The "Babata" was originally a free accessory included with the earliest models of "virtual pods", meant to help users connect with their virtual Earth network accounts and AI assistants. However, later—likely to provide everyone with the easiest and fairest way to join the Martial Association (since virtual pods were still expensive)—Virtual Earth Network Corp. began selling Babata assistants separately at an extremely affordable price. Now, anyone could register for a virtual Earth network account and have their own virtual AI assistant through this device.
And thus, the method of joining the Martial Association through the Babata assistant was born—
All a Babata holder had to do was 100 push-ups, 100 squats, 100 sit-ups, and a 10-kilometer run every single day for three years, with the Babata assistant monitoring their progress in real time. If they succeeded, they would be directly accepted into the Martial Association.
The Martial Association's reasoning was brutally straightforward: 'If you can't even muster the discipline for something this simple, what the hell makes you think you can practice martial arts?!'
And yet, even this was considered too light and too short by some within the association. After all, those who joined through traditional martial arts schools had typically endured five, six, seven, eight, even over a decade of grueling training in harsh conditions. A hundred push-ups? A hundred sit-ups? A hundred squats? If any disciple in a martial arts school dared slack off like that, they'd get a beating from their master!
But the training regimen and the three-year timeframe were said to have been personally set by the Martial Association's founder—the legendary, godlike martial artist, Mu Taro himself. Who would dare question or change it?
Yet, to everyone's shock, even though these requirements were considered laughably easy by martial artists, very few people actually stuck with it. As a result, only a handful had ever joined the Martial Association this way over the years. Most who succeeded were either poor but not starving kids or rural youths who could supplement their training with hunting (though the latter were even rarer).
For someone as dirt-poor as Satan, if he actually tried to train like this for three years without proper nutrition, he'd just wreck his body. So after a few attempts, he gave up.
'That was the cruel irony—the "easiest" method was, in reality, the hardest.'
And those who did have the means and discipline to complete it while also yearning for martial arts? Most of them were already in established martial arts schools.
(As a side note, nearly all martial arts schools and dojos forbade their disciples from joining the Martial Association through this second method. Some, like the strict Orin Temple on Mount Orin, even banned all electronic devices—any monk caught with one would get a brutal staff beating.)
But for Satan, neither method was possible.
The first? His father was bedridden—how could he just leave to join a martial arts school? And no school would take on the burden of caring for his sick father. It was impossible, and Satan held no illusions about it.
The second?
Satan glanced at the metal bracelet on his wrist, sighed, and considered taking it off—but ultimately left it on.
Which left the third method, the one his father had mentioned.
Every year on November 11th, the Earth Martial Artists' Exchange Association held an annual exam across its five major branches in the great cities. Elite members of the Martial Association served as proctors, testing and selecting promising martial arts talents. Those who passed gained entry into the association, and if they weren't already part of a school, they might even earn a recommendation to join one.
Of course, they could also choose not to join any school at all—instead earning points within the Martial Association's system to exchange for training, techniques, and virtual network perks, advancing their skills independently.
In a way, the Martial Association itself was like a martial arts school—just far more open and free. Because of this, many hopefuls took the exam every year, some even hiring private tutors just to prepare.
But the pass rate was abysmally low.
This was partly because the examiners—each with their own temperaments, standards, and strengths—made it unpredictable. But it was also due to pressure from traditional martial arts schools. Many who passed this way never joined any school, preferring the Martial Association's self-directed path. Why shackle yourself to a rigid hierarchy when the association offered training, techniques, and sparring partners all in one place?
But if no one joined traditional schools, where would that leave them? So the Martial Association, likely not wanting to push things too far, kept the pass rate brutally low.
And that was why Satan had zero confidence he could pass.
His eyes drifted to a faded poster on the wall—Son Gohan, reigning champion of the World Martial Arts Tournament. He sighed.
"World's strongest… total champion… damn, that must feel good…"
"Son, how will you know if you don't try?" His father coughed weakly. "I think the exam looks for talent, not just strength—otherwise, what's the point? Aren't people supposed to go there to learn? Satan… cough… you've always been sharp. You pick things up fast. Maybe… maybe you can pass!"
Satan rolled his eyes. "And what about your medicine? You expect Auntie next door to feed you and dose you? Think she'd agree to that?"
"You damn stubborn—!" His father weakly thumped the bed. "I hate seeing you like this! I hate that I'm dragging you down! No skills, your mom ran off, and now I'm sick all the time… What future do you have like this?! But if you pass that exam… if you join the Martial Association… everything changes!"
Satan's lips pressed tight, his eyes reddening as he muttered, "Shut up… If you're so tough, get up and hit me!"
"You little…"
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In the end, Satan still went to the East City branch of the Martial Association and signed up for this year's exam.