However, as long as no one is killed in this kind of competition, James Thompson will not intervene.

Adam Harper's group finished early, and he was watching the matches of the other groups.

Among them, three people displayed truly astonishing strength.

One was a handsome young man who used a sword. His swordsmanship was elegant, graceful, and agile, as if he already had a solid martial arts foundation before joining the martial arts school.

Another was a disciple who had previously chosen the iron whip as his weapon. Judging by the force of his strikes, he had also broken through about three meridians.

His attacks were swift and precise. Although not as effortless as Adam Harper, he still defeated his opponent within three moves.

The third was a young man in brocade clothes, clearly from a wealthy family at a glance.

He looked even younger than Adam Harper, with handsome features, but his moves were extremely ruthless—defeating his opponent in a single strike, showing no mercy.

His previous opponent had his arm broken by him, and wouldn't be able to practice martial arts for at least two or three months, seriously delaying his progress.

As for Samuel Thompson, he was a bit unlucky—his next opponent was this very person.

Actually, Samuel Thompson's foundation was quite good.

He was naturally strong, with abundant energy and blood. Although he looked chubby, he was actually quite powerful, which was why he made it to the final round.

Samuel Thompson never intended to stand out in his group, so he only planned to exchange a few moves and withdraw if he couldn't win.

The brocade-clad young man threw a powerful punch, and Samuel Thompson crossed his arms in front of him to block, but was sent flying and landed on the ground.

Feeling this overwhelming force, Samuel Thompson's expression changed instantly.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, the brocade-clad young man was already stepping down with a kick.

James Thompson frowned.

Technically, the other party wasn't doing anything wrong, since he had taught everyone that in martial arts combat, one should always press forward and never hesitate—once you make a move, don't hold back.

But since this was just a sparring match between fellow disciples, such ruthlessness was a bit inappropriate.

If that kick landed, even with Samuel Thompson's thick skin and flesh, he would probably break a few ribs.

Just as James Thompson was about to intervene, Adam Harper had already rushed out and yanked Samuel Thompson back a step.

The brocade-clad young man's foot landed on the floor tile with a crisp sound, even leaving a crack in the tile.

"I give up! I give up!"

Samuel Thompson shouted, still shaken, and shot a grateful look at Adam Harper.

The brocade-clad young man glanced at Adam Harper without saying a word, but his gaze was cold and sinister.

James Thompson said in a deep voice, "The assessment is over. The winners of the five groups this time are Ethan Lane, Adam Harper, Charles Brooks, Miles Gordon, and Ethan Scott.

Each of you has opened at least four meridians. According to the ranks of the acquired stage, you can already be considered mid-stage acquired.

So from now on, I will tailor the course progress to your level. You don't need to train with the others.

But don't get arrogant. Before you graduate, if any disciple surpasses you, they can still challenge you.

That's all for now. Any injured disciples, come with me to the back hall. I'll apply medicine and bandage you up."

Chapter 9: Protagonist Template

"If it weren't for you today, I'd have gotten a real beating. You're truly my own brother! Come on, let's go, forget this stuff—I'll treat you to some meat at lunch."

Adam Harper had just picked up his tray to get some rye buns when Samuel Thompson pulled him aside.

"Did your dad give you money?"

Samuel Thompson's father had nearly emptied his savings to send him to the martial arts school, so he hardly gave him any pocket money.

"Heh, I stashed away a little before, and a couple of days ago I used it for a little gambling and won some."

Gamblers don't deserve sympathy.

Adam Harper, to keep him from losing all his secret stash, figured it was better to have a big meal and satisfy their appetites.

But before leaving, Adam Harper still grabbed two eggs from the martial arts school.

These were good stuff—if you skip the rye buns, you can't skip the eggs.

Samuel Thompson took Adam Harper to a small eatery, with only three tables in total.

"Don't be fooled by how small this place is—the owner is said to have been a chef for a big family in Jingzhou Prefecture. His skills are the real deal."

Samuel Thompson skillfully ordered a few dishes, and soon the owner brought them out.

Adam Harper noticed the owner was missing a hand, with a spatula tied to his wrist, its edge sharpened so it could even be used as a kitchen knife.

After the owner left, Samuel Thompson lowered his voice and said, "The owner's had some bad luck. I heard that when he was cooking for the master of that big family, he was a bit late, and the young master got hungry, so they chopped off his hand, beat him up, and threw him out to fend for himself.

Actually, it was because the servant in charge of buying ingredients didn't deliver them on time—he just got caught in the crossfire."

Adam Harper had heard plenty of stories like this.

Still, once those big families hired cooks and such, common folk flocked to them.

In these troubled times, becoming a servant in a big family at least meant you didn't have to worry about starving or suddenly losing your life.

Adam Harper tasted a few bites, and the food was indeed much better than what he'd had at random restaurants and taverns before.

"Brother, you're really going places this time—being specially trained by the head of the school, you've at least got a shot at the innate stage!"

There was envy in Samuel Thompson's tone, but no jealousy.

He had seen Adam Harper's hard work with his own eyes.