Beneath the Sky Screen, voices of discontent surged like a rising tide.
"This isn't fair! Tang San is the answer himself. How can he be allowed to answer?"
"Exactly! I could accept it if nobody got the answer right, but Tang San was the one who did? I can't accept that!"
"Isn't this cheating? The Sky Screen practically spoon-fed him the answer!"
"It's so unfair! We don't even know what the Tang Sect is, while he had the answer on his own person!"
"Right! Nobody but Tang San could answer this question. Why bother asking it? Why not just hand him the reward?"
"I protest! This was rigged!"
Similar complaints rang out across the continent.
In taverns, teahouses, academies, and sects, discontent was everywhere.
Those who had answered incorrectly had thought they were simply unlucky. Now that they saw Tang San was the only one who had gotten it right, they erupted.
Tang San was the answer himself. What was impressive about him getting it right?
The Sky Screen fell silent for a moment.
Then an oppressive force descended from the heavens.
It came without warning and had no visible form. It simply fell from the sky onto everyone who was complaining.
It was not heavy, yet a chill seeped out from deep within their bones. It felt as though a pair of eyes watched them from an immense height, calm, indifferent, and utterly without emotion.
"The Sky Screen sets the rules of its questions and answers."
"Participants have only the right to answer. Questioning the Sky Screen earns a warning for the first offense. Offend again, and punishment will descend."
The Sky Screen's voice was as steady as ever, but this time, that steadiness carried an unquestionable chill.
Everyone who had been complaining fell silent at once. Taverns, teahouses,