Chapter 78: What He Taught

Zheng Fa stepped onto the plank path the moment he realized this thing was purely a mind game—it actually swayed when you stepped on it!

The swaying wasn't large, but that unsteady feeling induced intense unease.

Standing there, gusts of fierce mountain wind slammed into his face, making his clothes flap violently.

A slight downward glance revealed the valleys ahead seemed bottomless.

In such an environment, anyone taking the Rune Law exam would be nervous, whether or not they had acrophobia.

Add to that the time limit on the plank path, and the exam became outright cruel—there were evil people in Jiushan Sect!

Zheng Fa took two deep breaths, trying to forget the surroundings and focus solely on the rune patterns on the next plank segment.

……

Zhao Mansion, Zhang Shijie's courtyard.

Watching the figures trembling on the plank path in the image, Sun Daoyu's eyes flickered with nostalgia.

He smiled at Zhang Shijie: "Seeing them reminds me of myself back then."

Zhang Shijie glanced at him: "What? Want to go through it again?"

Sun Daoyu let out a dry laugh: "Not that extreme… Back then, my legs were weak too, and I didn't understand why they'd torment us like this."

"Now you understand?"

Sun Daoyu nodded, then sighed: "If you can't stay calm and focus on drawing runes when faced with this fake danger and difficulty, such a mind wouldn't survive in a Daoist sect. But… it's better not to understand…"

The faint weariness in his words made Zhang Shijie look up at him.

Sun Daoyu seemed to just be sighing, then praised Zhang Shijie: "According to past Baixian Alliance results, crossing two mountains is average, four is excellent. But to enter Jiushan Sect this time, six mountains are likely the minimum—of course, if you could walk straight to the Ninth Peak like you did, breaking the ten-thousand-year record for new disciples, you wouldn't need to worry about this at all—your shadow still lingers on these nine peaks."

Hearing his words, Lady and the others nearby turned their gazes toward Zhang Shijie.

They had always heard of Zhang Shijie's genius; now they finally felt it firsthand.

"You say your younger brother is aiming for you?"

But Sun Daoyu shook his head: "He's still young—ambition is good… but frankly, even Master doesn't think he can match your talent. Your aptitude for Rune Law is a once-in-ten-thousand-years rarity. Not just this time—no one will break your record for another thousand years."

Zhang Shijie shook her head, disagreeing, her gaze fixed on the floating screen, watching Zheng Fa still climbing upward.

……

Zheng Fa had now entered a rhythm of pattern recognition, or rather, though this exam was designed to test new disciples' mental fortitude,

It happened to suit Zheng Fa perfectly—after so many days of training, he had nearly turned rune pattern recognition into instinct.

Once it became instinct, he could give correct solutions and find answers without conscious thought or fear.

He almost forgot he was suspended in midair—his entire being was filled only with the rune patterns on the plank path.

The exam's difficulty increased gradually.

On the first two mountains, matching rune patterns appeared frequently—one or two out of every ten runes.

This wasn't hard for Zheng Fa, nor for most people here.

In his peripheral vision, he saw over half the candidates had reached the third mountain.

But from the third mountain onward, the difficulty suddenly skyrocketed like a runaway cart.

Matching rune patterns appeared far less often—roughly once every twenty runes.

And the plank beneath his feet vanished faster too—by Zheng Fa's estimate, the time had shortened by a third.

If you didn't step forward after about forty runes appeared on the next plank segment, the Yang Yuanfu beneath you would vanish.

This sudden spike in difficulty caught many off guard—dozens of despairing faces tumbled down like dumplings, their screams echoing through the valleys.

This scene inevitably affected others, causing more and more to fail.

Zheng Fa saw Seventh Young Master—he'd just reached the third mountain.

Seventh Young Master had originally not looked down at the valleys, but tilted his chin, crawling forward with hands and feet, clumsy yet determined—until he heard the screams around him and couldn't help glancing down—he froze.

"Zhao Laosan!"

Zheng Fa called out to him.

"You're the one who's Laosan!"

Seventh Young Master snapped back, teeth clenched, but his limbs were clearly trembling—he stayed rooted in place.

"Zhao Jingfan," Zheng Fa turned to look at him, then asked: "You waited ten years, cursed ten years—isn't it bitter to go back like this?"

"…"

Zheng Fa said only that one sentence, seemingly unwilling to press further, and continued forward.

Watching his back, Seventh Young Master's eyes slowly reddened.

Zheng Fa's state was familiar to him—the numb obsession of the Pattern Sea tactic.

He exhaled, fixing his gaze on the next plank segment—his bloodshot eyes saw nothing else, only these rune patterns he knew, hated, cursed, yet had poured ten years into.

The two moved forward, one walking, one crawling, numb yet steady toward the Ninth Peak.

Gradually, most were left far behind.

Zhou Qianyuan, who had been leading, seemed to sense something—he turned back and saw Zheng Fa rapidly closing the gap.

He had always resented Zheng Fa and harbored a competitive streak; now seeing Zheng Fa catch up, his face showed tension and panic.

Zheng Fa seemed not to notice him—his eyes were locked on the runes, utterly indifferent to who stood beside him.

Others slowed down, but Zheng Fa grew even more immersed, moving purely on instinct, his pace accelerating.

When he passed Zhou Qianyuan, Zheng Fa didn't even spare him a glance.

Zhou Qianyuan stared at Zheng Fa, who had overtaken him without looking back—his steps halted.

Then he saw a figure behind Zheng Fa, crawling and rolling but still moving fast, also pass him.

The man seemed to notice him, stopped, and pushed himself up onto his legs.

Zhou Qianyuan recognized him—the man who had always stood beside Zheng Fa muttering, annoying everyone—he'd even been too lazy to speak to him.

The man made an expression he knew very well—the arrogant look that had always appeared on his own face before.

"I am Zhao Jingfan."

Such a familiar sentence structure and tone made Zhou Qianyuan even more certain that this man was deliberately imitating him, and he couldn't help but feel a bit angry and ashamed.

After saying this, the Seventh Young Master prepared to move forward, but then, as if remembering something, stopped again, pointing at Zheng Fa and saying, "Oh, my talisman Dao, he taught it."

Zhou Qianyuan watched his departing figure, his expression cracking inch by inch.

He understood what this man meant: you still went to Zheng Fa's face to show off.

You can't even beat me, his disciple.

Zhou Qianyuan clenched his fists, quickened his pace, and began to chase after the two of them.

In Young Lady Zhang's small courtyard.

Sun Daoyu watched his movements and sighed, "My junior brother, his heart is troubled..."

Nearby, the Lady and the Young Lady exchanged a glance, both wearing the same look of guilt on their faces...