Chapter 10: Not Overstepping the Rules

Among the boys and girls in the square, twenty heard a summons; after entering the hall, they saw numbered cushions appear. No one dared delay—they quickly found their assigned spots, sat cross-legged, and activated their cultivation manuals.

High above, another hall hung suspended in the air, but below, the examinees occasionally looked up and saw only blue sky and white clouds.

Inside the aerial hall stood seven desks, six of which were occupied. The six occupants wore differing attire: one Daoist, two cultivators, two Confucian scholars, and one monk. Before each of them, the hall below was perfectly transparent, revealing the examinees seated cross-legged within.

These six were the examiners of this unified test, holding life-and-death authority over the candidates, each radiating an air of distinction—but all ignored the empty desk beside them.

At this moment, in the great hall below, the incense burners beside the first batch of examinees began emitting columns of light, varying in thickness and brightness.

The left column represented innate talent; the right, destiny and fortune. Before half the time had passed, over half the candidates’ columns ceased growing, their heights barely reaching a foot. A few breaths later, only the last candidate’s innate talent column still rose, finally stabilizing at three and a half feet, as thick as a fist, with a golden thread weaving continuously within. His destiny column, though two feet tall, was dull gray, lacking any special quality.

In the aerial hall, the elder cultivator said: “Innate talent is middling, but possesses the sharpness of metal—slightly elevate his rating.”

The other examiners nodded in agreement. With no dispute, each wrote their evaluation on their respective registers. In the center of the evaluation hall stood a stone stele; as the six examiners finished their assessments, the stele displayed the candidate’s name and final score—the average of all six ratings.

With the sound of a bell, the first batch departed, and the next batch entered in sequence—Li Zhi was among them.

Li Zhi sat, closed his eyes, and instantly two columns of light erupted from the incense burners on either side!

The left column was emerald green, swirling with rolling waves, rising over eight feet before halting; the right column blazed golden, reaching nearly ten feet. Then, countless specks of light emerged within the golden column, coalescing into a small tripod.

In the evaluation hall, the elderly Confucian stroked his beard and smiled: “Both innate talent and destiny are top-tier; the bell and tripod are auspicious signs. I, Liu Sigu, have never seen such talent in my lifetime. Lord Hui’en truly raised an excellent son!”

The elder cultivator said: “It seems the Four Sacred Academy will gain another fine disciple—perhaps even one who joins Master Liu’s inner circle.”

The old Confucian laughed more merrily: “Of course, of course!”

Each examiner held a list: which candidate belonged to which immortal sect was clearly marked. Li Zhi, eldest son of the Marquis of Hui’en in Feng Yuanjun, was slated for the Four Sacred Academy. But lists and quotas were not always aligned—for example, five families vied for the three slots of Tai Chu Palace. Final placement depended on both the candidate’s performance and the examiners’ discretion.

Those not on the list were understood implicitly—after all, even second-tier cave-heavens had been fully allocated, leaving only scraps for them to fight over.

Liu Sigu picked up his brush and wrote “Tian Jia” and “Forty” beside candidate number nineteen for Li Zhi.

By tradition, columns under three feet were Class Human, four to six feet Class Earth, seven to nine feet Class Heaven, and over ten feet Class Supreme. If a column resonated with heaven and earth, strange phenomena appeared—common phenomena were graded into three tiers, six sub-tiers, and nine grades; ritual vessels like bells, tripods, and incense burners were top-tier. Any phenomenon automatically elevated the evaluation.

Liu Sigu’s “Tian Jia” was the old rating system; “Forty” was the new score—both given at maximum. The other examiners’ old ratings were identical: all “Tian Jia.” The new scores were finer-grained, with slight variations.

Li Zhi’s final evaluation was Tian Jia, score thirty-eight. Though not the absolute peak, his path was the Way of Kingship—destiny mattered most; foundation was secondary.

In the next two batches, several prodigies emerged—some with nine-foot innate talent, others with nine-foot destiny—but none matched Li Zhi’s completeness.

When the fourth batch entered, one candidate’s destiny suddenly surged, breaking past ten feet in an instant!

The examiners were startled, fixing their gazes—the candidate was a youth, his features delicate as a girl’s. His innate talent was ordinary, only five feet, but his destiny was astonishing—exceeding ten feet, rising another half-foot before halting. The first Supreme-class candidate appeared!

There truly is a child of destiny!

The six examiners grew solemn, falling silent.

The immortal sects had come to Feng Yuanjun precisely to recruit children of destiny from this turbulent land, hence the allocated slots. But the problem was: the slots had already been claimed before the exam began. This candidate was not on any examiner’s list—this was awkward. To produce a child of destiny and refuse him would be too obvious.

At that moment, the youth’s destiny changed again—the column turned dark red, revealing a vast sea of blood!

The young monk suddenly smiled: “Ah, the Floating Pagoda Blood Sea! This destiny is too hot for your factions—I, the Great Precious Pure Land, have use for it. I shall take this child.”

The Daoist in Tai Chu Palace robes opened his eyes, asking calmly: “Do you have an extra slot?”

The monk chanted a Buddhist mantra: “I have no extra slot—but I shall obtain one immediately after the divine test concludes.”

All nodded silently, inwardly alarmed. This monk could command a slot on demand—he clearly held deep influence within the Great Precious Pure Land, not to be trifled with.

None among them sought to compete for the boy. As the monk said, though he was a child of destiny, his fate carried heavy karmic bloodshed—dangerous to himself and others, difficult to manage. Besides, every examiner’s list was full—no room remained.

As the examiners opened their registers to write, the monk suddenly said: “I have decided on this child. When you write your evaluations, be merciful. If his rank is too low, and we lose our connection, it will be unfortunate. I am empty of all things—yet I hold one clinging grudge: I remember every slight.”

The examiners all assured him they would not let the master’s opportunity slip away. The monk then fell silent.

On the stele appeared a line: Duan Yusheng, Tian Bing, Thirty-Five.

After another batch of examinees departed, Wei Yuan heard his number called.

Wei Yuan entered the great hall with the other candidates and saw his number glowing on a cushion—he walked over and sat down.

As a clear chime echoed through the hall, the divine test began.

Wei Yuan calmed his spirit and activated the method prescribed in his manual.

(End of Chapter)