"Are you sure you want to apply for the Mount Shu assessment?" the steward looked at Zhao Yu with some surprise, "To assess as a menial disciple, you at least need to have reached the seventh level of Body Refinement..."
He knew exactly how Zhao Yu had spent the past three years.
All day long, he was either flirting with the maids or trying to charm old aunties—forever professing love and flirting around without ever being seen seriously cultivating.
"Try it out?"
Zhao Yu smiled and stretched out his hand.
The steward cautioned, "I've reached the ninth level of Body Refinement, so if you can't handle it, just cry out..."
Having said that, the two clasped hands and began to arm wrestle.
Right from the start, the steward used fifty percent of his strength, aiming to teach Zhao Yu a lesson.
Unexpectedly, a strong rebounding force came from the grip.
"Eh!"
