punches. Still, he wasn't about to fail now, not when so close to the sect's free cafeteria.
He took a stance he vaguely remembered from a street performance he saw once a ridiculous pose where one hand was outstretched forward and the other behind his back. It looked mildly impressive until a stray breeze knocked him slightly off balance. Steadying himself, Li Fan coughed and pretended it was all part of the routine.
"Begin," droned the elder, sounding bored already.
Li Fan sucked in a breath. He swung his first punch at the dummy with all his might. Smack! Pain shot through his hand. It felt like punching an oak tree (which, effectively, it was). He shook his hand frantically. "Ow-ow-ow..." he muttered under his breath. The elder pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe I should try a kick?" Li Fan thought aloud. He lifted his right foot and aimed a sloppy kick at the dummy's midsection. His foot connected, sending a slight jolt up his leg. It wasn't a particularly powerful kick, but it counted as a second blow.
Encouraged, Li Fan attempted the third strike. He decided on a dramatic spinning move, perhaps momentum would do what his strength could not. With a twist, he spun around, aiming to backhand the dummy. Unfortunately, momentum had its own ideas. As he spun, he lost track of position and instead of hitting the dummy, his hand whistled through empty air... and his spinning momentum carried him forward, stumbling. With a yelp, Li Fan crashed straight into the dummy shoulder-first, knocking it off its post!
The courtyard went silent. The other examinees stared, some with open mouths. From their perspective, it looked like a bold and unconventional move: Li Fan had body-slammed the dummy to the ground. The elder was so startled he stood up from his chair. "He knocked it over..." the elder murmured, eyes widening.
Li Fan groaned and rolled off the now horizontal dummy. That was not how he had envisioned things. He rubbed his shoulder, sure it would bruise. But a quick glance at the elder told him that maybe, just maybe, this accident had appeared impressive.
He scrambled to his feet and clasped his hands, pretending like that had been his intention all along. "Three blows delivered, senior." Technically, his shoulder counts as a blow, right?
The elder cleared his throat. "Unconventional technique... but it worked. I suppose that passes the first test." He jotted something down, possibly 'Candidate may be insane but strong?'