Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 101: The Bustling Martial Hall Apprentice Trials, the Low-Key Big Fellow

As dawn barely broke, the entrance to Baolin Martial Hall buzzed with excitement.
The commotion stemmed from the crowd—shortly after the hour of the Rabbit, a dense throng stretched beyond the street, likely numbering in the hundreds.
Today was the day Baolin Martial Hall selected its apprentices.
In Forty-Nine City, any young lad with a spark of ambition for martial arts and a bit of connection naturally flocked to join the fray. After all, the renowned Baolin Martial Hall held only two such apprentice selections a year.
In the queue, some even appeared with families in tow, lugging bedding—likely fresh arrivals from outlying counties.
With so many martial artists gathered in East City, the Police Bureau had dispatched dozens of armed officers to maintain order.
Several outer disciples of Baolin Martial Hall were also sent out.
With these ninth-rank experts keeping watch, no one dared cause a stir, and for the moment, order prevailed.
—
Xiangzi wore a navy-blue long robe, his neatly trimmed short hair gleaming with Stacomb oil—a look that cost him four silver dollars.
Having shaved his stubble and trimmed his eyebrows, paired with a set of spectacles, Xiangzi bore no trace of the mud-caked rickshaw puller with a hemp belt. Instead, he resembled one of those wealthy student lords from Mid-City.
Even those familiar with him might struggle to recognize him at a glance.
Xiangzi stood quietly in the crowd, inching forward with the line, his eyes subtly scanning his surroundings.
Most in the queue wore silk shirts; even those in martial attire carried an air of refinement.
These fourteen- or fifteen-year-old youths clearly came from well-off families.
No wonder—training a martial artist’s skin, muscles, and blood essence was like pouring silver coins into a river. Ordinary households could hardly bear the cost.
Those standing at Baolin Martial Hall’s gate were even more exceptional.
Not to mention the hundred-plus silver coins for the entry fee, the apprentice recommendation letter alone required connections with significant figures in Forty-Nine City.
—
Though the morning light was gentle, the wait was restless.
Among the young lads, Xiangzi, a tall figure, stood out somewhat conspicuously.
Nearby, several youths stole glances at him, wondering about the origins of this nearly overage, unremarkable big fellow.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the front of the crowd.
“Look! It’s Third Miss Li!”
“Good heavens, what a stunning beauty! I heard she’s nearly at ninth-rank perfection?”
“No doubt about it! My brother’s a disciple at Baolin Martial Hall, and he says Miss Li’s talent is extraordinary, her martial insight unmatched. She even took part in the inner disciple trials recently… If not for a slight mishap, she might’ve already joined the inner sect!”
The speaker was a freckled youth standing just ahead of Xiangzi.
Dressed in fine clothes, his privileged background was evident. His mention of “inner sect” drew many eyes.
The youth seemed to relish the attention, a hint of pride flickering across his face.
“Well, Young Master Jiang, I never heard you mention your family had an outer disciple!” another youth nearby chimed in, seizing the chance to flatter.
Pleased with the praise, Young Master Jiang grew even smugger, about to say more when he spotted someone approaching and promptly fell silent.
As they spoke, Third Miss Li approached.
True to her reputation as Forty-Nine City’s famed thorny beauty, this third daughter of the Li family wore no makeup, only the black robe of an outer disciple, yet her graceful figure was undeniable.
Her striking, spirited face was unforgettable at first glance.
Her appearance captivated the crowd, many young lads’ eyes glazing over in a daze.
At that moment, Xiangzi quietly lowered his head.
The morning light filtered through the locust tree leaves, casting dappled shadows across his dark face.
—
“Third Senior Sister!”
Seeing Miss Li approach, the outer disciples bowed in respect.
Miss Li first greeted the old martial artist overseeing the apprentice selection at the gate, saying, “Brother Liu, you’ve worked hard.”
The old martial artist, without rising, chuckled in response.
Then, with a warm smile, Miss Li nodded to the guarding disciples, softly thanking them for their efforts.
In the martial hall, rank was determined by cultivation, not age. With Miss Li nearing ninth-rank perfection, everyone naturally called her Senior Sister.
As for whether these young outer disciples harbored other thoughts, that was anyone’s guess.
At least Xiangzi noticed several stealing glances at Miss Li, their eyes practically sparking with fire.
Xiangzi couldn’t help but chuckle silently, recalling a jest from when he first met Liu Tang:
Women only slow a martial artist’s draw.
It seemed these outer disciples weren’t much better.
His smile faded as he thought further.
By now, Liu Tang and Master Lin should have reached Shen City. He wondered if their journey was smooth, if Liu Tang’s injuries could be treated in time, or if Master Lin could find that marrow crystal for his leg.
Resolving such troubles would take time.
With a sigh, Xiangzi thought,
This parting may last years.
—
Aside from Xiangzi, the other youths were thrilled to see the black-robed martial hall disciples—each at least a ninth-rank entry-level expert!
Having trained since childhood, these youths dreamed of entering the martial hall for a chance at rank. Seeing these revered ninth-rank experts in the flesh naturally filled them with joy.
In contrast, Xiangzi remained calm.
Perhaps he hadn’t noticed himself, but after spending time with Liu Tang and receiving personal instruction from the prodigious seventh-rank martial artist Lin Junqing, mere ninth-rank experts barely impressed him.
After all, he’d killed two ninth-rank martial artists—Liang Hua and Old Zhang.
Well, that wasn’t exactly a proud memory.
Those ranked martial artists, aside from tougher skin and bones and the ability to take a couple more bullets, didn’t seem all that special.
Xiangzi’s calm demeanor caught others’ eyes.
The Young Master Jiang ahead of him, noticing Xiangzi’s attitude, grew curious. After sizing him up, he cupped his hands with a smile. “This brother looks unfamiliar. May I ask which martial hall you trained at before?”
At fifteen or sixteen, Young Master Jiang spoke with a mature air.
Xiangzi paused at the question.
Which martial hall?
Weren’t they all here to become apprentices at Baolin? Why ask about prior training?
He’d misunderstood.
As one of Forty-Nine City’s three major martial halls, Baolin had high standards. Even apprentices needed to be under eighteen and at the Blood Energy Barrier.
Smaller martial halls, with less prestige, couldn’t afford such pickiness, or they’d have no students and go bankrupt.
Thus, many martial artists trained at smaller halls to build their foundation, only challenging the big three’s apprentice qualifications after breaking through the Blood Energy Barrier.
Of course, clan heirs were exceptions, trained by renowned masters with inherited techniques.
But Young Master Jiang’s question had another layer.
Since the Great Shun Dynasty, the court had decreed that only gold-banner martial halls could teach disciples—meaning only they had access to “bone-tempering broth.”
In Forty-Nine City, only three halls had ever flown the gold-threaded banner.
Though the Great Sshun Dynasty had fallen and regimes changed, this tradition somehow persisted, unbroken.
Thus, unless you were a clan martial artist, any ranked martial artist in Forty-Nine City likely came from one of the three major halls.