Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter Sixty-One: Departure

Hearing these words was a devastating blow to Chen Chang'an, his fragile heart teetering on the verge of shattering. Yet, since Cao Wu had privately sent him the message, he could only obey, unable to resist.

He swept his hand through his hair, shifting his fringe from a neat seven-three part to a more rakish eight-two, and strode out boldly, announcing, “I want to take part in the Black-Clad Guards assessment as well!”

The martial artists and residents of Chang'an, their attention captured by the urgent topic of incomplete groups, all turned to look at him.

“Good, then that group is no longer missing a member…” Su Qingtang followed the direction of the voice, shifting his gaze with a sigh. But his words abruptly stalled when he realized the speaker was none other than his son-in-law, Chen Chang'an.

His forehead involuntarily throbbed with veins. The third daughter, Su Wanqiu, knitted her brows as deeply as possible, thinking, What is this nonsense? The Black-Clad Guards recruitment is no joke, and Chen Chang'an isn’t even a martial artist. How could he possibly qualify?

Of course, her doubts stemmed from having fainted too early last time in Mao Ji’s workshop, missing Chen Chang'an’s performance and mistakenly believing it was Cao Wu who had arrived in time.

Su Wanqing stared at him with round, wide eyes, “You’d better focus on making brown sugar.”

“Good son-in-law, I believe in you. Go forth bravely and boldly,” his mother-in-law Qin Fuluo said, surprisingly supportive, seemingly convinced deep down that Chen Chang'an was the most outstanding of her three sons-in-law.

Su Qingtang: “…”

Su Wanqiu: “…”

Su Wanqing: “…”

Chen Chang'an ignored them, meeting the gaze of his like-minded mother-in-law Qin Fuluo. “Yes, I certainly will. I’ll bring honor to the Su family.”

“And besides, though second brother-in-law has worked hard in recent years, he always fails the imperial exams. Once I establish myself in the Black-Clad Guards, I’ll recommend him.”

His words elicited a strange look even from Qin Fuluo. The Black-Clad Guards were a haven for warriors; what did that have to do with Zhu Jiawen, who studied Confucian classics?

Yet, in Chen Chang'an’s eyes, their reactions were adoration, awe, and he felt quite pleased. It turns out that standing firm and recommending someone was so impressive—no wonder Ye Lin was always boasting about it.

Nearby residents who knew him whispered among themselves, “Did you see that? Isn’t that Chen Chang'an, the Su family’s son-in-law? Wasn’t he blind? How is he joining the Black-Clad Guards?”

“Blind? No way, he walks pretty steadily.”

“Even if his sight’s recovered, it’s not enough. The Black-Clad Guards are responsible for all of Chang'an and the royal family's safety. You need martial arts skills! What can he do as a son-in-law?”

Ignoring the disparaging remarks around him, Chen Chang'an walked step by step toward the group where Ruan Jingchu stood. As he passed through the crowd of martial artists, his ears were filled with mocking, dismissive voices.

“Ha, with that scrawny body, he wants to join the Black-Clad Guards? He probably can't take half a punch from me.”

“I sense no aura from him—no cultivation at all. Even if he has some, it’s probably just body training. Who gave him the courage at this level?”

“I reckon Commander Cheng won’t approve his entry.”

“Hmph, he probably wants to piggyback on his group’s results and sneak through. Shameless.”

—Page 1/3—

“Master Chen, I believe in you! You’re the best—you’ll surely pass the Black-Clad Guards assessment!” Suddenly, amid the chorus of insults, a voice rang out in support. It was Liu Yingfeng, fan in hand and smiling, who had witnessed Chen Chang'an’s social connections himself, unlike the brainless crowd.

Immediately, many contemptuous glances shot his way.

Liu Yingfeng raised his chin proudly, even more pleased with himself.

On the scene, no one felt more conflicted than Ye Lin. His eyes twitched wildly, and he seemed on the verge of collapsing on the spot.

Chen Chang'an was truly here to take the assessment—why? Was it because he could be in the same group as Ruan Jingchu? His fragile heart shattered into pieces.

If only he’d filled the vacancy himself at the last moment!

“No…” Ye Lin, overwhelmed, clutched his chest and collapsed.

A Black-Clad Guard on site pointed at him, commanding, “Quick! Take that overheated candidate inside to rest. Honestly, with such a weak constitution, where does he get the confidence to participate?”

The guards immediately carried Ye Lin away.

As they carried Ye Lin off, Chen Chang'an arrived at the group with Ruan Jingchu. The other two members were also women—he learned the one on the left was Wen Jin, a disciple of the Cangyue Sect, and the one on the right was Lan Yingxue, who had no formal master.

“Hmm, not bad luck with women!” Chen Chang'an thought privately.

Both seemed unusually taciturn, offering little beyond their introductions.

Ruan Jingchu, after a brief pause, said, “I wonder if you’re here to spare our group embarrassment, or if you genuinely want to join the Black-Clad Guards. But with your cultivation just breaking into the body-training realm, I’m afraid you won’t meet their standards.”

“I’m not sure if the Black-Clad Guards will approve.”

Just then, Commander Cheng Mulong returned from the observation platform, scanned the group symbolically, and nodded, “Alright, you’re permitted to join Group 1314 for the assessment.”

“What?”

“Did I hear that right? With Cheng Mulong’s cultivation, he should easily see this guy’s at best the peak of body-training. How could he agree?”

“Are the Black-Clad Guards’ standards so low now?”

Everyone was astonished, even Ruan Jingchu.

Not far from Group 1314, there was a man dressed in polished, gleaming beast-hide, with a long face, pointed chin, narrow brows, and sharp eyes, a pouch of throwing discs at his waist. He stood with arms crossed, eyes full of amusement.

“Even someone of this level can take the assessment? Ridiculous,” he sneered coldly.

“Everyone, maintain silence!”

Cheng Mulong addressed the noisy crowd again, his voice ringing out, “Now, join your groups and stay put. We had a candidate faint just now—once he returns, the assessment will begin immediately.”

It wasn’t long before two Black-Clad Guards escorted Ye Lin out, still embarrassed, head buried deep in his chest and hand pressed tightly to his brow.

—Page 2/3—

Cheng Mulong watched him from start to finish, shaking his head in disappointment. “His constitution really isn’t up to par.”

Then, using his inner force, he sent his voice swirling across the entire Jiahui Lane, “Twenty thousand copper coins have now been scattered over Qinghua Mountain. You may set out now. I repeat: you may compete for the coins, but no injuries or deaths are allowed during the contest, or you’ll be eliminated instantly.”

“Yes!” The crowd of over five thousand responded in unison, their voices echoing to the heavens.

“Go!” Cheng Mulong gave the final command.

Thus, the native residents of Chang'an dispersed to go home, while the over five thousand martial artists, grouped into teams, set off for Qinghua Mountain.

At the entrance of Jiahui Lane, Chen Chang'an, worried that Su Qingtang’s family would see and start making a fuss, deliberately hid behind Ruan Jingchu until they’d walked some distance.

“Hey, wait!” Passing his family’s meat bun stall, Chen Chang'an suddenly spoke up.

“What is it?” Ruan Jingchu tilted her head slightly to ask.

Lan Yingxue and Wen Jin stopped.

Chen Chang'an replied, “I keep thinking we ought to bring some food with us.”

At his words, Ruan Jingchu’s stomach, quite fittingly, began to rumble, her clear pupils reflecting the steaming meat buns as she swallowed, “But…how will we carry them?”

“I…” Wen Jin slowly raised her hand. “My original technique is No. 77: Storage. I can tear open a pocket of independent space nearby to put things in.”

As she spoke, she extended her slender, beautiful finger and traced it through the air, mysteriously and dreamily creating a slit in the fabric of reality. With both hands, she pulled it wider, revealing a dark cavity within.

This was the so-called independent space she’d created.

“How wonderful!” Chen Chang'an quickly took a few broken pieces of silver from Ruan Jingchu’s small woolen bag and slapped them on the table. “Twenty meat buns, please!”

The clerk, realizing it was a big order, dropped everything to work quickly, delivering the steaming buns to Chen Chang'an within two minutes. He picked one to eat himself and stuffed the rest into Wen Jin’s independent space created by her original technique.

“What’s this?” As he rummaged around, Chen Chang'an’s hand seemed to brush against something unfamiliar. Curious, he pulled it out—a red and green lotus-embroidered bellyband.

“Wow…” Wen Jin covered her face and cried out, burying her head in her chest.

Ruan Jingchu and Lan Yingxue’s cheeks flushed bright red.

For a moment, thousands of people in the street all turned to look again; the women were shy, disgusted, or scornful, some even cursing, while the men were uniformly dumbstruck.

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