Every year in late winter and early spring, the various prefectures and counties of the Great Tang select students from official or private schools for preliminary examinations, and recommend the outstanding ones to the Ministry of Personnel for further exams—this is called xianggong (provincial recommendation).

If the local officials make improper recommendations, not only will the wrongly recommended candidates be disqualified, but all their fellow townsmen will also be implicated and stripped of their exam eligibility. In cases of serious fraud, even the local government officials may be held accountable.

The same applies to the military examination. Each year, the prefectures recommend candidates for the military xianggong to go to the capital and take the Ministry of War exam. The number of spots varies; Shazhou, with its small population and only two counties—Dunhuang and Shouchang—receives just three xianggong slots each year.

This is the third year that Shazhou has held the local military exam. Because the number of spots to go to the capital is so limited, the candidates are basically predetermined. Of course, those recommended are all skilled in archery and horsemanship, and are quite capable—not, as Brian Thompson said, the kind of useless, pampered sons. After all, making a fool of oneself in the capital would bring disgrace to the local officials.

Shazhou has a strong martial tradition. This time, over six hundred people participated in the local military exam. Some of the scholarly students also practice martial arts—these are the martial arts students of the prefectural school.

Not many prefectural school students take the local military exam—fewer than a hundred. The remaining five hundred or so come from the six martial arts academies in Dunhuang and Shouchang counties.

The local military exam consists of four subjects: weightlifting, spear forms, foot archery, and mounted archery. Generally, passing the first three is considered qualified.

With this, one obtains the local government’s recognition as a provincial military exam candidate, which can lead to a decent job—this is the goal for most examinees.

For example, one could become a clerk at the prefectural or county office, serve as a guard for merchant caravans, or, with connections, even join the Doulu Army as a junior officer.

But to go to the capital for the Ministry of War’s military exam, one must compete in mounted archery. In fact, almost all those who compete for the final mounted archery slots to go to the capital are prefectural school students.

The weightlifting and spear forms have already been tested. Today is the foot archery and mounted archery exams. Foot archery is divided among three exam sites, while mounted archery is held at the main Dunhuang drill ground.

As the eastern sky just began to lighten and the morning haze lingered, a crescent moon hung in the sky. The streets were already bustling, with young men in martial attire and bows and arrows on their backs everywhere.

Brian Thompson rode to the East Drill Ground. Today, Sarah Cooper did not come with him; she was a spectator and would only appear during the mounted archery exam.

The entrance to the East Drill Ground was crowded with examinees registering. Brian Thompson was looking around when he heard someone behind him shout, “Old Thompson, over here! Over here!”

Brian Thompson turned around and saw a chubby youth waving at him from a corner.

Brian Thompson was delighted and quickly led his horse over. “Old Fatty, have you registered yet?”

“Not yet! No rush, registering early doesn’t help.”

The chubby youth was Brian Thompson’s best friend, named Jack, though everyone called him Fat Jack. His father was a famous butcher in Dunhuang.

He and Brian Thompson were the same age and had grown up together. He was cheerful and witty; even Reverend Carter liked him and accepted him as a registered disciple, letting him study and practice martial arts alongside Brian Thompson.

He wasn’t much of a scholar, nor was his martial skill exceptional, but he did have one special talent: he was deadly with throwing knives, never missing within thirty paces.

His younger brother, John, had come along as well. He was an admirer of Brian Thompson and eagerly took the white horse’s reins. “Brother Brian, I’ll watch your horse for you.”

“Thanks a lot!”

Only then did Brian Thompson notice that the chubby youth was still leading his usual skinny little donkey. He couldn’t help but ask, “Old Fatty, what are you going to ride for the mounted archery exam?”

The chubby youth scratched his head, looking troubled. “I went to the mule and horse market to rent a horse yesterday, but I was a step too late—they were all rented out, so…”

Brian Thompson saw John wink at him and immediately understood. He patted the chubby youth on the shoulder and laughed, “No worries. If they allowed throwing knives in the exam, the spot to go to the capital would be yours for sure.”

“Exactly! But what can I do? Couldn’t rent a horse, so I have to give up on mounted archery. I wonder how Sarah will tease me about this.”

Beside them, John couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. The chubby youth sensed it, turned, and glared at him fiercely. “What are you laughing at? Do you think your Big Brother is the kind to back out at the last minute?”

Brian Thompson also couldn’t help but laugh. “Your Brother never backs out of a challenge—he’s just a bit chubby, so his steps are slower than others. By the time he arrives, everyone else is already wiped out. Right, Old Fatty?”

Jack squinted his eyes in a smile, feeling a deep sense of “my parents gave me life, but Old Thompson understands me.”

At that moment, someone at the registration desk shouted, “Brian Thompson! Is the prefectural school student Brian Thompson here?”

Chapter 008: The Institutional Trap

It was an examiner shouting at the entrance. Brian Thompson quickly raised his hand. “Here!”

“Hurry up and register. You’re the last one from the prefectural school who hasn’t registered.”

Behind him, Jack muttered, “What a lie—clearly I’m also a prefectural school student and haven’t registered. What’s that about?”

“They’re probably confused. Let’s go register together!”

Jack handed the skinny donkey to his brother, and the two squeezed up to the registration desk, handing over their bamboo exam tokens. The examiner spread the registration book in front of Brian Thompson. “Hurry and register—you’re in the first group, and the exam is about to start.”

“Sir Examiner, may I ask which group I’m in?” Jack asked from the side.

“You?” The examiner was taken aback. “What’s your name?”