The Immortal Coward: Path of the Aegis Cauldron

Chapter 5: The Sky Peak Exam

Zarox crumpled the letter until it was shredded, his breath coming in short gasps like someone who had just finished a mountain marathon. "How could they know?!" he hissed, making sure his panicked voice didn't penetrate the thin wooden walls of the shack. He threw the scraps of paper into the small furnace, watching them char into ash in an instant.

That morning, dawn broke with a reddish hue that, to Zarox, looked like blood spilled across the horizon. Without wasting time, he ran to the sect's scrap warehouse. With wild eyes scanning every pile of rusted iron and old armor, he finally found what he was looking for: five layers of thick leather armor rumored to be made from the carcasses of Iron Rhino monsters.

Zarox put on all five layers of armor at once. The weight was extraordinary, nearly ninety pounds weighed down his small frame. He looked like a disproportionate, walking ball of leather. However, Zarox didn't care. Dignity was a luxury he couldn't afford with his life.

As he stepped into the Sky Peak Arena, the atmosphere was already boisterous. Hundreds of outer disciples gathered in the wooden stands, pointing and laughing at the sight of Zarox walking with a stiff, staggering gait.

"Look at that! Is he going to war or is he going to the kitchen to move a cauldron?" shouted a disciple named Adil, sparking an explosion of laughter from the crowd.

"He didn't even bring a weapon! Does he plan to bludgeon his opponent to death with that bulging gut of his?" chimed in Aizhan, a female disciple sitting in the front row, covering her mouth with a fan.

Zarox ignored them all. His focus was on only one thing: surviving until the exam time ended. He stood in the center of the arena, in front of the Exam Proctor who looked bored to death, an old man with a long white beard named Master Zhandos.

"Zarox of the Kitchen Department," Master Zhandos read the scroll in a flat tone. "Your opponent is Eldar of the North Peak. Begin!"

Eldar leapt into the center of the arena. He held a wooden sword coated in spiritual energy, his eyes radiating a high level of confidence. He was a nimble and arrogant fighter. "Fat boy, I do not want to hurt you too badly. Surrender now, and perhaps you will only end up with a single broken rib," Eldar mocked while settling into an attacking stance.

Zarox swallowed hard. He did not move. Instead, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and screamed in his heart, 'Wall, be a wall! Be a stone! Be an unshakeable mountain!'

"Coward!" Eldar shouted, then bolted forward with lightning speed. His wooden sword struck Zarox's shoulder with a loud thud.

Thud!

Eldar was knocked back slightly by the vibration of the energy. Zarox did not even flinch. Those five layers of leather armor dampened the impact with extreme efficiency. Zarox remained standing tall, even though his legs trembled slightly under the weight of the armor.

"What?" Eldar furrowed his brow. He attacked again, this time with three consecutive slashes toward Zarox's chest. 

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Zarox remained motionless, exactly like a newly finished statue. He did not retaliate. He did not dodge. He just stood there, regulating his breath to stay calm while occasionally adjusting the position of his helmet, which had slipped down to cover his eyes.

"Fight back, you idiot!" shouted one of the spectators from the stands. "Why is he just standing there?!"

"Maybe he is meditating in a standing position?" another spectator replied sarcastically.

Eldar began to grow irritated. Sweat started to drip down his forehead. He had expended enough spiritual energy to take down a bull, yet Zarox remained standing firm without a scratch. Eldar spun his sword, unleashing the Hurricane Slash technique. He swung his blade with high intensity, creating a vortex of air that battered Zarox from all sides.

Boom!

Dust billowed high in the center of the arena. Everyone held their breath. When the dust cleared, they saw a sight that rendered everyone speechless. Zarox was still standing there; his leather armor was slightly scuffed, but he himself was completely unharmed. His face even looked a bit bored, though in reality, he was suppressing the urge to cry because he was scared to death.

"My breath..." Zarox whispered softly, his voice barely audible. "I need a drink of water after this."

Eldar panted heavily. His breath came in ragged gasps. His spiritual energy was completely drained from the series of futile attacks. He stared at Zarox with deep disbelief. "What... what kind of monster are you?! How is it possible that you did not move an inch?!"

Zarox did not answer. He just stood there, relying on his low center of gravity due to the heavy armor to remain rooted to the earth. He did not care about dignity; he did not care about the shouts of "coward" echoing from the stands. All he cared about were the seconds passing on the giant hourglass at the edge of the arena.

"Five minutes remaining!" Master Zhandos shouted, his voice echoing throughout the area.

The exhausted Eldar attempted one final attack. He ran with whatever strength he had left, lunging at Zarox with his shoulder, trying to knock down the opponent who looked like a walking fortress.

CRASH!

Eldar slammed into Zarox's chest armor with immense force. However, the effect backfired. Eldar was flung far back, falling as his back hit the arena floor with a heavy thud. He lay there sprawled out, gasping for air, his legs too weak to stand again.

Zarox, who had just taken a massive hit, felt nauseous from the shock, but he remained standing. He looked at the helpless Eldar and then turned toward Master Zhandos with an innocent gaze.

"Is... is the exam over?" Zarox asked in a voice he intentionally made hoarse and weak.

Master Zhandos stood frozen, staring at the unconscious Eldar and the still-intact Zarox, who looked like a sack of rice that could not be knocked over. "The winner... is Zarox."

Cheers and jeers mingled in the stands. Some people threw leftover food at Zarox, while others stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and hatred. But Zarox did not care. He was officially an Outer Disciple.

Just as he was about to step down from the arena, someone in a black robe with a chilling aura passed in front of him. The person intentionally bumped into Zarox's shoulder with considerable force. Zarox nearly fell, but he steadied himself with great effort.

"Do not get ahead of yourself, you armored coward," the person whispered in a voice that sounded like a knife scraping against stone. "The secret of your cauldron will soon be mine. And when that happens, I will ensure you never taste life a second time."

Zarox turned, but the person had already disappeared into the dispersing crowd. Zarox's heart began to pound wildly again, this time with a more dangerous rhythm. He felt his chest, wrapped in armor, sensing a cold sensation lingering there—a sign that the threat in last night's letter was no bluff.

He walked toward his quarters with steps that still felt heavy. As he passed a quiet little gate, he felt a pair of eyes watching him from the darkness behind the sect's stone pillars. He quickened his pace, but suddenly, the ground beneath his feet shook violently.

It was not an earthquake. It was because the sect's protective seal, which should have been solid, was now slowly cracking and shattering right above his head. Zarox looked up, his eyes widening as he saw something descending from the sky—not rain, nor snow, but thousands of thin, glowing needles darting straight toward where he stood.

"Wh-what is this again?!" Zarox screamed as he tried to strip off his heavy armor so he could run faster, but the armor seemed to be stuck fast to his skin. 

He closed his eyes, hugging himself, and hoped for a miracle from the Aegis Cauldron to save him once more, while the needles drew closer, piercing the air with a deafening, lethal whistling sound. The next second, the needles slammed into his leather armor, exploding into spiritual fireballs that enveloped his body in an unimaginable blaze of heat.