The side gates of the check chamber creaked open, admitting an icy draft of spiritual pressure that smelled faintly of burning cedar and high-born arrogance.
Striding onto the testing stage was Senior Disciple Zhao of the Imperial Dragon Academy.
Zhao stood over six feet tall, with high cheekbones and cold, reptilian eyes. He was wrapped from neck to boot in the legendary Heaven-Forged Dragon Scale Plate. A full suit of 4-Star defensive armor valued at five hundred thousand high-grade spirit stones. Two hundred linked scales of azure sea-dragon hide, bound together by cold-hammered spirit-steel bands, rippled with defensive barrier wards. In his right hand, Zhao brandished a five-foot heavy broadsword forged from deep-sea trench iron, streaming the lethal killing aura of a Peak Nascent Soul martial genius.
Zhao glared down at Shen Shitou, who stood forty paces away in his faded denim overalls, adjusting his leather rigging apron.
“Peasant,” Zhao sneered, the sound muffled beneath his winged dragon visor. “You stand before the iron-hard bulwark of the Imperial Academy. My armor was cooled in the blood of three hundred deep-sea monsters. Not even a direct strike from a Transcendent Mortal can leave a scratch upon my breastplate! Kneel, rustic laborer, and accept your master’s execution!”
