Chapter 16: Each Relies on Their Own Abilities

With weapons chosen, Wei Yuan selected the heaviest armor from all the suits—the one with the strongest defense. Its helmet came with a faceguard, and its limbs extended all the way to the backs of the hands and soles of the feet, covering him from head to toe. Most examinees’ long swords were useless against this armor. The treasure chest did contain weapons effective against heavy armor—spiked maces, heavy flails, and three-pronged short swords—but none of the examinees had chosen them, perhaps because they lacked elegance and grandeur, and Wei Yuan saw no one pick them up.

After selecting weapons and armor, the treasure chest vanished on its own. The heavy armor appeared directly on Wei Yuan’s body, donning itself automatically. But this was true heavy armor; once worn, he could only jog.

At that moment, two more figures climbed onto the hill. Both wore Qing Team uniforms; the one in front was slight of build—the scout Wei Yuan had first encountered. Beside him stood a robust Qing Team disciple, only slightly shorter than Wei Yuan.

The slight examinee was saying to his companion: “I’m telling you, there’s a big dumb oaf over here who doesn’t even know how to use a weapon. Let’s team up and take him out first—easy score…”

Mid-sentence, the slight examinee spotted Wei Yuan standing atop the hill, armored in heavy plate, spear held across his chest. His words died in his throat.

Wei Yuan didn’t waste words. He strode forward, his spear lashing out like a dragon—stabbing one, then the other, piercing both through. The two wore sleek leather light armor, elegant and unrestrictive, but as fragile as paper against his lance.

In the southern reaches of the illusion, Li Zhi, armored and sword-belted, stood before his formation. He had already gathered one hundred and twenty examinees, now divided into four squads—front, center, left, and right—neatly aligned.

Looking at the orderly formation, Li Zhi was satisfied. Before the exam, he and several trusted subordinates had practiced military formations tirelessly; just now, he spent considerable time organizing them. Now, these hundred-odd men looked like a unit of elite soldiers.

Outside the formation, a dozen or so scattered figures stood in dull yellow uniforms—all those Li Zhi had not recruited, who had come on their own. A tall examinee with a dao stood before them, pointing to a small mound nearby: “You’ll hold this position. Not a single step back without my order! Before we move out, hand over all your elixirs—collectively managed!”

The mound lay directly in front of the formation, meant to block the enemy’s advance. Placed there, stripped of their life-saving elixirs, these men would be wiped out in a single charge.

The scattered examinees weren’t fools. One immediately stepped forward, shouting: “We came to join you willingly, and you treat us like fools? We’ll die on sight in that spot—how many points will we earn? We won’t even get a spot in the Crimson Tide Sect! What’s in it for us? Why should we obey you?”

Li Zhi turned slowly, gazing at the examinee, expressionless: “Defying orders on the battlefield, sowing discord—execute him!”

The examinee stared, bewildered, before the tall, burly disciple swung his dao—severing his head in one stroke.

The headless corpse collapsed and dissolved into light.

The remaining scattered examinees trembled, no longer daring to resist. They obediently surrendered their elixirs. Though the rules clearly stated that killing a teammate would lower your score, they didn’t specify by how much. Li Zhi’s willingness to kill proved he didn’t care about the rule—and besides, it wasn’t him who pulled the blade.

Li Zhi turned back to the entire formation and declared loudly: “You’ve all seen it—no jesting in the ranks! This is a martial test—it’s a real battlefield! We’re outnumbered. We must stand united. The enemy is a rabble. If you follow orders, I, Li Zhi, will lead you to crush their camp and enter the Immortal Sect together!”

Hearing “enter the Immortal Sect together,” the examinees knew the hope was slim—but their blood still boiled.

Inside the celestial hall above, the six assessors sat in place, gazing downward, taking in every detail of the illusion.

The old Confucian stroked his beard and smiled: “Li Zhi has turned a group of children into a semblance of an army in a single day—he knows how to kill to establish authority and how to inspire. The Marquis Hui truly has good fortune—born a fine son.”

But the old Confucian didn’t say Li Zhi resembled his father; everyone present knew what the Marquis Hui was like.

The middle-aged Confucian bowed to all sides: “You’ve all seen how this boy has performed these past two days. The final trial is crucial for him. I humbly ask you to show leniency. Our Academy will surely repay you.”

The young cultivator suddenly grinned: “You want to secure Li Zhi first place to build momentum for a meteoric rise? Fair enough. But the young lady happens to be stubborn—she also wants first place. What now?”

The middle-aged Confucian frowned deeply, pleading: “The young lady’s desire is mere pride. Winning first place brings her no real advantage. Could you not yield?”

The young cultivator chuckled: “Yield? Tell that to the Bao family—not me!”

“If the young lady is willing to show grace, we shall reward you handsomely.”

The young cultivator sneered: “The things you poor scholars can offer? The young lady won’t even glance at them.”

Seeing the two grow more entrenched, the elder cultivator gently stroked his beard and cleared his throat: “Since we’re at an impasse, let each side rely on their own abilities.”

The middle-aged Confucian nodded: “That’s best.”

The young cultivator glared at the elder, then turned to the Daoist Fufeng and the monk. Since taking Duan Yusheng, the monk had remained silent and scored with impartiality. But from another angle, he was the type who couldn’t be swayed—no one’s words mattered. All assessors had long abandoned trying to win him over.

Daoist Fufeng was a master of deep cunning. After two trials, no one knew whom he truly intended to protect. The young cultivator glanced at him only out of idle hope, expecting no reply.

Among the six assessors, the two Confucians of the Four Sacred Academies were united. The rest belonged to different factions, each with their own agendas and proteges. Thus, the Four Sacred Academies held a decisive advantage in scoring—they could suppress any candidate’s score and send them straight to the Cave Heaven. Only the Bao family, powerful enough to defy the Four Sacred Academies, dared openly compete for the top rank.

The young cultivator stood alone. He was at a severe disadvantage. It was obvious the two Confucians would suppress the Bao girl’s score. To turn the tide, he needed another ally—to suppress Li Zhi’s score as well.

On his face, the young cultivator wore resentment—but his mind raced, calculating whom he could sway, when he could strike at the Four Sacred Academies. Yet no solution emerged.

Just as the young cultivator was at a loss, Daoist Fufeng spoke: “In the previous two trials—spiritual and literary—you two gentlemen showed great care for my Tai Chu Palace disciples. After returning, I pondered long and hard, feeling I owed you nothing in return. Today, I shall repay you.”

The young cultivator was stunned and delighted. The two Confucians from the Four Sacred Academies were shocked, unable to understand why Fufeng had suddenly turned against them. Didn’t he fear they would join forces and give low scores to the candidates competing for the Tai Chu Palace’s slots, ruining his plans?

The old Confucian’s eyebrows shot up. He coldly said: “Then I’ll show no mercy—don’t blame me for my pen’s cruelty!”

Daoist Fufeng spread his hands, inviting him to proceed.

The old Confucian’s face darkened with rage. He sat motionless, silently plotting, occasionally exchanging glances with the middle-aged Confucian.

At that moment, a loud crash echoed—the great hall’s doors were kicked open!

(End of Chapter)