The woman had come from a small clan. Her name was Yara Straw, her brother, Jen Straw. Jen had the potential, and the wit. “This…” Motte hesitated, although Jen was good, he was not a Khan. “What’s wrong? Is he not fit? He’s your brother too, you know. Why can’t he serve the Khan?” Yara asked. “This is not something I can decide for you, I must ask my superiors,” Motte sighed, and shook his head. “Then… what about this?” Yara said as she poked Motte’s shoulder, before she lay on him, and kissed his ear. “Oh, you!” Motte spoke as he instinctively embraced Yara, and took her to their room.

…

“My lord, I have gathered a total of 51 men! Please inspect them as you wish!” Motte declared after two days of selections. The Khan leaders had gathered on the ground’s stage, even Spout was present.

This was too big of an event to miss!

“Not bad!” Zephyr thought as he scanned the candidates, noting how most were at least Strengths of level five. However, Zephyr needed more than skill, he needed character. As a fighter, no matter how strong they were, if they did not have the discipline and willpower, any investments would end up being wasted.

“My lord, this is Jen Straw, my brother-in-law. I feel he is very fit, please, take a look as a consideration,” Motte reported honestly to Zephyr. Had he rejected, Motte would not have argued. After all, this was an important Khan matter. “Oh?” Zephyr looked at Jen, his age being around his twenties, a Strength of level six, with the skill to boost his chances of being picked. “Forgive me for my selfish choices, My lord!” Motte apologized quickly at Zephyr’s maintained silence. “It’s alright, in the end, who stays and who leaves depends on themselves,” Zephyr said while he waved his hand. He did not want to embarrass Motte.

However, Zephyr was not stupid, he could tell that although Jen was strong, he lacked the capacity for the job. Sooner or later, Jen would not endure for long. “Thank you, My lord!” Motte thanked eagerly. Zephyr nodded, signaling the candidates to step forward. ‘More than I thought,’ Zephyr thought to himself, and nodded.

“Who knew the Khan had such fine men. You were all picked, cause you were the best. However, I will only be needing ten or so people. Being rejected is an inevitable fate most of you will face. However, do not fret! You are still the pride and joy of the Khan!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” the 51 candidates replied earnestly.

Among them, everyone had witnessed Zephyr’s power, they respected him, idolized him even. For them to be personally trained by Zephyr was a great honor. Being disqualified was not bad either, having been acknowledged by the Khan heir.

‘Tsk, I’m being trained by a kid? What does he have that I don’t? I don’t get why she called me here,’ Jen thought to himself, his expression had mirrored his thoughts towards Zephyr.

“Let us begin! First of all, let me remind you all that leaving now is still acceptable. Once I begin your training, I cannot guarantee your safety. You might even die,” Zephyr spoke honestly. Every candidate’s expression changed, yet no one left. “It would seem you’re all made of sturdy stuff, good. Let us begin!” Zephyr commanded sternly. Zephyr roared, and it sent the surroundings into a shiver, it was like a dragon had descended from the sky.

This blast of energy was sent towards the candidates without discrimination. “Woah!” Although Spout and the other leaders were behind Zephyr, they too felt the burst of energy from the boy. For the older veterans to feel this way, there was no doubt as to how the younger clansmen felt. They were all crushed and had difficulty breathing. Suddenly, the candidates felt each tendon and muscle of theirs began being cut, torn, and shredded. Under such immense pressure, they felt as though many blades were within them, which attempted to cut them up.

Screams were heard, and a clansman fell to the ground, spitted a mouthful of blood, before continuing writhing. This power was too much for him to handle. “Take him away!” Spout ordered. Many more soon followed after him, each left shaking on the ground — disqualified. One after the other, many were disqualified, until about 24 clansmen were left, each struggled to hold on. Every remaining candidate was drenched in sweat, their faces were beet red. They had used their all to withstand Zephyr’s push.