Their initial plan was to challenge An Jing the next day, but the fatigue and muscle soreness from their rigorous training were too much to bear, so they reluctantly postponed it to the third day. The one-eyed instructor's remark about An Jing being the "best and brightest" wasn't actually the reason behind the challenge.

Over the past two weeks, it became evident to everyone that An Jing was outstanding in every aspect—adept in both literary and martial domains. Anyone who could outdo him in academics couldn't do the same in martial techniques. And as for martial domain alone, he was second to none.

During a training exercise at the manor, a conflict arose between a big fellow named Zhan Feng and another child. He was eight chi tall at only twelve years old, while his opponent who appeared dark and thin possessed unexpectedly great strength. The pair fought a fight so fierce that they kept all onlookers at bay. However, An Jing pinned the two to the table, one with each hand. Unable to move, they could only beg him to let them go.

Even though it began as an unstated understanding, after a period of over two weeks, everyone acknowledged An Jing as the undeniable, de facto senior disciple. The test of their physical abilities had also confirmed that he was the strongest among them.

On the test day, An Jing's dinner was supplemented with a bowl of braised pork ribs and a bowl of vegetable and tofu soup. The rich, savory aroma of the steaming pork ribs and the tantalizing hint of spicy herbs in the brown sauce made the dish irresistible. And though it looked simple, the vegetable and tofu soup smelled divine and was likely prepared with bone-boiled broth. In fact, it would be considered a master chef's creation in any other place.

Meals at Direlife Manor were plentiful, consisting of dishes such as millet and meat soup, rice and beans, and sometimes egg and tofu. It wasn't fancy, but it was consistent.

But there was little beyond that.

The moment the large bowl of braised pork ribs appeared, the fragrance of the oil and savory sauce instantly caused a stir throughout the entire dining hall. Without turning around, An Jing could tell from their quickened breathing that almost everyone was looking at him with green eyes. The truth was, his own eyes were green with the same hunger.

Without a moment's hesitation, An Jing devoured the meat before him.

That night, a satisfied An Jing noted twice the usual amount of teeth-grinding in his dormitory, accompanied by sleep-talking about roasted meat and pork ribs. The palpable resentment nearly kept him awake. Fun.

He knew he wouldn't have peace for a while, but he wasn't afraid.

Steal his meat? Hah, what a joke! He wasn't losing to anyone, period.

An Jing ate pork ribs for three days. After everyone had fully recovered, ten of the thirteen children who completed the full training asked to challenge him under the instructor's supervision.

"Back-to-back?" Behind An Jing, Gu Yeqi widened her already large eyes when the instructor announced the rules.

A little bewildered, she asked, "Instructor Li, that's a little unfair, isn't it? Does Brother Jing—I mean, An Jing actually have to defeat them one after another to keep his position?"

Gu Yeqi was a lively girl who came from the same region as An Jing. She would cheerfully call out "Brother Jing" whenever she saw him and bring him a bowl of water after they finished training.

The feeling was completely novel to An Jing as he had no younger sisters. He looked out for her and offered guidance on martial techniques, so they got along well. Of course, An Jing acknowledged that a real younger sister would never be as caring and easygoing as Gu Yeqi.

"Yeah," Zhang Ying protested as he walked behind An Jing, still sporting a bruise on his forehead. "Those who fight later have it easier. Even if they win, they won't convince anyone."

"If you lack the strength, it simply means you haven't trained enough. Anyone who isn't happy can challenge the winner next time." The one-eyed instructor gave An Jing a look that clearly showed his intention to test his limits.

"Deciding a winner among you won't take long. You don't have the ability to fight for an extended period, so a single mistake will determine the outcome. If you're really good, you can defeat ten in a row in under an hour. Becoming the senior disciple and finishing first won't be easy."

Instructor Li was right; An Jing didn't see it as unfair. Instead, he saw it as an incredible opportunity to subdue every single person who dared to challenge him.

Weapons were permitted in this challenge. Participants were free to select the training equipment they handled best, including wooden staves, wooden knives, and wooden swords. The martial path thrived in Grand Chen, so most children grew up immersed in that culture and were adept at using weapons. An Jing opted for a short staff as a substitute for a sword breaker, intending to use it for parrying his opponents' weapons.

Wielding a longsword, the first challenger, who was likely from a family of butchers, moved with brutal intensity. He wasn't acting out of hostility, but simply because he knew the extent of An Jing's strength. He knew holding back would mean an instant defeat, and victory seemed unlikely anyway. But the promise of meat made the fight worthwhile.

Greetings were barely out of the way before his opponent lunged forward, bringing his longsword down in a vicious arc toward An Jing's inner circle. However, An Jing immediately noticed that his challenger's fighting style was clearly intended for a meat cleaver, not a longsword, thereby necessitating close-quarters combat. The longsword was already proving a hindrance. Moving into close range made his opponent's swings awkward, causing his center of gravity to shift. Seizing his chance, An Jing batted the longsword aside, and with a swift step forward, he forcefully shoved his unsteady opponent, sending him tumbling backward.

The second challenger, likely a woodcutter's descendant, gripped his axe like an extension of his own arm, swinging it with ferocious power. A single blow could certainly break bones and would easily knock An Jing out cold. There was just one fatal flaw—An Jing wasn't a log or a tree; he could move. He effortlessly evaded the mighty axe and countered with his staff, striking his opponent's side. The boy staggered and chose to surrender.

The third and fourth challengers were no pushovers either. One fought with a sword, the other with a short spear, and after a short but intense struggle with each, An Jing found an opening and defeated them in turn.

Despite their physical strength and considerable talent, the majority only survived the snow calamity thanks to their parents' protection or sheer luck. The few who had taken lives owed their success primarily to luck. In reality, they could only claim a surface-level understanding of martial techniques.

An Jing had martial training since childhood and fought alongside his mother in the bleak northern frontier. He had even slaughtered cannibalistic refugees on four or five occasions, using both ambushes and direct combat, thereby honing his vastly superior real-life combat experience. He had to actively restrain himself, as his instinct was to strike for the chest or neck with his short staff.

This was precisely why he had chosen the short staff. Defeating his challengers and securing his position as the rightful senior brother was fine, but accidentally killing a fellow apprentice was an entirely different matter.

They're miles apart. Instructor Li shook his head as he watched An Jing effortlessly defeat his fifth and sixth opponents with the ease of chopping vegetables.

I was hoping to test the kid's skills, but I didn't expect such a massive gap. He looked over the last four challengers with increasing dissatisfaction.

Of the four remaining challengers, only one had decent skills, and even she was a few levels below An Jing; the rest were only good for bullying children. And judging by the girl's righteous look, she had clearly lost all will to fight after witnessing An Jing's skill and would likely concede the match.

By this point, An Jing had already defeated his seventh challenger, this time choosing to fight barehanded. He simply caught the swinging staff and kicked his opponent back a full ten chi, leaving him coughing and waving his hands in surrender. Just fifteen minutes had gone by. It seemed unlikely the fight would last even half an hour, let alone a full sixty minutes.

Instructor Li frowned. He had come with a mission. While An Jing's exceptional talent was undoubtedly a positive thing, it also completely crushed the other children's spirit, which went against his own objective.

His eyes scanned the area. Out of more than two hundred disaster children, there were certainly individuals whose talents were not inferior to An Jing's. However, their very talent allowed them to see their lack of practical experience, and that they stood no chance against him. Even those with combat experience and decent strength had realized the massive gap between themselves and An Jing.

Instructor Li's gaze fell on the young talents he had been optimistic about, but found that they had no determination to fight. After looking around, he finally spotted someone who wasn't intimidated at all and was excitedly clenching his fists. He was also strong enough that he could perhaps pose a threat to An Jing.

"You." Instructor Li walked over to the boy, patted his shoulder, and pointed toward An Jing as he said, "Take him down."