Raising Hell

When the bell signaling the end of the Literary Assessment rang, all the exam papers appeared in the Review Hall. Each had been automatically bound into a booklet, with the candidate's name and number written on the cover. Six reviewers sat at the head of the hall, responsible only for the policy essays. The first two sections of the Literary Assessment had fixed answers, so there was no need to trouble the reviewers. A few low-ranking disciples scanned the papers with a magical artifact, and the scores were tallied automatically.

All six reviewers had profound cultivation; multitasking was a basic skill for them. At that moment, each had several exam booklets spread out before him—seven or eight at the least, more than a dozen at the most. The monk had opened twenty papers at once, and by the time it took to drink a cup of tea, he had already moved on to another batch.

In the reviewers' eyes, grading wasn't difficult. The candidates were only children, after all. It was good enough if they wrote their policy essays in a sound, conventional manner based on historical facts. Few could come up with anything original, and fewer still could make their arguments hold together.

The children of powerful clans clearly performed better in the Literary Assessment. After all, they had renowned teachers to guide them and had started their studies early. Besides, the Literary Assessment had been held for hundreds of years, and most powerful clans knew roughly what topics to expect. Many teachers had made their names by specializing in the exam questions; once famous, they were naturally recruited by powerful clans.

The reviewers were all grading quickly. They could finish evaluating every paper in less than an hour.

As he read, the old Confucian suddenly slammed the table and roared, "This is utter nonsense!"

Why get so angry over grading a paper?

The other reviewers looked over. The old Confucian was reading Wei Yuan's exam, so they beckoned with their hands and drew out copies of it to read for themselves.

The young cultivator tapped the armrest lightly as he read. "This Book of Recommending the Virtuous is rather original. Hmm. In times of peace, appoint men based on virtue; in times of disorder, appoint men based on ability. Interesting."

Liu Sigu looked from side to side and said gravely, "The ancient sages said long ago that men should be appointed based on virtue. This boy isn't from our Confucian tradition. If he had insisted on appointing men based on ability, I could accept that, and I would think highly of him for it. But how can one appoint men based on virtue at one moment and ability the next? The sages' principles have endured through the ages. How can they be swayed this way and that? If we don't punish such fence-sitting, I fear we won't be able to convince the masses!"

The middle-aged Confucian from Four Saints Academy chimed in as well. "Liu's words may be a little harsh, but his reasoning is sound. The rules encourage original thinking, but that doesn't mean candidates can defy the classics and put forward heretical ideas. Since this boy has entanglements with Taichu Palace, I wonder what Daoist Fu Feng thinks?"

The Daoist looked at the two Confucians, his brow gradually furrowing.

The old Confucian suddenly sneered. "Taichu Palace seems to be involved in quite a lot this year. If my old eyes grow dim later and my brush gets a little too heavy, I hope Junior Brother Fu Feng won't take offense."

The old Confucian's meaning was perfectly clear. This year, five factions were vying for Taichu Palace's three spots. As a reviewer, Daoist Fu Feng was caught in the eye of the storm. Some wanted him to give Taichu Palace a hand, some wanted him to press it down a little, and others wanted him to remain impartial. The balance was delicate, and the Daoist was already at his wits' end. If Liu Sigu really did mark the paper carelessly and ruined some faction's plans, the Daoist would be the one to bear the blame.

So, though the Daoist was furious inside, he could only keep his expression neutral. "Just be fair."

The old Confucian nodded with satisfaction and wrote two marks on Wei Yuan's paper: Earth Grade C, eight.

The policy essay section was worth twenty points at most. That score of eight immediately knocked Wei Yuan out of the Blessed Land rankings.

The other reviewers said nothing more and continued grading the papers in their hands. A short while later, the scores from every section had been tallied, and a line of small characters appeared on the stone tablet:

Wei Yuan, Earth Grade A, nineteen.

That nineteen included the points from the first two sections. Wei Yuan had scored the full ten points on those sections of the Literary Assessment, and no one could tamper with that. Of the twenty points available for the policy essay, he had ultimately received nine, bringing his total to nineteen.

In the dead of night, a side hall was still lit.

Sun Yu sat at the table, checking the time now and then, his expression shifting between dark and bright. Just then, the hall door suddenly swung open, and Zhang Sheng walked in.

Seeing him, Sun Yu was taken aback. "Why are you out of seclusion already? Weren't you supposed to stay in until after tomorrow's Martial Assessment?"

Zhang Sheng's face was noticeably pale. "I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, so I paid a price to leave seclusion early. The Dao Assessment and Literary Assessment are both over now, right? How did Yuan'er do?"

"I'm waiting for the results too. They should be out by now." Sun Yu called over a young Daoist. "Go get me the Dao Assessment and Literary Assessment scores."

The young Daoist was startled. "I don't think that would be proper."

Sun Yu's expression hardened. "You're going to balk at such a little thing? Do you look down on my Xuanming Hall? If you won't go, I'll get them myself. Afterward, I'll give you the lowest rating in this unified examination, and you can look forward to another thirty years of menial work!"

The young Daoist was horrified and hurried off without another word.

While they waited, Sun Yu gave Zhang Sheng the Literary Assessment questions. Zhang Sheng skimmed them once, and his expression eased. "The questions were strange, but not difficult. With Yuan'er's ability, even if he didn't get a perfect score, he should have scored at least twenty-nine. Twenty-eight would be impossible."

A short while later, the Daoist servant returned and placed a sheet of jade paper in front of Sun Yu. "These are the Dao Assessment and Literary Assessment scores. I secretly copied them down. Senior Brother Sun, please don't tell anyone, or I'll be expelled from the palace."

Sun Yu waved the young Daoist out, then handed the jade paper to Zhang Sheng. Zhang Sheng took it and frowned at once. Realizing something was wrong, Sun Yu leaned in to look as well.

The first name on the score sheet was Li Zhi, with thirty-eight points in the Dao Assessment and thirty in the Literary Assessment, for a total of sixty-eight. The second name was Bao Yun, with forty in the Dao Assessment and twenty-seven in the Literary Assessment, for a total of sixty-seven.

Zhang Sheng read the names one by one. He reached the end of the first page without seeing Wei Yuan's name. Sun Yu was just as astonished. The first page listed thirty candidates, and Wei Yuan hadn't even made the top thirty. He had no chance of entering Taichu Palace.

Zhang Sheng's face turned ashen. He kept flipping through the list, turning three pages before finally finding Wei Yuan's name. Wei Yuan had scored a total of forty-nine points in the Dao Assessment and Literary Assessment, ranking ninety-fifth among all the candidates.

Sun Yu frowned. That score wasn't just far from getting into an Immortal Sect; it was nowhere near a Grotto-Heaven either. At this point, there was little point in taking the Martial Assessment at all.

Zhang Sheng, on the other hand, had calmed down. He studied the breakdown of Wei Yuan's scores, then closed his eyes and thought.

After a while, Zhang Sheng opened his eyes and said calmly, "Even if I'd taught him for only six months, he would've scored more than nineteen on the Literary Assessment. And his foundation and fortune were only Earth Grade A. Heh. Earth Grade A... good, very good! Senior Brother might not know this, but Yuan'er's foundation and fortune are only a hair below mine."

Zhang Sheng slowly placed the score sheet on the table, his voice icy. "If I, Zhang Sheng, took the Dao Assessment and only got Earth Grade A, would anyone dare give me the Heavenly grade?"

Sun Yu didn't know what to say. He could only sigh. "Junior Brother, calm down. This, this matter..."

"Since they've resorted to such despicable methods, I don't need to save them face anymore!"

Zhang Sheng rose and headed for the hall entrance. Sun Yu couldn't stop him, no matter what he tried, and could only call after him, "Junior Brother, what are you going to do?"

Zhang Sheng's voice drifted back from the darkness:

"Flip the table!"