Feng Mu had no objections to joining Douqiong Martial Arts Hall.

After all, that was his initial plan. Now that it was free of charge, and although this martial arts hall seemed far inferior to Azure Dragon Martial Arts Hall, having witnessed the scene that afternoon, Feng Mu strongly suspected this hall was rather extraordinary.

A hall that harbored a bunch of murderers couldn't be ordinary, could it?

Feng Mu picked a locker, changed into the black training uniform for premium members, and looked at his tall yet thin figure in the mirror, his wooden expression flickering with cold light.

"Anyway, no matter what kind of tricks Douqiong Martial Arts Hall is playing, I'll first fill my stomach with the sugar-coated bullets, the rest can wait until they show their hand."

Feng Mu rubbed his stiff cheeks. Using [Molded Embryo] to disguise facial expressions for a long time had this downside - the facial muscles tended to stiffen, needing occasional rubbing to promote circulation.

Outside the changing room.

Seeing Feng Mu come out in his training attire, Hong Ya's eyes slightly lit up, thinking to herself, "Though little junior brother's physique is a bit thin, he seems very capable, with a vibe like a lean tiger. Hmm, just his expression is too wooden, lacking momentum."

While Feng Mu was changing clothes, Li Bashan had already finished a bucket of rice, and was now using a wooden spoon to pick out the grains, giving a contrasting feeling like Zhang Fei embroidering.

Seeing Feng Mu come out, Li Bashan gave up the fantasy of pulling another bucket of rice out of the empty one, muttering to himself, "Strange, Hong Ya usually eats slowly, where did she hide her bowl?"

Under Hong Ya's disapproving gaze, he carelessly wiped the grease from his mouth with his sleeve, and Feng Mu, with his sharp eyes, could see spots of grease splattered on the latter's chest as well.

"Come on, Master wants me to test your mettle." Li Bashan said in a muffled voice.

He had intentionally lowered his voice, yet half the dojo's students still heard it. Some glanced at Feng Mu with eyes showing envy or jealousy.

Feng Mu turned his head to look at Hong Ya.

Hong Ya explained, "At Douqiong Martial Arts Hall, we do not discriminate when teaching. Every new student has to be tested on their foundation so that we can arrange guidance later."

Hong Ya answered very seriously.

The students in white training uniforms around surprisingly did not refute, only smirked in unison.

When we first joined, did you do anything other than collect money? It's like we've all collectively lost our memory.

Walking through the main area of the dojo, Feng Mu glanced at the various instruments and equipment, most of which were being used by students. A mere glance and he withdrew his gaze.

With his current vision, it wasn't hard to discern that these ordinary students seemed to have poor foundations; the average level of strength displayed was far from that of Azure Dragon Martial Arts Hall.

It's like the difference between regular troops and ragtag soldiers.

On one side were excellent students from various schools, while on the other were those at the bottom, or people like him, societal outcasts who couldn't give up on the citizen exams.

Passing through the main area, inside was a smaller section.

Gone were the diverse equipment and the tech-savvy instruments; inside was simply a ring roped off.

Around the ring were scattered some training mannequins, human-shaped at a 1:1 scale, entirely forged of steel.

Feng Mu was a bit stunned; he originally thought this area would be more advanced, more tech-savvy than outside, but didn't expect it to be so... shabby?

It didn't resemble a modern martial arts hall of this century but more like an "old remains of a previous dynasty" from a hundred years ago, exuding an aura of not keeping up with the times.

Premium membership area, this is it?

No wonder there were so few people in the premium membership area, and those present were... the familiar faces from the afternoon.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!

Feng Mu counted; including Li Bashan and Hong Ya, there were only seven people in total, five men and two women, none wearing the hall-issued training uniforms but their regular clothes.

Two were sitting cross-legged on the ground resting.

The remaining three were each wildly pounding on an Iron Man Post, not using any protective gear or gloves, just slamming their fists or elbows and knees against it until the thing bled.

It wasn't the Iron Man Post that was bleeding, but rather the people punching, whose flesh had split open and started bleeding.

But Feng Mu watched as these people continued without the slightest pause, seeming impervious to pain, their movements getting faster and fiercer as their flesh split to the bone.

With expressionless faces that neither flinched nor groaned, their brows bore the malice of fierce spirits, more like monsters cloaked in human skin than living beings.

The Iron Man Posts were smeared with both fresh and old blood, stained and absorbed until they could no longer be washed clean, turning black.

Feng Mu knew he was a monster forged with [Calamity Iron], but he couldn't fight steel without feeling pain.

Yet here were these mere mortals, as if they wouldn't stop until the Iron Man Post was shattered. They looked more monstrous than actual monsters.

"It was them who gave me the collective death stare this afternoon, making the Calamity Iron in my stomach suddenly digest 1%." Feng Mu pondered the connection behind this.

So, was the trigger the death stare?

Or was it that these individuals had some special traits?

Or did it require a combination of both, happening simultaneously?

As Li Bashan and Hong Ya led Feng Mu in, these people didn't stop their actions, just watched with differing levels of politeness as they evaluated Feng Mu.

This time, though analyzed collectively by their gaze, the Calamity Iron in Feng Mu's stomach remained inert, leaving him slightly disappointed.

Li Bashan turned his head, grinned, and squeezed Feng Mu's shoulder with a hand as large as a fan, saying in a deep voice, "Our Douqiong Martial Arts Hall is different."

"Whatever those instruments measure—Fist Power, attack speed, skill ratings and so on—they don't count here."

"Even innate talents like Root Bone are downplayed here."

"Because Master taught us from the start that one shouldn't blindly trust machines. Machines are dead, but humans are alive, so human tests can only be compared by humans."

"Data is irrelevant; the only important thing is who's standing and who's fallen?"

Li Bashan pushed Feng Mu toward the central ring, saying, "Master wants me to test your mettle, so go up there and pick anyone to fight. Once you're done, I'll see what I need to see for Master."

Li Bashan kept to himself something he didn't say out loud: You're sure to be the one who falls down, but that's not important. What Master wants me to observe is how you fall.

Because falling reveals a person's true nature more clearly than standing does.

Feng Mu pulled the ropes aside, stepped into the ring, his face a mix of awkwardness and confusion. He looked at the people in the area, and as his gaze swept over them, those punching the posts stopped and returned his look.

Very strange.

These people's eyes held no trace of disdain, even though Feng Mu appeared to be just an ordinary, useless student, favored by Master Li Guishen for unknown reasons.

No disdain, no scorn; instead, there was a tinge of eager anticipation in their eyes.

It seemed they cared little about the strength or weakness of an opponent, instead craving a break from beating the Iron Man Posts, seeking an opportunity to feel once more the impact of flesh and bone.

At this moment, though still not a death stare, Feng Mu faintly sensed the Calamity Iron in his stomach slowly responding.

The Calamity Iron had been slightly digested...

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