Chapter 463: Gold Medal Constable

The next day.

In the courtyard of the Suppressing and Pacifying Office, people were already doing their morning exercises on the martial arts arena.

Chen Wenjing's words were still echoing in his ears—apply for the Constable rank assessment; with his strength, getting a Gold Medal Constable rank would be easy.

The Constables of the Suppressing and Pacifying Office are divided into four ranks: Black Iron, Brass, Silver, and Gold; the higher the rank, the greater the freedom.

Cheng Feng is currently a Brass Constable and can freely accept bounties, but he still occasionally has to be subject to the office's unified scheduling; if he could obtain the Gold Medal Constable waist token, he would be completely free from constraints, able to accept whatever missions he wanted and go into seclusion for as long as he liked, without even having to notify his superiors.

Wang Meng was shirtless in the center of the arena playing with stone locks. Seeing Cheng Feng arrive, he shouted from afar: "Brother Cheng, I heard you took down the Red Lotus Sect's Zhou Kui all by yourself yesterday? Good man, there's been a bounty on him for three years, and many veterans couldn't even catch a glimpse of his tail, but you, on the other hand, plucked him out in a single night!"

Cheng Feng waved his hand with a smile, offered no further explanation, and went straight to the Merit Hall.

Chen Wenjing had also just arrived and was sitting behind a desk drinking morning tea. Seeing Cheng Feng enter, he set down his teacup, his usual smiling expression tinged with a hint of subtle scrutiny.

"You're here? Earlier than I thought." Chen Wenjing pulled a blank application form from under the desk, picked up a brush to write a few words on it, and then pushed it in front of Cheng Feng.

"Fill it out, then go to the martial arts arena and wait. The Gold Medal Constable assessment is personally presided over by the Vice Thousand-Household; he has a bit of a bad temper, so watch what you say."

Cheng Feng took the application form and glanced at it; the content to be filled in was very simple—name, age, current rank, and applied-for rank.

He picked up a brush, filled it out quickly, and handed the form back to Chen Wenjing.

Chen Wenjing took the form, but instead of putting it away immediately, he looked at him again, his tone suddenly becoming a bit more solemn: "Cheng Feng, a Gold Medal Constable is different from a Brass Constable. A Brass Constable is just a Constable, but a Gold Medal Constable already has the qualifications of a Probationary Commandant, and in the event of war, can be directly conscripted as a Seventh-Rank Military Official. Therefore, the difficulty of the assessment is also completely different—you must be mentally prepared."

Cheng Feng nodded, his expression unchanged.

He knew in his heart that the gold content of a Gold Medal Constable in the Suppressing and Pacifying Office was extremely high; the entire Heimu Prefecture Suppressing and Pacifying Office had over a hundred registered Constables, but fewer than ten had obtained the Gold Medal.

Once he passed this hurdle, his status in the office would be completely different; whether it was the autonomy to accept missions, discounts on merit exchanges, or the authority to access confidential files, there would be a qualitative improvement.

More importantly—the status of a Gold Medal Constable would be enough to save him more than half the trouble when he produced the head of Liehuo Fawang.

"I understand. Many thanks for the reminder, Master Chen." Cheng Feng cupped his hands in a salute and turned to walk out of the Merit Hall.

On the martial arts arena, the Constables doing their morning exercises had stopped at some point, gathering in twos and threes on the sidelines, looking at the approaching Cheng Feng with complex gazes.

They all knew that this newcomer had only been in the office for a little over half a month, and the speed from Apprentice Constable to becoming a regular and then applying for the Gold Medal Constable assessment was jaw-dropping. Some admired him, some were jealous, and some just wanted to watch the show.

Wang Meng was genuinely happy for him; he leaned over, patted Cheng Feng on the shoulder, and lowered his voice: "The Vice Thousand-Household is already on his way. Brother, let me tell you, this official follows the proper military style and hits extremely hard. Don't go head-to-head with him; dodge if you can. If you last for one stick of incense, you win."

Cheng Feng nodded, walked to the edge of the arena, and closed his eyes to rest.

After a stick of incense had burned, a heavy, powerful sound of footsteps came from the direction of the main hall of the Suppressing and Pacifying Office. Cheng Feng opened his eyes and saw a burly middle-aged man in a black military robe striding into the martial arts arena.

This man was about forty years old, with a square face, thick eyebrows like blades, and an old scar across his left brow bone, his entire body exuding a sharp, murderous aura honed on the battlefield.

The Constables present cupped their hands in unison: "Greetings, Vice Thousand-Household!"

The Vice Thousand-Household's gaze was like lightning, sweeping across the arena before finally settling on Cheng Feng.

"It's you? The one who jumped from Apprentice to Gold Medal assessment in half a month?"

"Yes," Cheng Feng replied, cupping his hands.

The Vice Thousand-Household looked him up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on his hands, which were too fair to look like a martial artist's, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, unclear whether it was contempt or scrutiny.

"This official's surname is Han, Han Tieshan. The rules for the Gold Medal Constable assessment are simple—you don't have to beat me, just last for one tea-time under my hands, and you pass. Weapons or bare hands, it's up to you; don't hold back, and if you get killed, that's on me."

Once these words were spoken, the atmosphere on the sidelines suddenly became heavy. Wang Meng and several other veterans showed worried expressions—Vice Thousand-Household Han Tieshan was a notoriously ruthless man in the Heimu Prefecture Suppressing and Pacifying Office, with the cultivation of the Half-Step Gang Qi Realm, and was undefeated in the office. For a Gold Medal assessment presided over by him personally, it would be a miracle if two out of ten passed.

Cheng Feng, however, just nodded, walked to the center of the arena, placed one hand behind his back, and extended the other forward.

"Please grant me your instruction, Master Han."

He did not take a weapon. The defensive and offensive power of the Flood Dragon Body gave him the confidence to complete this assessment in his own way—not by dodging or using tricks to last a tea-time, but by squarely tanking it with his defensive power.

After all, he was still a level below the Vice Thousand-Household!

Han Tieshan frowned slightly at his gesture, then let out a cold snort: "Bold."

Before the words had faded, he had already moved.

The speed and explosive power of the Half-Step Gang Qi Realm were far beyond the likes of Wang Meng; Han Tieshan just tapped his foot lightly, and his figure approached Cheng Feng like an arrow released from a bow, his right fist carrying a sharp, wind-tearing sound as it struck straight at Cheng Feng's Tanzhong Point on his chest.

This punch had no frills; it was purely the military style—fast, accurate, and ruthless, a killing blow.

Cheng Feng did not dodge.

In the incredulous gaze of everyone, he turned slightly and met Han Tieshan's fist head-on with his chest.

A chorus of exclamations erupted from the sidelines. Wang Meng even shouted out loud: "Brother Cheng, are you crazy—!"

A dull thud interrupted Wang Meng's shouting. Han Tieshan's fist slammed solidly into Cheng Feng's chest, emitting a muffled sound like a beating drum. A visible shockwave exploded from the point of impact, kicking up a circle of dust.

Then everyone's eyes widened.

Cheng Feng did not budge.

His feet hadn't even left the ground by half an inch; only his upper body swayed slightly, and the fabric on his chest was shattered by the force of the punch, revealing the intact skin underneath—there wasn't even a red mark.

Han Tieshan's pupils shrank violently.

Although he had only used sixty percent of his strength in that punch, it was already enough to repel a Martial Artist at Organ Refining Peak.

The young man in front of him was clearly at the early stage of the Organ Refining realm, but the defensive power of this physical body had already far exceeded the level that the Organ Refining realm should have.

The sensation of that punch landing didn't feel like hitting a human body, but rather like hitting a tempered steel plate.

"Good physique." Han Tieshan retracted his fist and stepped back half a step, a strange look flashing in his eyes. "Again—this time I won't hold back."

Cheng Feng took a deep breath, his Qi and Blood surging within him, and he pushed the power of his Flood Dragon Body to seventy percent. He clenched his fists, sank his feet slightly, and assumed a stance to meet the attack head-on.

"Please."

Han Tieshan grinned, the scar twitching with the smile, looking particularly ferocious. He threw both fists out, the wind of his punches as sharp as blades, and a set of refined military Armor-Breaking Fist techniques enveloped Cheng Feng like a storm.

A series of dense, dull thuds erupted on the martial arts arena, as if someone were beating a giant drum. Every time a punch landed, the Constables on the sidelines gasped.

Yet Cheng Feng was like a rock, standing in place, as steady as Mount Tai. When Han Tieshan's fists hit him, he would at most step back half a step, then stabilize his figure and meet the attack again.

His clothes had already been torn to shreds by the force of the punches, revealing the smooth and sturdy muscle lines of his upper body, which shimmered with a faint, dark luster in the morning light—that was a thin layer of Qi and Blood scale membrane formed on the surface of his skin after the Flood Dragon Body was initially formed; it was almost invisible to the naked eye, but its defensive power had increased by another notch.

The time for one tea-time had passed.

The Constable responsible for timing on the sidelines stared blankly at the incense burner for a moment before shouting loudly: "Time is up—!"

Han Tieshan withdrew his fists at the sound, stepped back two paces, and looked down at his own hands. His knuckles were slightly bruised and purple, aching faintly—after fighting for this tea-time, Cheng Feng hadn't fallen, but his own fists had been badly shaken by the counter-shock force.

The Martial Arts Arena was deathly silent.

Then Han Tieshan threw his head back and laughed, his voice as resonant as a bell, startling the sparrows in the old locust tree into a flurry of flight.

"Good! Good lad! I've been a Vice Thousand-Household at the Guard Office for ten years, and this is the first time I've run into someone who could stand there and take my hits while making my hand ache!" He strode forward and slapped Cheng Feng heavily on the shoulder, "You passed! Gold Medal Constable, you truly deserve the title!"

The sidelines immediately erupted. Wang Meng was howling with excitement, the other constables were cheering one after another, and even those few veterans who had originally harbored jealousy were forced to show a look of admiration.

Cheng Feng's performance in this assessment was so shocking that everyone forgot how he had won, remembering only those muffled, drum-like thuds and his figure that had remained motionless from start to finish.

Han Tieshan unhooked a palm-sized gold medal from his waist; the front was engraved with the seven characters for "Guard Office Gold Medal Constable," and the back still featured the spread-winged Xiezhi, but unlike the copper medal, this Xiezhi had a short Sword gripped beneath its claws, symbolizing that a Gold Medal Constable possessed the authority to wield a sword and kill.

"Take it." Han Tieshan slapped the gold medal into Cheng Feng's palm, his voice lowering slightly, "Lad, I look forward to your performance from here on out."

Cheng Feng took the gold medal with both hands and solemnly cupped his fists in a salute. The gold medal felt cold and solid in his hand, significantly heavier than the copper one, and its sharp, distinct edges pressed into his palm with a clear and steady sensation.

From this moment on, he would no longer be subject to the orders or constraints of anyone in the Guard Office; he could take missions if he wanted to, or go into seclusion if he chose.

Cheng Feng tucked the gold medal away close to his body, bowed to Han Tieshan and Chen Wenjing respectively, and then turned to walk out of the Martial Arts Arena amidst the noisy discussions and cheers.

As he walked out of the main gate of the Guard Office, the morning light was just right.

Cheng Feng stood on the steps and let out a long, turbid breath.

His own path ahead could already be vaguely seen.