A Hundred Paces, a Pierced Willow

Among the beta testers, there was a unified term for ordinary clansmen with immense potential like Scarface Johnny—Godslayers!

Godslayers had a very clear standard in "Tower Defense and Civilization." The first criterion was loyalty, which had to be at least 95.

This was a hidden rule discovered by the beta testers. Take Yang Jie’s tribe as an example: including his officers, the number of clansmen whose loyalty reached above 95 could be counted on one hand.

Just this loyalty requirement alone eliminated more than 90% of all lord players. In Yang Jie’s tribe, only three people had loyalty above 90: Scarface Johnny (97), Wendy (96), and Old Jill (95).

And this data applied only to top lords who had developed well, like Yang Jie.

For the other lords still struggling with subsistence, anyone with loyalty reaching 85 was already a pillar of support.

Yang Jie was puzzled as to why Scarface Johnny, who had never spoken a word, could possess such high loyalty.

Besides the loyalty requirement, another critical criterion was a character’s hidden talent—understood as potential!

This was the main factor that determined a character’s maximum limit, but the specific rarity of this hidden attribute needed no further elaboration.

He opened Johnny’s character panel.

Name: Johnny Audek
Race: Andes Wild Ratman (Subspecies)
Loyalty: 97
Character Traits and Skills:
1. [Fight to the Death]
2. [Seething Rage]
3. [Pierce the Willow at a Hundred Paces]
4. [Tempest Cross Slash] (Not Activated)

Hidden Potentials:
1. ???
2. ???
3. ???

There were three hidden potentials, but all were currently displayed as question marks, meaning that at this stage there was still no clue as to what these three critical abilities were.

Very soon, the selection trials entered the preparation phase.

“The first event is a 5000-meter run. All contestants, please get ready. Start at the training ground, circle half the town, and return here to assemble.”

“For this round, only the top 100 will advance. All others will be eliminated.”

Wendy stood on the podium, explaining the rules to the contestants.

“Our official staff will monitor the entire course. Any ratman who breaks the rules will be immediately disqualified. We hope all contestants will abide by the rules.”

“The first round of the long-distance run will begin in three minutes!”

Scarface Johnny loosened his limbs, his feet tapping alternately on the ground as he made his final preparations and tried to calm his nerves. He couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

For those who desperately yearned for success, opportunity was everything.

Among the five hundred-strong crowd, there were quite a few familiar faces: Carl, son of Old Jill; Greyly, son of Old Sha; and several others who had distinguished themselves in previous battles under Yang Jie.

Three minutes flew by…

The contestants positioned themselves behind the starting line. At Viktor’s command, the 5000-meter race officially began…

Carl, the son of Old Jill, charged to the front of the pack. Many young female rats had come to watch, and as a newly adult, Carl’s eagerness to perform was at its peak.

Bringing up the rear was Greyly, Old Sha’s son.

A few days before, Greyly’s father had told him that if he could pass the first two rounds of physical tests, he’d have a way to get him into the Guards.

Hopes are always beautiful; reality is always cruel. Less than a minute into the race, Greyly had already fallen to the back of the group.

“Who’s that fat one lagging behind?”

“Don’t you know? That’s Greyly, Old Sha’s son.”

“So fat! Why would he even try for this selection? Isn’t he just humiliating himself?”

“Who knows? If he wasn’t in last place, no one would even notice him.”

A few young female rats with neatly groomed fur gossiped on the sidelines about every noteworthy contestant.

“Look, Gina, your beloved Carl has pulled ahead by more than 200 meters!”

“Oh, stop it, you’re so annoying.”

The female rat called Gina blushed, covering her burning cheeks with her paws.

Nearly ten minutes into the race, quite a few contestants, like Greyly, simply gave up.

Greyly’s plump body slumped against a milky white boulder. He was drenched in sweat, panting heavily like he’d been in a sauna for an hour.

“Ugh, this really isn’t rat work… Forget it.”

In truth, Greyly had run less than ten minutes, and covered only about 1500 meters…

In the second group, Scarface Johnny controlled his breathing and conserved his energy. Five kilometers was nothing to him—just a warm-up. There were several events to go, so saving strength was key.

To Johnny, being first or hundredth made no real difference.

Fifteen minutes later, Carl stretched out his arms and crossed the finish line to a chorus of cheers. A gaggle of young female ratfolk surrounded him, offering water and massages, a testament to his popularity.

The second and third place finishers soon followed, and the rest trickled in.

When the hundredth contestant crossed the line, the first round ended. All others were eliminated.

“The next event, brick-carrying, will start in one hour.”

Wendy and a few assistants meticulously recorded the names of the top hundred finishers, including Scarface Johnny, who ranked seventy-ninth.

The tedious waiting time passed quickly. The second round, the brick-carrying contest, was about to begin. This round would eliminate 60 of the remaining contestants.

The rules were simple: in five minutes, whoever carried the most bricks advanced—a straightforward test of strength.

Three hours later, the round ended…

Scarface Johnny advanced again, ranking seventh, still holding back some of his true strength.

Carl placed third.

“Those whose names are called will participate in the archery contest in half an hour. The rest are eliminated!”

After announcing the results, Wendy hurried away to attend to other matters.

Half an hour later, the forty remaining ratfolk gathered at the training ground's range.

The archery contest was simple: at a distance of fifty meters, each contestant faced a straw ratman dummy with a wooden core. Each received ten arrows. A hit to the head scored five points; the chest, two; anywhere else, one.

To keep the contest fair, everyone used the same target, meaning each of the forty contestants took their turn.

Carl went first and scored 43 points with ten arrows—eight in the head, one in the body, and the last in the chest.

He was clearly too eager; with his skill, he could have done even better.

Thunderous applause erupted. Carl basked in the attention, running around the field with his arms wide, as if victory was already his.

The round proceeded swiftly. Aside from Carl, who also scored 41 in his second round, none of the other thirty-eight contestants broke forty.

The head of the straw target was a small area, so most aimed for the chest.

Finally, it was Scarface Johnny’s turn. Waiting nearly an hour in the holding area had left him uncomfortable.

As an outstanding hunter team leader, archery was second nature to him, akin to a Chinese person wielding chopsticks.

Johnny took his place: right hand on the bow, left hand with an arrow, eyes fixed on the target fifty meters away.

“Enough—no more holding back…”

With practiced ease, he drew and released—each arrow arced perfectly to the head of the straw ratman.

Five points!

A wave of exclamations swept the stands. Scarface Johnny’s marksmanship was not only formidable but graceful.

He quickly won a cluster of diehard fans, including Yang Jie, the ratfolk chief watching from the shadows.

To Johnny, it was baffling—how could fifty meters be a challenge for a hunter like him? If you couldn’t hit a target at fifty meters, how could you ever hunt rabbits on the plains?

After gauging distance and strength, Johnny moved with clockwork precision—draw, aim, release. The entire process was smooth as flowing water.

For the last nine arrows, he didn't even need to aim—two seconds per arrow, and his bow arm never wavered.

Each arrow traced the same parabola; none missed, all ten struck the head.

Fifty points—a perfect score!

As the crowd was still reeling, Scarface Johnny had already finished his debut and stepped down.

The assembled ratfolk were stunned. Most had never seen such brazen marksmanship.

Astonishment, incredulity—even Carl was left red-faced.

Only Yang Jie was unsurprised. With a talent like [Pierce the Willow at a Hundred Paces], if Johnny couldn’t hit a fifty-meter target, what was the point?

The others, unaware of Johnny’s potential, were left thoroughly embarrassed.

This unremarkable, scarred rat had performed modestly in the first two rounds; who could have guessed he’d shine so brilliantly in the final event?

A perfect score of fifty was clearly not Johnny’s limit, but this was a selection for Guards, not professional archers. The contest’s difficulty was set accordingly low.

Otherwise, no other contestant would have had the heart to compete any further…