Chapter 9: Breaking the Impasse

After a moment, Zhang Sheng finally looked up and asked, “Isn’t there still an internal sect review? What’s the standard this year?”

Sun Yu said, “The internal review only looks at the unified exam scores. I heard this year’s margin is ±5 points—within five points, there’s room for flexibility; beyond that, it’s rigidly enforced.”

Zhang Sheng said, “So if Yuan’er scores five points higher than the fourth-place candidate, he gets a slot.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Zhang Sheng lightly tapped the armrest, mentally running through the regulations, every candidate’s background, and Wei Yuan’s strengths and traits. His thoughts paused briefly on Wei Yuan’s fortune, then he shook his head.

In this world, fortune is as countless as hairs—sons of powerful clans all carry some measure of it; otherwise, how else could they have been born into such privilege instead of Wei Yuan? Even if they themselves lack fortune, merely being born into a powerful house ensures others steal fortune from others to bestow upon them.

So it was long said: birth is the greatest fortune.

After a moment of thought, Zhang Sheng made his decision and spoke slowly, “Yuan’er is my direct disciple. For three full years, I have not cultivated or wandered—I taught only him! His literary test will have no rival. With his foundation and fortune, the Dao test is no challenge. The key is the martial test.”

Zhang Sheng took a sheet of paper, wrote a mantra in swift strokes, and handed it to Sun Yu. “Brother, please deliver this to Yuan’er.”

Sun Yu took it, glanced, and exclaimed, “Southern Vermilion Unrevealed Mantra? This is a fortune technique from Tianqing Hall?”

Zhang Sheng said, “Every high-clan youth carries fortune—how could they not know fortune techniques? Our Tianqing Hall’s fortune technique may not rival the Four Sacred Academies’ ‘Xing Li Chapter’ or the Bao family’s ‘Forget the Years,’ but neither of those families aims for Tai Chu Palace this year. It’s enough to counter the other five.”

Before the unified exam, candidates are strictly forbidden from private cultivation to avoid contaminating their foundations. But powerful clans have their own methods—fortune techniques are one such tool. These techniques draw upon one’s own fortune to manifest abilities, and are not considered cultivation. Though the effect is minor without active cultivation, in the martial test, having a technique versus not having one is the difference between a cultivator and a mortal.

Who is Zhang Sheng? He saw at a glance what the high clans would use in the martial test and immediately gave Wei Yuan the missing edge.

Sun Yu held the Southern Vermilion Unrevealed Mantra and spoke slowly, “When I first entered the sect, I was bullied and mocked by clan youths. Back then, I was weak, too timid to fight back. Even now, I regret it. This time, I’ll shoulder the blame with you, Brother. Why can they do it, and we cannot?”

Zhang Sheng said, “Then I entrust Yuan’er to you. I must now enter seclusion and restore my Dao power before the martial test ends.”

Sun Yu was shocked. “That won’t do! The Li Quan Powder’s potency is fierce—you must seclude yourself for at least three days! If you don’t complete the seclusion, your Dao foundation may be damaged!”

Zhang Sheng replied calmly, “Those people, once they set their eyes on something, assume it’s theirs by right. If Yuan’er breaks free, we’re reclaiming what’s ours—but they’ll see it as him stealing from their plate. Given their nature, will they let it go? After Yuan’er finishes the exam, they’ll surely demand a ‘discussion.’ That’s my duty as his teacher.”

In the dormitory, Wei Yuan had set aside the regulations and sat before his desk, mentally reviewing all he had learned.

After Li Zhi left, three or four more groups came to knock—same words, same tone. None matched Li Zhi’s bearing or demeanor; Wei Yuan refused them all.

After hearing Li Zhi’s words, Wei Yuan understood his position. Li Zhi spoke sweetly, but though Wei Yuan knew little of military tactics, he had memorized history backward—he knew full well that once absorbed into the military system, one loses all autonomy: ordered to charge, you charge; ordered to die, you die. The vanguard commander sounds noble, but when armies clash, who else is cannon fodder but him?

The martial test required no overthinking—adapt on the spot, take down whoever you can. So Wei Yuan now silently recited the ‘Tang History,’ recalling every explanation Zhang Sheng had given.

Night fell swiftly. The door opened soundlessly. Wei Yuan sensed it and turned.

Sun Yu stood at the threshold, surprised: This child has astonishing spiritual sensitivity!

Wei Yuan recognized Sun Yu—he knew the man was close to his master—and rose quickly to bow. Sun Yu handed him a sheet. “This is the mantra your master gave you. Memorize it. If anything’s unclear, ask me—I can stay half a moment longer.”

Wei Yuan took the mantra and saw the title: ‘Southern Vermilion Unrevealed Mantra.’ Below were several hundred characters—a partial technique, designed for those not yet cultivated, so it was simple. He read it once and grasped it fully; two points remained unclear, he asked Sun Yu, and soon understood the whole.

Seeing Wei Yuan had mastered the technique, Sun Yu gave a few more pointers on using fortune techniques, then slipped away silently.

As soon as Sun Yu left, Wei Yuan began cultivation.

The Southern Vermilion Unrevealed Mantra was a Tianqing Hall secret, prized for its balanced efficacy with no obvious weakness. As the technique activated, Wei Yuan felt an invisible force within him stir, flowing into gentle warmth that spread through his body. Then the room grew brighter, and his body filled with surging power. He tried lifting the desk—it weighed hundreds of jin—and raised it effortlessly.

He set the desk down, stepped forward, and crossed the room in one stride. He tested several agile maneuvers, then ended the technique.

All fortune techniques draw power from one’s own fortune—the mantra clearly warned against prolonged use. So after testing, Wei Yuan stopped. Yet when he ended it, the invisible force within him showed no reduction.

Wei Yuan sat cross-legged, carefully sensing the experience. The Southern Vermilion Unrevealed Mantra enhanced all physical functions—strength and speed each increased by roughly one hundred percent. Since childhood, Wei Yuan had been exceptionally strong; with this technique, he was like a tiger given wings.

Now, Wei Yuan stopped reciting history. He focused all his attention on mastering the Southern Vermilion Unrevealed Mantra—he knew this was the key to the martial test.

On Xianshan, days and nights had no meaning. Between light and shadow, the second morning arrived.

Wei Yuan and the other candidates were summoned early to the square and given breakfast. The so-called breakfast was merely a cup of clear water—after drinking, fatigue and hunger vanished, replaced by full vigor.

Then several Daoists led the candidates out of the dormitory to a square. At its far end stood a grand hall, inside which twenty jade-colored cushions lay arranged. Beside each cushion stood two incense burners, emitting thin, curling smoke.

An elderly Daoist stepped out of the hall holding a stack of white paper. With a sweep of his sleeve, each candidate received one sheet. As soon as the paper touched their hands, a cultivation technique appeared upon it.

The elderly Daoist spoke gravely: “This is the examination technique. Memorize it. When your number is called, enter the hall and sit on your assigned cushion to activate the technique. This method awakens your destiny’s innate talent—it is crucial for the Dao test. Do not be distracted. When the bell rings, immediately cease and leave the hall. Understood?”

“Understood!” the candidates replied in unison.

The elderly Daoist nodded, then raised his voice, resonant as a crane’s cry: “Dao test—begin!” The sound soared high into the clouds.

(End of Chapter)