Chapter 3 — The Strongest Waste Item in Martial Arts

The speed test was conducted on the eastern track of section A. Sprinting one hundred meters, the timer was timed to the nearest ten-thousandth of a second. The contestants in zone A have finished the test, with the best result being 0.47 seconds. The person who achieved that achievement was a noble family from the Southern Territory, called the "Speed God" by the commentators at the scene. I stood on the starting line. The timer returned to zero. “Prepare—”I bent my knees slightly. “Start!”I took a step forward. Just one step. The clock does not jump. That's not right, it jumped. The number displayed above is: 0.00 seconds. Everyone at the scene saw me take a step. But no one saw me reach my destination. Because when their eyes caught up, I was standing at the finish line. I even stood there for a while. The referee looked at his watch, then looked at me, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Is... is the watch broken?" The technician checked three times. Not broken. Is my speed has exceeded its capture limit. It didn't keep time. My performance was recorded as: 0.00 seconds, exceeding the measurement limit. The arrogant Southern Vuc known as the "God of Speed" stood on the stage, his face ashen. Without saying a word, he turned and left. This time the general supervisor did not say anything more. He just quietly took out his phone and called a number. "Connect me to the Director of the General Institute of Martial Arts." "Yes, right now, immediately." The news could no longer be hidden. What happened in Area A spread throughout the exam hall like a gust of wind. "Haven't you heard? There was a person in Area F who punched the tester, was sent to Area A to check again, and then punched and destroyed Area A's Thien Rank tester!" "Is that fake? The limit of the Thien Rank tester is ten million!" "It's completely true! Moreover, that person also said he only used three parts of his power!" "Where are you? What background?" "I heard his name is To." Dien. No family, no master, no rank. Coming from Area F.” “…Area F?” The gossip spread more and more widely. In area C, To Khai Minh had just completed the strength test, scoring 867,431 points, ranking first in area C. Reporters were surrounding the interviewer: "Young Master To, I think this year's exam champion will be—" "Get out of the way." The assistant behind him suddenly approached and whispered a few words in his ear. To Khai Minh's face changed slightly. "Who are you talking about?" "To Dien. It's... your cousin." To Khai Minh's expression stiffened for a second. Then he burst out laughing. That smile carried a bit of contempt. "That trash?" He lowered his voice. "What did it come here for? Who sent it here?" To Khai Minh interrupted his assistant and coldly snorted. "It's been eighteen years, I don't know what level he has? It's just that the testing machine is broken." The assistant opened his mouth but didn't say more. However, To Khai Minh saw the eyes of the people around him. Those eyes made him uncomfortable. It's curiosity, wonder, and reevaluation. Those eyes should only belong to him. “Go.” He waved his sleeve. “Go to area A and see.” Fifteen minutes later, To Khai Minh led his entourage to appear in area A. At this time, area A had been cleared. Only me, the general supervisor and a few people in black uniforms remained. These people wearing black uniforms were a team that had not appeared since the exam began, the inspection team under the General Institute of Martial Arts. The supervision team has the highest standards. To Khai Minh was stopped at the entrance. “Contestants from area C are not allowed to enter area A.” “I am To Khai Minh of the To family.” He showed his card. The doorman's face was expressionless: "The To family can't do it either." Su's face

Khai Minh was quiet. According to his perception, the two words "To family" are enough to open any door. He took a deep breath, raised his voice and said: "The person inside is from our To family! To Dien is my cousin!" That voice was not small, it penetrated nearly half of Area A. I heard it. I turned my head, looked through the security check, and saw To Khai Minh's face. On that face were clearly written two words— Control. He wanted to come "receive" me. It's like picking up a lost piece of luggage. The general supervisor frowned and looked at me: "You know him?" I was silent for two seconds. "Yes." "Do I need to let him in?" I thought. "No need." The general supervisor nodded and did not ask further. To Khai Minh's face outside the door was completely dark. He was rejected. Rejected by a "waste" that he had defined for eighteen years. This made him feel an extremely wild anger. But he quickly suppressed it, pulled the corner of his mouth, and said to the assistant next to him: "Go tell grandpa, To Dien is at the exam center. The test machine has a problem, it's causing a joke." "Young master, but the data..." "If I say it's a problem, it's a problem." The assistant was silent. Third exam subject. Real combat.