Chapter 37: An Interview Is One Thing, But What Does "Exceptional Admission" Even Mean?

The next morning, Zhang Chu rose early.

At ten o'clock, he was scheduled to visit the Martial Arts Research Institute for an interview for the "Non-Professional Martial Artists Competition."

He washed up, brushed his teeth, and even shaved. Dressed in a stylish, casual outfit and carrying a backpack, he looked every bit the youthful student. He brought along all the necessary documents and photographs.

Arriving at the underground garage, Zhang Chu started up the Lei Zhan and sped out of the Warriors’ Home. The guard at the gate caught sight of the Lei Zhan, immediately snapping to attention and saluting. In the Warriors’ Home, there were quite a few Level 3 martial artists, but Lei Zhan L1s were exceedingly rare.

Around nine-thirty, Zhang Chu finally left the Lei Zhan dealership.

“Mr. Zhang, if you ever have any issues with your car, don’t hesitate to call me. You’re a friend of our Old Zhou, which makes you my friend too. My phone is on twenty-four hours a day.” Zhou Chuanxiong’s wife personally saw him off, her slender fingers brushing across Zhang Chu’s shoulder.

Level 3 martial artist, with three million still resting in his bank account. Twenty-one years old. Tall, rich, and handsome—outshining Zhou Chuanxiong in every way.

Looking at the elegant, long-legged woman before him, Zhang Chu felt a tickle in his nose, suspecting some hidden implication in Qin Lu’s words. No, he told himself, he was an upright man—how could he understand such hints? He was only here to settle the final payment for the car.

According to the agreement he’d signed with Qin Lu, the down payment was one million, with the remainder to be paid in installments. However, after the recent trip to Dangdang Mountain and the windfall from the black market yesterday, he had managed to earn six million—hard-earned, but enough. Zhang Chu disliked waking up each day owing the bank, so he decided to pay it all off that morning.

Unable to withstand Qin Lu’s verbal advances, Zhang Chu feigned composure and drove away.

Only on the road did he realize he was, in fact, a little flustered. Damn! He pressed his hand down, embarrassed by his own lack of self-control. Femme fatale indeed.

Now, he wondered whether he should tell Zhou Chuanxiong about Qin Lu. In the virtual hunting grounds, Zhou had helped him quite a bit. For all he knew, Zhou’s head was already shining green. By the time he reached the gates of the Martial Arts Research Institute, Zhang Chu had decided it was best not to meddle—what if it was just a marketing tactic?

…

The Martial Arts Research Institute was an impressive sight, located in the southern district of Binzhou. At its entrance stood a massive natural meteorite. The bold, sweeping characters of "Binzhou Martial Arts Research Institute" had been inscribed personally by the first dean a century ago. The campus spanned six times the area of Binzhou University.

To put it another way: if you wanted to bike from the boys' dormitory to your girlfriend’s place, it would take you a good twenty minutes on an electric scooter.

“Hello, this is the Martial Arts Research Institute. Please present your credentials,” the security officer at the gate stopped Zhang Chu’s car, saluting and extending his hand, eyes scanning the vehicle’s interior.

Impressive! Zhang Chu glanced at the security captain’s badge. No wonder this was Binzhou’s premier martial arts academy—even the head of security was a Level 1 martial artist.

“I’m here to interview for the Non-Professional Martial Artists Competition,” Zhang Chu said, handing over his martial artist card.

The captain expertly scanned the card, checked the competition roster, and then saluted, waving him through. Level 3 martial artist cards were commonplace here; the security’s demeanor was calm, but Zhang Chu himself felt anything but.

Entering the campus, he was immediately surrounded by long-legged youths, the air thick with the vibrancy of youth. Luckily, the Lei Zhan L1’s flashy appearance drew plenty of attention, making him easy to spot. After circling several times and asking directions from a few well-built senior girls, Zhang Chu finally located the competition committee’s office.

The committee was situated in Binzhou University's Multimedia Classroom No. 2. Parking the car, Zhang Chu grabbed his documents and entered.

Inside, a long hallway greeted him; to the left, dozens of people were seated, all competitors for the upcoming event.

At the door, he filled out a handwritten form as required. In addition to basic personal information, there was a section on specialties and hobbies. Zhang Chu left it blank. Besides being hard to kill, he had no other talents worth noting.

“Contestant number 28, Zhang Chu, please come in!”

After waiting for an hour, his name was finally called by an assistant from the committee. Zhang Chu picked up his martial artist card and registration form and entered the multimedia classroom.

On the podium sat six people: two in Martial Arts Administration uniforms, four in faculty attire from the Research Institute. In the middle was an empty chair. On the right stood an instrument for testing vitality; to the left, a device for evaluating martial skill proficiency.

“Mr. Zhang Chu, you were recommended by the Martial Artists Management Center’s virtual hunting grounds. Congratulations on advancing to the interview stage,” said a poised woman—it was Zhang Yingxue, director of admissions, just past thirty.

“Please don’t be nervous. Hand in your registration form, then answer the teachers’ questions. If necessary, we’ll test your vitality,” she continued.

“Alright,” Zhang Chu replied calmly, passing over the completed form.

The six panelists examined it, then frowned.

Director Zhang glanced at the form, curiosity in her eyes. “Mr. Zhang Chu, I’m curious—why did you not fill in the section for specialties and hobbies?”

“I have none,” Zhang Chu replied, unruffled and direct.

The six were dumbfounded. Compared to the earlier candidates, Zhang Chu’s nonchalance was unexpected. It felt less like they were interviewing him, and more like he was interviewing them.

Looking again at his registration form—Level 3 martial artist, and so young—Zhang Yingxue’s interest was piqued. The purpose of the Non-Professional Martial Artists Competition was to inject fresh high-level talent from society into the Research Institute, reforming its academic and faculty atmosphere. If Zhang Chu was truly talented, he would be perfect for revitalizing the workplace. If he was mediocre, his poor attention to detail in the application would be grounds for immediate rejection.

“Could you demonstrate your martial skill proficiency for us? It will help us understand you better,” Zhang Yingxue suggested.

The other five exchanged glances and nodded in bureaucratic agreement. The officials from the Martial Arts Administration were just putting on a show—only Zhang Yingxue’s opinion truly mattered.

Zhang Chu stood and approached the proficiency tester, frowning as he debated which skill to display.

In the end, he chose the Tier 1 lower-grade skill, Iron Mountain Shield. His Cannon Blast had leveled up, but its proficiency was still basic. With a heavy impact, the tester shook violently.

“Ding!” announced the machine. “Test result: Tier 1 lower-grade martial skill, Iron Mountain Shield, intermediate proficiency!”

Intermediate!

Zhang Yingxue could hardly believe her ears. To reach intermediate proficiency with a martial skill at such a young age was nothing short of genius. The other five began whispering among themselves. In the entire Martial Arts Research Institute, few young martial artists possessed intermediate proficiency.

“Zhang Chu, considering your outstanding proficiency, could you also test your vitality? We’d like to assess your natural talent,” they decided after a brief discussion. Martial skill proficiency and vitality were closely linked—at least for most people. For Zhang Chu, however, a pill would suffice to boost his skills.

With a thud, Zhang Chu stood before the vitality tester and delivered a full-force punch. The device shuddered from the impact.

“Result: vitality 20,121.”

The six panelists jumped to their feet in shock. “That’s the vitality of a Level 4 martial artist!”

Zhang Yingxue stared at Zhang Chu, her face a mask of disbelief. Awkwardly, Zhang Chu scratched his nose. “Sorry, I was in a rush and haven’t had time to update my status at the Martial Artists’ Center.”

“Mr. Zhang Chu, would you be interested in joining our Research Institute as a first-year counselor?”

Direct acceptance?

Zhang Chu was stunned. Wasn’t this supposed to be an interview? What was with this exception?