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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Brutal Entrance Exam
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I swallowed hard.
My ears caught Gang Buryong's words, but I couldn't focus on them at all.
It had started the moment I sensed a few people approaching me before melting back into the crowd.
No way?
No way.
Were these lunatics seriously going to try it here...?
Fortunately, the ones closing in flinched as the surrounding murmurs grew louder and the crowd's movements intensified.
Then they got swept away by the throng and vanished like they'd dissolved.
"..."
Once my nerves sharpened, they grew so sensitive that I could feel the texture of my clothes brushing against my skin.
Gang Buryong returned to the platform up front and resumed his speech.
"I can see right through you fledglings' intentions. It's one of three things, isn't it?"
Gang Buryong held up three fingers and folded them down one by one as he spoke.
"First, those looking to grow with Baekryeonsa's backing. Second, those aiming for the 'Songshan Pact' with the Shinsinwi or connections with the heirs of prestigious sects. But above all, your real schemes boil down to the third: that certificate proving you passed even one of Cheonsubakryeonsa's four gates at a higher level— the proof itself."
Everyone fell silent.
It was a more powerful affirmation than any words could be.
Gang Buryong chuckled deeply.
"Yeah, I get it. Being born a martial artist and making a name for yourself in the world isn't a bad thing at all. Passing even one of Cheonsubakryeonsa's four gates at a higher level is its own officially recognized mark of glory. Especially the final gate, Dongmu Hall."
Gang Buryong clenched his fist and grinned.
"Passing the Dong stage means you're qualified to be called one of the murim's eight latent dragons—maybe not quite the Eight Immortal Dragons, but certainly a candidate for the Five Tigers and Three Flowers."
He laughed.
"I won't condemn worldly goals. That's the very purpose behind founding Cheonsubakryeonsa, after all."
Gang Buryong's eyes sharpened like a hawk's.
"But we'll only back those who deserve it. With that in mind, I declare that starting this year, we'll implement an entrance exam."
The crowd erupted in murmurs, surging with agitation.
"I heard there was no entrance exam last cohort."
"It's a scam—they can't spring a test on us with no prep!"
Their unfamiliar reactions made it clear this had never happened before.
[Host, to your right.]
I whipped my head right like lightning.
Our eyes met.
Sparks flew.
A man who had been glancing my way hurriedly averted his gaze but missed the timing and locked eyes with me.
He had a sturdy build and semi-curly hair.
[He's been staring at you for a while.]
My breath caught.
'One of the Moyong Family Patriarch candidates.'
The thought flashed through my mind.
My three half-brothers. I didn't even know their faces.
I'd been too young during my time in the Moyong Family, but more than that, as the son of a concubine, my mother and I had been treated like ghosts, living on the outskirts where we never crossed paths with them.
'Power-hungry bastards who'll kill me at the first chance.'
Crunch.
Sparks flew from my eyes.
I didn't want to lose even in first impressions.
I stared him down without looking away.
He stared back, refusing to break eye contact.
'Well, look at you.'
I'd survived near-death countless times.
My limbs had been severed.
In front of Cheonsubakryeonsa, my gut had been sliced open.
Without Moomyeong's help, I'd have died long ago—or at least been crippled for life.
I didn't know if this guy ordered it or if it was one of my other brothers, but no way in hell did I see him in a good light.
"..."
He noticed my sharpened glare, and the man's expression suddenly changed.
'He's flustered?'
The man awkwardly rolled his eyes, scratched his cheek, then—
Snap.
He flashed his thumb up and winked.
"...What the hell is with that guy?"
Embarrassed, I looked away without thinking.
[Crazy bastard. Stay wary, host.]
"To think we're finally agreeing on something."
Meanwhile, the speech continued.
"The entrance exam is simple. Hold out in a spar or internal energy clash with this division for one ke of incense time. Passing just means enduring. Your individual grade will be determined by a comprehensive review of various factors during the bout. Allow me to introduce..."
Gang Buryong gestured behind him and continued.
"She was set to leave after assisting last cohort's training, but due to certain circumstances, she's agreed to oversee this cohort's entrance exam as well. Take note."
A massive figure with red hair fluttering like a lion's mane stepped up beside Gang Buryong.
"Hahaha! Good to see you all. I'm Pahwanggun. It's an honor to handle Cheonsubakryeonsa's entrance exam for this cohort."
Even declaring the exam earlier hadn't caused this much uproar.
"Oh my god, that madman Pahwanggun?!"
"No way—my brother said that guy was banned from Cheonsubakryeonsa after last cohort, so don't worry, but now he's here again!"
"The Fighting Ghost who has the Murim Alliance Lord's favor."
Pahwanggun, clearly expecting their reaction, grinned smugly.
"Uhaha! Don't worry, kids. No matter how brutish I am, I'm not gonna rip the limbs off a bunch of chicks."
That only backfired.
Especially the part about ripping limbs—it was a fresh horror even among these orthodox sect heirs, shocking everyone.
"Did I hear that wrong?"
"Rumor has it he was from the unorthodox paths, caught the Alliance Lord's eye, got persuaded to join the orthodox side, and received personal instruction."
"And just last year, they say he tore apart bandits preying on villages—with his bare hands."
If that's all I was hearing, it said everything about the guy.
"Pahwanggun, sir. I trust there won't be any more incidents like last cohort, where you couldn't control your strength against examinees. Of course, after the Alliance Lord's special training, I'm sure you'll handle it well now."
"Of course! No worries!"
Gang Buryong's words were enough to freeze the audience solid.
'Damn it.'
Cold sweat trickled down my forehead.
An entrance exam, of all things.
Pick sparring or internal energy clash—neither favored me.
I barely had any cultivated energy or proper martial arts.
"I'll take the entrance exam first!"
"We've heard of Pahwanggun's fame—teach us a lesson!"
"This is Cheongsung Sect's direct disciple—!"
Unlike me, shaking like a leaf, some examinees burned with fighting spirit.
Mostly the front-row elites from prestigious sects.
Those with backing really did carry themselves with unshakable confidence.
At least that was a relief.
With so many volunteers, I'd have time to think.
I could watch the trends in their exams and plan my response.
With this many people, even at top speed, it'd take at least half a day.
"Heh, good, everyone's itching to go first! That's the spirit of youth."
Pahwanggun roared with laughter at the front row's near-brawl to challenge him first.
"But you see, I don't like the obvious and predictable."
No way.
A chill ran down my spine.
With a satisfied grin, he pointed to the very back.
"Not the front— we'll start from the rear! Come forward from where you stand, starting from back there! You in the back, hiding with that blank look—you're first!"
His finger pointed straight at the back row where I stood.
...Why do bad feelings always hit the mark?
Moomyeong whispered to me as I sighed.
[Host, you remember the way back to the Eighth Elder's place, right?]
"Shut up."
What followed happened in a flash.
No chance to run or switch spots.
The exam started immediately.
Examinees entered the tented exam ground one by one.
The rest sat in chairs lined up in front of the tent, waiting their turn.
"Uwaaak!"
And already the seventh was being carried out.
I sat there, drenched in cold sweat.
Not just me—the six next to me looked the same.
"Dear me, no wonder you were hiding in the back like rats with skills like that!"
"My arm! My arm! I'll tell my father!"
"Kahaha! I'm stronger than your father! Strength breeds respect!"
Chaos reigned.
I wondered if I'd come to an orthodox training hall or a demonic cult exam ground— it was pure pandemonium.
Was this a test site or a one-sided beating arena?
"This is definitely an orthodox training ground, not some demonic cult, right?"
[Faint memories tell me demonic cults were pure hellscapes. This at least smells like human habitation. Don't worry, host. It's orthodox.]
Smells like human habitation.
We waited in groups of twenty.
My back-row group was first up, lined in front of the tent where the exams unfolded.
Like cattle awaiting slaughter.
One by one, names called, they vanished into the massive white tent's sparring ground—and without fail, screams echoed faintly.
"Should I just turn back now?"
The examinee two spots ahead of me—next up—gnawed his nails, trembling.
A plump-faced young master who didn't even look twenty yet.
We didn't know each other's sects or names, but shared terror united us.
The one right before me spoke up.
"How about suggesting internal energy clash as the test instead? So far, everyone's picked sparring."
Sound advice, persuasively so.
Terror-frozen brains nodded in agreement.
"Next! Why are you kids so spineless!"
The next one was practically dragged in.
"Oho! Sturdy build! I'll ask your name if you pass. What event do you want?"
The man's voice boomed so loud it rang through the thick tent.
"I-I want internal energy c..."
"Whoa! Proctor! You hearing this? Finally, a gutsy one requesting internal energy clash against me! Perfect, I love it."
The waiting group's faces turned ashen.
The tent blocked all view—only sounds leaked, barely audible even up close, just screams for those farther back.
'No way to gather intel.'
This spelled certain failure.
Failure wasn't just failure for me.
It meant death.
Life without protection, unable to even sleep soundly.
Worst case, the moment I stepped out Cheonsubakryeonsa's main gate, spears could rain down, skewering me like a kebab.
"Next."
...No time to think.
The guy ahead entered, immediately forfeited, so it was my turn.
'Damn it.'
I gritted my teeth.
Failing meant expulsion.
Expulsion from Cheonsubakryeonsa was like a fledgling tossed from the nest.
With killers waiting at the gate, I wouldn't last two days.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
Crossing into the white tent felt like a condemned man walking to the execution block.
"Kahaha, another chick's here. At this pace, we'll finish before lunch—!"
Our eyes met.
Pahwanggun sat at the vast white desk, arms crossed, bulging arm muscles on full display.
Beside him, the previous examinee—arms charred black—was foaming at the mouth as he was carted off.
"Well, well, look at those eyes."
"..."
I blinked.
Don't cower.
Memories of surviving death's door multiple times flooded back.
I'd endured like a vengeful ghost—no one had killed me yet.
I would not die.
To survive, I'd crawl through sewer mud if I had to...!
"Who are you? You've got sharp eyes."
"Greetings, examiner."
No escaping now.
Full throttle or bust.
The Heavenly Demon Copies Martial Arts