After leaving the four-man squad, Matthew did not pay much attention to the invitation from just now, turning and walking straight toward the reception window.
He remembered Regg mentioning that having a Class holder badge would make things much more convenient when moving around the inner city—whether it was accepting quests, entering specific venues, or dealing with the various factions in the city, a badge would always save a lot of pointless questioning and suspicion.
At first, Matthew had felt that the badge was optional, but having been proactively approached by a stranger after stopping for only a brief moment made him re-evaluate his situation.
“If they were just acting out of goodwill, that would be one thing...”
He analyzed calmly in his mind, “But based on my past experience, this kind of sudden approach often has other motives.”
He did not want to waste time on unrelated trouble. If he could avoid it in advance, that would naturally be for the best.
A badge was the simplest barrier of identity.
With this in mind,
Matthew walked up to an open window and explained his purpose to the young man in a dark uniform behind the counter:
“I would like to apply for Class holder qualification assessment.”
“One gold coin. Fill out your information first,” the young man said, casting a flat glance at his clothes. “The test will be afterward.”
Matthew said no more. He took out a gold coin, placed it on the counter, and picked up a pen to write.
If this were in Anda Town, such an assessment fee would be enough to make many people gasp—one gold coin could get quite a lot of things done there.
But this was Abilan County.
Since stepping into the inner city, Matthew had gradually felt the ubiquitous “thresholds.” From lodging to dining, from conducting business to socializing, every single place reminded him of the clear and hard dividing line between here and small towns.
It really is the county seat... even a basic certification like this requires a hefty fee upfront.
There was no resentment in his heart. Instead, a clear realization dawned on him—everything here was built upon the exchange of strength and resources.
Fortunately, with his current accumulation, one gold coin was indeed no longer a burden. Without hesitating, Matthew handed over the gold coin, took the form, and quickly filled in the necessary information.
A moment later, a young attendant led him toward the back of the hall.
Passing through a stone corridor, the light gradually brightened. Old shields and weapons hung on the walls on both sides as decoration, and a faint scent of leather, sweat, and metal floated in the air, seemingly seeping out from the training grounds over the years.
Matthew followed behind the attendant with steady steps, his mind quietly active:
Is the assessment of a Class holder's rank based on life level, or actual combat ability?
If it was solely based on the rank of his life level, he was currently only at the Brass Rank.
After all, he had only experienced two life level breakthroughs. As for the third breakthrough to the Silver Rank, Matthew was still preparing for it.
But if it was based on actual combat performance, having survived a life-and-death struggle against an opponent like Nathan, he already possessed the strength of a Silver Rank.
If this test can truly measure actual combat strength, then for me, perhaps it will allow me to understand my own standing more clearly.
In that case, this one gold coin won't be spent in vain.
At the end of the corridor was a thick oak door. The attendant pushed it open, and the scent of the training ground rushed over them.
Before them lay a spacious outdoor training field.
Quite a few people were practicing there. When Matthew stepped inside, it did not cause the slightest ripple.
“This way.”
The attendant guided him in a soft voice, much gentler than the young man at reception earlier, his demeanor showing a touch of attentiveness.
Matthew nodded slightly and followed him through the entrance of the training ground, stepping onto a spacious area paved with blue flagstones.
His gaze calmly swept across the entire field—
On one side stood a row of about a dozen iron training dummies, their bodies covered in dents and scratches of varying depths.
On the other side, low stone railings simply partitioned off several sandy areas, where broken wooden targets and scattered arrows lay on the ground.
Although the entire venue had no fancy decorations, every corner exuded an aura of actual combat, honed through years of dedicated training.
The attendant led him to the center of the field and quietly withdrew.
Only Matthew and a middle-aged examiner, who had been waiting there for some time, remained on the field. The examiner wore a dark grey training uniform, his posture as upright as a pine tree and his gaze as calm as still water.
The examiner was in no hurry to speak, choosing instead to scrutinize Matthew carefully for a moment.
As a veteran examiner, he was long accustomed to observing and evaluating each applicant before a test. If the other party was a noble descendant, there would often be special arrangements, as a Class holder badge was sometimes nothing more than a status symbol to the powerful.
However, the youth before him had a calm expression. At first glance, the examiner had thought he might be a low-profile young master from some family, but after looking at his clothes, he dismissed that guess.
His attire was not luxurious, his hair was simply black, and he wore the standard outfit of an ordinary adventurer.
Looking closer, the examiner noticed more details. Matthew's steps were steady, his breathing long and even, and the sword at his waist, though unremarkable, was well-maintained. Beneath his calm exterior lay a sharp edge tempered through actual combat.
Years of examining experience allowed the examiner to quickly form a preliminary judgment: this young man was by no means a wet-behind-the-ears rookie, but an experienced Class holder who had undergone considerable training.
After a moment, the examiner slowly spoke:
“The Class holder qualification assessment is based on actual combat performance. You may choose the rank you wish to challenge.”
He paused slightly and continued to explain the rules:
“If you choose to challenge the Black Iron Rank, an examiner of the same rank will fight you. The rule is: endure twenty exchanges under his offensive, during which you must score at least three valid hits on the designated areas—the breastplate, shoulder guard, or the weapon-wielding wrist. During the process, you must not step out of the boundary marked by the white line on the edge of the field.”
He spoke at a steady pace, as if stating a routine matter, and then added the cost:
“The price of the assessment depends on the chosen rank. There is no extra fee for the Black Iron Rank, while the Brass Rank requires a payment of one gold coin.”
Saying this, the examiner's gaze lingered on Matthew's face for an extra moment.
Many newcomers would choose a lower rating to save gold coins, but his intuition told him this young man before him might be different. Thus, he continued in the same steady tone to state the next option:
“If you choose to challenge the Silver Rank—”
“The examiner will be a Silver Rank Class holder. The rules are the same as mentioned, but the assessment fee for this rank is ten gold coins.”
Ten gold coins.
This was by no means a small sum, even in the inner city.
Having finished speaking, the examiner said no more, simply standing quietly in place with his usual expression.
He showed no sign of urging or suggesting. Those eyes, which had scrutinized countless challengers over the years, calmly watched Matthew, waiting for him to make his own decision.
...
...
Rate on N.U.
