Chapter Forty: The Provincial Examination

Outside the eastern gates of Hangzhou.

It was already deep into the night, and the surroundings lay in utter silence. Occasionally, a gentle breeze stirred, rustling a few leaves.

Suddenly, a sharp "whoosh" cut through the stillness, jarring against the tranquil scene.

Out of thin air, a flash of golden light appeared, outlining a human figure. With it came a swirl of dust, drifting slowly to the ground.

“Whew…”

Yi’an exhaled a heavy breath, feeling as though his entire body was about to fall apart. It was his first time performing this technique—not only had it consumed seventy percent of his internal energy, but it had also pushed his physical endurance to the limit.

“It seems that merely cultivating the arts isn’t enough. I must also begin training my body,” he sighed softly, reflecting on his current frailty.

Yet, after practicing the Five Elements Daoist Arts, he felt power coursing through his veins. Strictly speaking, this was his first foray into spellcraft, and he was quite satisfied with the results.

If he ever encountered a formidable foe like Xi Bojun again, one whose spirit could leave his body, he would not find himself as wretched and helpless as before.

The Five Elements Daoist Arts were his gateway into the realm of spells.

Now, all he needed was to advance step by step, raise his cultivation, and when he undertook more profound disciplines, the results would surely be twice as effective with half the effort.

“But first, I should recover my energy. Then it’s time to head back and prepare for the upcoming provincial examination.” Yi’an gave a wry smile. Glancing at his nearly depleted reserves of energy, he felt powerless—after all, the Foundation Establishment stage focused solely on building a base. Only upon reaching the Returning Essence stage would he truly begin refining his qi.

At that point, his circumstances would improve greatly. He would no longer find himself drained after casting a single spell.

…

Today was the opening day of the provincial examinations.

All the aspiring scholars from across Jiangsu and Zhejiang had arrived in Hangzhou days earlier to prepare. Years—ten, in many cases—of bitter study had been for this very moment. Some would shine, others would leave dejected, yet none dared to slacken, for this was a turning point in their lives. Even if they failed, there would be another chance.

The Yanbei Dynasty placed no age limit on scholars; as long as one had earned the status of “xiucai,” they were eligible to take the provincial exams.

Thus, among the candidates were many old scholars who had failed time and again yet refused to give up.

Early in the morning, Yi’an donned his best attire and set off for the exam grounds.

While the court’s attention to the provincial examination was not as intense as for the metropolitan exams, the process was still tightly controlled. In an age when less than one in ten could read, a “juren” was still considered an elite member of the Yanbei Dynasty.

Accordingly, days before the exam, the governor of Hangzhou had increased the city’s security, determined to prevent any troublemakers from disturbing the event.

If anything went awry with the provincial exams under his watch, his position would be forfeit. For other matters, perhaps he could suppress the problem—after all, with the emperor far away, he was the local overlord, and even imperial envoys had to show him some deference.

But the provincial exams were different. Countless eyes watched every development, and Wansong Ling was not a man to be trifled with.

Wansong Ling was a master of diplomacy—that was the governor’s assessment. The man could mingle with both upright officials and cunning courtiers, a riddle to all who observed him. Not only did he hold a high office, but the emperor also regarded him highly. For this reason, he was not someone the governor could afford to offend.

Soon, Yi’an arrived outside the examination grounds. No personal belongings were allowed inside—not even a brush or a sheet of paper—to prevent any form of cheating or favoritism.

Once the exam began, patrollers would roam each area at random intervals.

Just as Yi’an finished his inspection and was about to enter, he heard someone calling his name from behind.

He turned to see a group of breathless young men hurrying toward him. Upon closer look, Yi’an recognized them as students from Jingyuan Academy, with Huang Zongping at their head.

“Zongping, didn’t I tell you it was him? You didn’t believe me,” one of them said, clapping Huang Zongping on the shoulder and laughing after catching sight of Yi’an.

Yi’an remembered him from the last literary gathering—he and Huang Zongping were both from Jingyuan Academy, though they hadn’t distinguished themselves last time.

Huang Zongping nodded slightly and addressed Yi’an: “Yi’an, it’s been several days since we last met. Are you prepared for the provincial exam?”

Since the previous gathering, Huang Zongping had regarded Yi’an as his greatest rival. He had secluded himself, burying his head in the classics, determined to reclaim his reputation in this examination and prove himself the foremost scholar.

Yi’an ignored the question and asked instead, “Do these empty honors really matter so much?”

Huang Zongping was taken aback, surprised that Yi’an would pose such a question. Did Yi’an truly see all that he strove for as mere vanity?

With that thought, Huang Zongping retorted, “We scholars ought to possess the courage to excel. Only by standing out can we fulfill our worth, serve the nation, and benefit the people.”

Yi’an replied, “Sophistry and hollow words. It’s human nature to crave fame, but if you can’t even admit what you desire, then that’s all you’ll ever be.”

He had no patience for those who sought conflict. Huang Zongping should be grateful he hadn’t gone too far—otherwise, Yi’an wouldn’t hesitate to teach him a lesson.

He had never courted trouble, yet it seemed to find him regardless.

Yi’an could only sigh inwardly. All he wanted was to take his exam in peace.

As for those empty honors, he truly cared little for them. To come first would be nice, but failing to do so would not disappoint him. He would simply face it with equanimity.

Huang Zongping, upon hearing this, was furious. He had hoped to surpass Yi’an in the exam, to suppress the other’s arrogant spirit from their last encounter. But seeing Yi’an’s utter indifference, Huang Zongping realized that even if he won, there would be no satisfaction in it.

Without another word, Yi’an entered the examination hall.

“Don’t be upset, Zongping. I think he’s just lacking in confidence and trying to provoke you on purpose,” a fellow student tried to comfort him.

Huang Zongping simply nodded, saying nothing. It was clear he hadn’t taken the advice to heart. To him, Yi’an’s attitude seemed genuine, and with that thought, his own competitive spirit diminished greatly.

A worthy opponent could spur one to greater heights, but when that opponent refused to engage, what was the point?

Huang Zongping was left with nothing but a sense of defeat.