Chapter 17: From the Heart

A figure appeared at the open doorway of the hall. Several disciples from various sects serving inside rushed forward to block him, but then saw the array guarding the Evaluation Hall open of its own accord before him—stunned, they all halted.

The man wore scholarly robes, with sharp eyebrows and starlike eyes—it was Zhang Sheng. At his appearance, some evaluators were astonished, some disdainful, others expressionless.

Zhang Sheng’s face still bore an unnatural pallor, yet as he stood there, every evaluator felt a faint prickling, burning sensation on their skin—each heart seized with dread!

An elder cultivator ventured cautiously: “Brother Zhang, I heard your Dao power had not yet recovered. I never expected it to be fully restored now—truly a joyous occasion.”

Zhang Sheng replied coolly: “Only with restored Dao power can I face the demons and monsters of all sects.”

The old Confucian, fiery-tempered, could not endure such sarcastic words—he immediately bristled, shouting: “Insolent—”

Before he finished speaking, Zhang Sheng flicked his left hand lightly—and then came a sharp crack! The old Confucian was struck solidly midair by a slap, blood spurting from nose and mouth!

The entire hall gasped in shock!

“I didn’t ask you to speak,” Zhang Sheng said coolly.

The middle-aged Confucian flew into a rage, leaping to his feet and pointing at Zhang Sheng—before he could even open his mouth, another crack rang out—he too received a slap!

“I didn’t ask you to speak either.”

The Evaluation Hall erupted in uproar. Both Confucians were high cultivators of the Four Sacred Academies—how could they offer not the slightest resistance? Enraged, they raised their magic power, about to strike!

Zhang Sheng raised his long, snow-white index finger to his third eye. A streak of green light drifted from its tip—and instantly, misty raindrops began to fall throughout the grand hall. The rain was like mist, like silk, carrying a languid warmth, like spring rain in the Jiangnan region. Yet those evaluators caught in the rain felt as if mountains pressed upon them—unable to move a muscle!

The two Confucians’ bones rattled violently, their magic power dissolving—they collapsed back into their chairs, unable to lift even a finger.

At this moment, only the Daoist of the Wind could move freely; all other evaluators struggled desperately against the rain’s erosion and suppression, unable to utter a word. Only now did they realize Zhang Sheng’s terror—he had single-handedly suppressed five evaluators!

Worse still, their Dao foundations trembled and moaned, as if filled with profound dread of the rain.

One with wide experience immediately recalled a legendary Dao foundation: the Immortal Sword “Green Silk Rain.”

This sword was supremely soft yet supremely hard; its greatest power lay in its ability to erode Dao foundations. A few more cuts, and one’s Dao foundation would descend in rank. This was no joke—it could sever one’s Dao path entirely. No one dared let even a single raindrop touch their skin.

Zhang Sheng walked slowly to the center of the hall, then said: “No need to be alarmed, friends. I merely wish to speak calmly.”

The evaluators cursed inwardly—how could an Immortal Sword hovering overhead be called “calm”? But they dared not voice it; any change in expression might turn the rain into sword qi, piercing their bodies with hundreds of holes.

Hearing Zhang Sheng, the monk hurriedly said: “Brother, speak freely!”

Though immobilized, all evaluators fixed their eyes on the monk—shocked: How could he speak?

The monk noticed their stares, realized his mistake, and quickly snatched a fruit and shoved it into his mouth.

Hm? He can still move? A dangerous glint flashed in Zhang Sheng’s eyes—deep within his pupils, another Immortal Sword faintly surfaced.

The monk gasped in terror, sweat breaking on his bald head—he immediately fixed his gaze on his nose, his nose on his mouth, his mouth on his heart, and sank into deep meditation.

After subduing the entire hall, Zhang Sheng said: “I knew the Unified Examination had long violated regulations, but I never imagined you’d dare act so recklessly—arbitrarily lowering scores on false pretenses! Those two slaps were for my disciple. If either of you two objects, I’ll withdraw the Immortal Sword afterward—come challenge me to a duel!”

Zhang Sheng turned to the old Confucian: “Three cuts won’t kill you—I’ll immediately reincarnate and cultivate anew!”

He turned to the middle-aged Confucian: “You’re trickier—you’ll need four.”

Liu Sigu’s face flushed crimson; the middle-aged Confucian’s complexion shifted between pale and ashen. Neither spoke—nor could they. Their eyes darted about, but the others either stared at the ceiling or closed their eyes in inner observation, avoiding all eye contact. All evaluators knew: grudges had targets, debts had owners. No one wished to be tied to these two Confucians now—especially since they’d never benefited anyone here. Why risk their own necks for them?

Zhang Sheng slowly retracted his sword-rain. He gazed at the two Confucians and sneered: “The scores from the first two rounds won’t change. For this one, I’ll watch how you score! Do as you please—but my Immortal Sword has a bad temper. If I find your judgment displeasing, it might just cut you down! I’ll return to Tai Chu Palace to accept punishment afterward. As for exchanging lives? Ha! Do you even qualify?”

All hearts turned icy—they now understood Zhang Sheng’s resolve.

Freed from restraint, the evaluators exhaled in relief—and immediately turned their eyes to the two Confucians. The two men, who had moments ago been furious and bristling, now sat utterly composed, expressionless, focused entirely on the martial test, never mentioning the slaps again.

Had it not been for Liu Sigu’s swollen cheek and the middle-aged Confucian’s bruised lip, one might think the two slaps had never happened.

Zhang Sheng waited a long time—no challenge came, not even a threat. His Immortal Sword hung idle, leaving him strangely unsettled.

Such unshakable composure forced even Zhang Sheng to admire it.

“Truly patient,” Zhang Sheng sighed.

The two Confucians stared intently at the martial test—heard nothing.

The Immortal Sword had been drawn—but the opponent had tucked his head in. Could he really be expected to drag the man’s head out and chop it off? Zhang Sheng, after all, was not one of them—he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing.

The evaluators understood perfectly: a genius like Zhang Sheng—even if he killed someone right here in the Evaluation Hall—would Tai Chu Palace truly demand his life? At most, they’d sentence him to decades of solitary confinement, then negotiate with the Four Sacred Academies, utter some formalities, pay a sum of Immortal Silver—and let him go in a few years. The dead, however, would stay dead.

Yet the evaluators still harbored doubts: this Feng Yuanjun Unified Examination was unusual—not merely because of those in the Evaluation Hall, but because celestial cultivators from all sects must be watching. So why had no great cultivators stirred? Not even the Four Sacred Academies’ elders showed any reaction?

The martial test had begun some time ago—the battlefield situation now clearly emerged.

The Qing and Huang teams held the north and south respectively, having both completed reconnaissance of terrain and enemy deployment. Neither side’s scouts suffered casualties—a small miracle in itself.

In the south, Li Zhi had originally positioned his formation near the eastern hills, but after the enemy scouts passed through, he shifted westward.

In the northern center stood a girl, exquisitely delicate. After Li Zhi’s scouts had scouted, she moved the central command forward a hundred zhang, seizing a small elevated ground near the central zone.

In the south, Li Zhi gazed northward, but could only faintly see the edge of the central zone. To his left stood a girl holding a jade tray, upon which neatly arranged were over a hundred elixirs—all elixirs issued to common soldiers were here.

Li Zhi said: “Troops value quality over quantity. I’ve concentrated these elixirs—my thirty elite personal guards each receive three. With this, my elite force can fight from start to finish!”

The girl looked up at Li Zhi, admiringly: “Master Li is truly a master of strategy!”

PS: Updates will be irregular.

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(End of Chapter)