Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Written Examination

Half a month slipped away without pause for those diligent students, lost amid their busy routines, and before they could feel they had truly reviewed enough, the final written examination loomed imminently before them.

At this moment, some of them became irritable, anxious, helpless, and lost confidence in themselves; others exuded confidence, fearlessness, resilience, and ease. For them, the two exam papers that would determine the worth of their three years of predawn diligence and relentless effort held no dread, for they often told themselves, "I have given my utmost; even if I fail, I will have no regrets."

Upon the upper balcony of the Bohui Pavilion stood five figures. Every two of them held a scroll-like object, each nearly ten feet in length; in the center, a man wore a fearsome demon mask. His attire was simple, fluttering gently with the breeze, imbuing him with an air of effortless grace.

Before the building, several hundred stood in neat formation, gazing up at this elusive and enigmatic Vice Sect Master.

With a wave of his embroidered robe, the figures at his sides unfurled the scrolls. Fourteen golden characters gleamed: "With the spring wind at your back, your steed gallops swift; in one day, you’ll behold all the blossoms of Chang’an."

The Vice Sect Master began to speak: “You are the most rigorously selected group in over twenty years, and likewise, the most outstanding disciples.”

At these words, every face was lit with pride. Every eight years, Blood River Tower recruited five hundred disciples, but with a population in the millions across the Great Ming, and countless martial sects, each year tens of millions were eliminated from contention.

These five hundred standing here were truly the cream of the crop, yet it was not enough. They would need to endure yet more hardship, more tempering. During their trials, some would break, would suffer, would nearly lose hope—but that was the very purpose for which the sect was founded: to select the most exceptional talents.

It sounded unbearably cruel, yet was it not an echo of the world at large? The higher the level, the fewer the chosen; with each step up the ladder, a companion would be lost forever. In the end, one might find oneself alone, with only an unwavering drive for the summit to keep one moving forward.

Pausing, the Vice Sect Master continued: “But as you are now, you’re still far from truly outstanding. And so, your first trial begins! You have come from all corners of the Great Ming, united in pursuit of a single goal. Do you still remember, as you stand here today, what wish you made in your heart at the beginning?”

His voice was soft, yet somehow every word reached each listener as if he were speaking face to face.

His gaze drifted, as though recalling something distant, and with a gentle tone, he said, “I remember standing here just like you, with the previous Sect Master before me. To be honest, I didn’t hear a single word he said. All I could think was, ‘Could he hurry up? I just want to take the exam!’”

At this, the crowd burst into laughter.

At the sound, the Vice Sect Master smiled and went on: “I won’t speak of lofty ambitions, nor dwell on how arduous these years have been. I’ll only say this: decide your answer with certainty, and write it with unshakable confidence.”

As his words fell, his white robes billowed without wind, and in the next moment, he soared into the air, drifting away like a maple leaf.

“The first round of the written examination begins!”

The gong rang out, and the candidates began to enter in succession. Hundreds filed into their assigned examination rooms in perfect order.

Each room contained an invigilator and ten students, leaving plenty of space.

Gu Fanshuang glanced at the exam paper on her desk and immediately set pen to paper. Since no group members were assigned to the same room, the candidates around her were all from other classes and groups.

Within the exam hall, all were focused on their work—some pondering, some scribbling furiously; the invigilator sat unmoving at the podium, his gaze tracking every movement. Only the faintest chirp of cicadas could be heard, but these too soon faded, leaving the candidates in perfect silence.

Save for the soft sound of pen on paper, no other noise existed. This utter quiet pressed down with an unprecedented weight.

For those from the Heavenly Class, however, such pressure was greatly diminished. Especially for Gu Fanshuang, whose brows were smooth and whose pen never hesitated. For someone of her erudition, the literary and historical topics posed little challenge.

Yet the next question caused her hand to falter for a moment.

“Who was the driving force behind the Jizhou Mutiny in the Sui dynasty?”

A sudden smile appeared on Gu Fanshuang’s lips. He had not come to escort her into the examination hall, but he had still left her a gift.

“I won’t let you off so easily when I get back,” she thought, her smile growing brighter.

Writing down the name “Zhangsun Zheng,” she quickly returned to her steady pace.

The exam was divided into three levels of difficulty—easy, medium, and hard—each worth thirty-three points, for a total of ninety-nine.

By now, those around her had already reached the medium section, some encountering ambiguous questions that left them scratching their heads, staring up at the ceiling.

Gu Fanshuang, however, was already working through the difficult section, her answers flowing with ease; most required but a moment’s thought.

Elsewhere, Xue Jiahua and Baxia were much the same. Though Baxia seemed a little less accomplished than the other two, being a member of the Heavenly Class meant his talent and comprehension far exceeded the majority.

Time slipped away; an hour and a half had passed before they knew it. A few were already reviewing their answers, while most were making a final push.

Elsewhere—

Su Bai was seated cross-legged, cultivating his internal arts, when he suddenly felt his energy turn chaotic, a force rampaging within him. He stopped at once, sealing his acupoints. A moment later, a surge of blood rose up and he coughed it from his mouth.

Weakened, Su Bai reflected: “Another failed attempt to break through. I was too impatient, my foundation lacking. I focused only on inner strength, neglecting the basic cultivation of the body.”

He withdrew a jade bottle from his robe, shook out a pill, and swallowed it, then began to meditate and regulate his breathing.

“It seems this Bone-Tempering Realm requires more from the body. I could once rely on my innate talent to advance, but now that’s wishful thinking. No wonder even Qi Menghe, for all his efforts to transmit energy to me, couldn’t help me break through the fifth layer of Bone-Tempering.”

Having figured this out, Su Bai decided to rest for a while and try out some of the simple mechanical arts he had learned at the Grand Evolution Sect. There were also several basic movement techniques and secret arts recorded in the Blood River Tower’s manuals.

He needed to practice all these, and besides, his human-skin mask had been in use for quite some time and needed replacement. His master had said, “I’ve made it for you long enough; you should try making one yourself now.”

Thus, Su Bai would soon need to venture out to gather materials. Of course, the best was human skin, but that depended on luck—he couldn’t just kill someone at random. Besides, the current mask would last a while longer; he simply needed to be more cautious.

After tending to his injuries, Su Bai looked up at the sun, calculated the time, and murmured, “Their morning exam should be over by now. As their groupmate, I’d better go meet them. I didn’t make it this morning; they’ll probably complain endlessly.”

He thought of how, after days of secluded cultivation, his friends hadn’t even glimpsed his shadow.

“They’ll likely demand lunch from me,” Su Bai mused as he dressed and stepped out.

Over the past few years, he had done much work for Sun Xiuyuan and received some rewards—nothing great, but enough to afford a meal or two at the canteen for his friends.

Arriving before Bohui Pavilion, he stopped twenty yards from the entrance—no one was allowed closer. Dozens of disciples guarded every exit.

Su Bai seated himself calmly under a green willow and waited for Gu Fanshuang and the others. He had no concern about their performance—Gu Fanshuang was a model scholar, Xue Jiahua, though seemingly unreliable, consistently ranked among the top three, which spoke for itself. As for Baxia, he reserved judgment.

It wasn’t long before a gong sounded. Su Bai knew the time was up and rose to his feet.

Gu Fanshuang, on hearing the gong, gently placed her brush on the rack and waited for the invigilator to collect her paper. Those around her did the same, waiting to be dismissed.

Finally, as the last paper was collected, the invigilator announced, “All right, you may go. Prepare for the afternoon exam.”

Knowing another hard battle awaited, no one relaxed their tightly strung nerves.

Gu Fanshuang’s face revealed no emotion as she followed the crowd out. The moment she stepped outside, she spotted directly ahead that ordinary, unremarkable face that she could never see through.

A radiant smile blossomed on her lips—the unique, youthful brilliance and fresh beauty of a young woman outshone all the scenery around her.

But Su Bai sensed something amiss in her expression and began to retreat step by step.

As Gu Fanshuang quickened her pace toward him, Su Bai’s steps grew ever more rapid in retreat, until it turned into a full-blown chase, with her pursuing him at a run.

Out of breath, Gu Fanshuang finally shouted, “Stop right there!”

“You think I’m you? If you say stop, I’ll stop?” Su Bai retorted even as he fled, his barbs only making Gu Fanshuang all the more exasperated.

This farce went on for half a stick of incense before Su Bai allowed himself to be caught—determined not to embarrass the young lady by making her chase him in the heat, he feigned a stumble and let her “capture” him.

“Where have you been these days?” Gu Fanshuang grabbed him by the throat with one hand, twisting his right arm behind his back, as if ready to take drastic measures if his answer displeased her.

“Goodness, we just met and you’re already interrogating me like a criminal. I’m a law-abiding citizen—can’t you show a little decency?” Su Bai’s cries of injustice drew curious glances from bystanders, forcing Gu Fanshuang to let him go.

Rubbing his shoulder and shooting her a glare, Su Bai replied, “I’ve just been at my place, practicing when I had time. Besides, my scores are already sufficient; I couldn’t care less about keeping my top rank.”

“So noble and detached from fame—should I ask the teacher to grant you a sage’s title next?” Gu Fanshuang rolled her eyes at his excuse, then turned serious. “I think there’s something wrong with Ni Hanyan in our group.”

“Oh? What’s wrong?” Su Bai raised his brows, feigning ignorance.

Gu Fanshuang frowned, “I sense an inexplicable hostility from her, yet I’ve never met her. My branch has always kept a low profile, rarely offending anyone. I can’t imagine what reason Ni Hanyan might have.”

“Perhaps you’re overthinking it,” Su Bai said with a forced laugh, eager to change the subject. “You must be hungry after the morning’s exam. Baxia and the others have probably already headed to the canteen when they couldn’t find us. Let’s go join them.”

“Wait a moment.” She stopped him as he tried to slip away, lowering her voice. “Do you know something?”

“Of course not,” Su Bai replied, his tone growing less certain, especially under Gu Fanshuang’s icy gaze. “Don’t keep suspecting everything. We’re a group and need time to adjust. After this exam, we’ll have half a month to rest. Over a few meals, all misunderstandings will clear up.”

His words grew feebler as he spoke, especially seeing the coldness in her eyes.

“You really won’t tell me?”

Su Bai fell silent. If he told her now, it would only unsettle her, and she still needed focus for the afternoon exam. After some thought, he remained quiet.

“Fine, I’ll find out myself.” Gu Fanshuang turned to leave, but Su Bai grabbed her arm.

“I’ll tell you after this afternoon’s exam—don’t waste your three years of effort.” Su Bai spoke gently, “And as for Ni Hanyan, don’t worry. I will deal with her. I may not have the powerful backing you do, but removing someone like her is within my means—just not yet.”

Once she calmed down, Su Bai continued, “Teacher probably put Ni Hanyan in our group for the event seven years from now. My guess is, he wants us to choose the second path when the time comes.”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Haven’t you noticed? All the groups this time are composed of two strong and two weak members. That’s not something Sun Xiuyuan could have decided.”

Hearing this, Gu Fanshuang’s pupils contracted sharply. She murmured, “He wants us to turn on each other—only by eliminating the weak, with our teammates’ help, can we pass the final seven-year trial.”

Su Bai nodded. “Our group is the most united, so adding an unstable element makes the ultimate trial harder to choose.”

Noon sunlight baked the stone path beneath their feet. Though the air shimmered with heat, Gu Fanshuang felt as if she’d fallen into an icy abyss.

She lowered her head, a bitter smile on her lips. Su Bai patted her shoulder, saying nothing as they parted ways.

For some, the world is always forcing you to keep running forward. If you stop, you fall into the abyss; only by stepping over the bodies of others do you gain the right to choose. It is not an absolute truth, but for some, it is a law as cold and inescapable as iron.