After three full days of intensive registration and preliminary screening, the eligible disciples, like warriors about to march onto the battlefield, raced against time to make their final preparations for the upcoming written examination.
The Scripture Pavilion was steeped in tension. The disciples buried themselves amid mountains of books, thirstily absorbing the nourishment of knowledge. Their gazes were focused; at times their brows knitted tightly, and at times they relaxed slightly after reaching an insight. Their pens never stopped recording the key points;
In the cultivation chambers, quite a few disciples chose to close their eyes and center their minds, immersing themselves in their own worlds. Using their hearts as guides, they sorted through the tangled threads of knowledge in their minds, linking what they had learned together like strands of silk, striving to build a complete and clear body of knowledge without overlooking even the smallest flaw;
Other disciples gathered in twos and threes in corners of the sect or within quiet pavilions. They discussed matters with fervor, sparks of thought colliding in the air.
From alchemical formulas to the exquisite arrangements of formations, from explanations of the essence of sword arts to analyses of practical combat strategies, every possible test point was repeatedly examined and deeply explored in their discussions.
Amid their verbal exchanges, they constantly refined their stores of knowledge, together sharpening their "blades" for the challenge to come.
At last, the day of the written examination arrived as scheduled.
At the first hint of dawn, the disciples had already arrived early at the examination hall. Like warriors about to throw themselves into battle, their expressions interwove nervousness and solemnity as they quietly and swiftly took their assigned places.
The examination hall was so quiet that it seemed even time had frozen; one could hear a pin drop. Only the occasional soft rustle of someone turning a test paper sounded especially clear amid the silence.
The inner sect disciples responsible for proctoring wore stern expressions. With steady steps, they patrolled back and forth through the hall, their gazes as sharp as hunting hawks as they watched every movement of every examinee, overlooking not the slightest abnormality.
The personal disciples, meanwhile, were stationed at the various examination sites, standing proudly atop the high platforms with solemn expressions and blazing eyes. They spread their spiritual senses without reservation, like a dense and enormous spiderweb extending from the platforms through every inch of space among the crowd below, missing no possible anomaly.
Just as everyone was wholly absorbed in answering their questions, a figure quietly entered Lin Mumu's sight from atop the platform.
It was a broad-shouldered, thick-waisted disciple. His brows were tightly furrowed and his face was full of anxiety as he kept biting the end of his brush pen. His teeth against it made faint clicking sounds that seemed exceptionally clear in the silent examination hall.
His gaze shifted back and forth between his test paper and the surrounding disciples. Within it lingered traces of panic and urgency, as though he were desperately searching for an opening to exploit.
Lin Mumu's vigilance abruptly rose. Without betraying anything, she quietly heightened her attention and began closely observing the disciple's every move.
Sure enough, not long afterward, accompanied by an extremely faint ripple of spiritual power, the disciple suddenly raised his hand during the brief instant when one proctor turned away. Muttering an incantation, he swiftly cast a spell in an attempt to peek at someone else's answers.
The spell was like an invisible thread, silently winding its way toward the test paper of the disciple beside him.
Before Lin Mumu could act, almost at that exact instant, the proctor who had just turned his back flashed coldly in the eyes and spun around. In a single stride, he arrived firmly at the disciple's side, seized his wrist, and unleashed a surge of powerful spiritual power that forcibly interrupted the cheating spell.
Then the proctor spoke coldly. "Cheating on an examination. Your qualifications are revoked!" His voice was not loud, yet it was like a heavy hammer, echoing for a long while through the examination hall's nearly frozen silence.
The disciple's face instantly turned as pale as paper, his eyes filled with terror and regret. It was as though every bone and tendon in his body had been pulled out, and he collapsed weakly into his chair, unable to recover for a long time.
A moment later, beneath the proctor's stern gaze, he could only rise in disgrace. Like an empty shell that had lost its soul, he was mercilessly driven from the examination hall.
Naturally, these subtle disturbances did not escape the several personal disciples whose spiritual senses were spread outward. They kept constant watch over the examination hall; every rustle of wind and blade of grass was within their grasp.
The corners of Lin Mumu's lips unconsciously lifted, and a gratified smile slowly bloomed across her face. Looking gently at the capable junior brothers proctoring below, she said, "You junior brothers are quite sharp."
Chu Shihan had noticed the scene as well. He nodded slightly, a glimmer of approval flashing through his eyes as he said affirmatively, "Quick reactions, timely handling. Not bad."
Once the written examination ended, the results were announced half a day later. In an instant, the notice board was surrounded by disciples eagerly craning their necks. Upon seeing their results, the many disciples displayed every manner of reaction.
Some saw their names ranked near the top and cheered with joy, their faces overflowing with irrepressible delight. Others saw that they had failed to make the list, their expressions darkening with grief, their eyes full of loss and dejection as they silently turned and left.
As expected, after the previous two harsh rounds of screening, most disciples could only withdraw with regret. Those who remained faced an even crueler and more anticipated one-on-one arena competition.
Without question, the arena competition was the climax of the Outer Sect Grand Competition and the crucial stage determining who could truly knock open the gates to the inner sect. Its importance went without saying.
At last, beneath the gaze of countless onlookers, the arena competition officially began. The Profound Heaven Sect became extraordinarily lively. Carrying a tangled mix of nervousness and anticipation, outer sect disciples flooded like a tide toward the competition grounds—the Sword Trial Platform.
By then, the area around the Sword Trial Platform had already been packed so tightly that not even water could seep through, filled with dense crowds of disciples who had come to watch.
Every face shone with excitement. Some leaned close and spoke in low voices, eagerly discussing the favored contenders most likely to distinguish themselves in this competition, their words filled with expectation and yearning for the event;
Others stared intensely at the center of the plaza, blazing fire in their eyes as they impatiently awaited the fierce contest about to unfold.
With a crisp strike of a gong, like a sudden thunderclap tearing through the sky, the fervent atmosphere across the grounds was instantly ignited, and the competition officially opened its curtain.
Several dozen arenas were arranged in orderly fashion across the vast plaza, and the matches on every arena began at the same time with the sounding of gongs.
To ensure absolute fairness and impartiality, and also to promptly prevent junior brothers and sisters who did not know their own strength from causing needless injuries, every arena was overseen by an experienced inner sect disciple with exceptional cultivation, serving as its referee.
The battles on the platforms were incomparably fierce. Every competing disciple exhausted every means at their disposal, determined to display their strongest abilities without holding anything back.
Some disciples formed hand seals so rapidly that their hands became afterimages, chanting under their breaths. In an instant, streams of dazzling spell-light shot into the sky in magnificent splendor before roaring toward their opponents like surging floods.
Yet their opponents were no ordinary figures either. The magical artifacts in their hands suddenly blazed brilliantly. As they swung them, astonishing power poured forth, and wherever those artifacts passed, the air seemed to be torn open by sharp blades, producing sizzling sounds.
The two sides traded blows, their attacks crashing in like tides as neither yielded an inch. Every move contained vast, surging spiritual power, and when they collided, dazzling sparks burst forth, as though the entire arena would be set ablaze.
The spectators below had long since been whipped into a fevered fervor. Cheers and applause rolled on like raging waves, each swell higher than the last, unending.
They cheered for the extraordinary performances of the disciples on the platforms. Every exquisitely timed evasion and every incomparably fierce attack drew spontaneous clapping and praise.
Each match was more spectacular than the last. The disciples displayed their own secret skills one after another in endless succession, leaving the audience dazzled.
Some disciples had attained profound mastery of swordsmanship. When they swung their longswords, they were like Flood Dragons emerging from the sea. Their sword moves were fierce and swift, and amid flashing cold light, every strike carried the force to split the wind and pierce the clouds, as though it could sever every obstacle in the world;
Others excelled at fist techniques. Their fist winds roared with tiger-like might, their bodies nimble and agile, their fierce, unmatched fist force like the rumbling of the earth, as though it could shake mountains and rivers;
Still others skillfully employed the Dao of formations, quietly trapping their opponents within them. Formation patterns flickered and shifted, mysterious and unfathomable, impossible to read, fully displaying their solid foundations and extraordinary combat wisdom.
Through their outward-spread spiritual senses, the personal disciples watched every disciple's performance with complete concentration, not daring to slacken in the slightest. They remained vigilantly aware of their surroundings at all times, attempting to drag the demonic cultivator lurking among the masses out from the shadows.
Shen Yuxi's brows furrowed slightly as he pondered in secret. With my current cultivation, sensing the demonic qi of a mere early-stage NPC demonic cultivator should be as easy as taking something from my pocket. Though this kind of demonic qi is hidden, it cannot possibly leave no trace.
Yet as time passed second by second and the competition continued in full swing, he still failed to catch even the slightest trace of demonic qi. He could not help sinking into deep self-doubt, confusion flooding his heart like a tide.
What exactly is going on? Could it be that only someone like Long Aotian, blessed with a protagonist's halo, can successfully expose that demonic cultivator, while everyone else is completely powerless?
Or is the gap between my cultivation and Eldest Senior Brother's truly so vast that I cannot even sense demonic qi?
The days quietly slipped by amid this atmosphere woven from tension and anticipation.
The arena competition came to a successful close, the team competition results were settled, new inner sect disciples were selected, and even the awards ceremony concluded smoothly. At last, the Outer Sect Grand Competition came to an end beneath everyone's watchful eyes.
Throughout this period, Shen Yuxi remained on high alert, always ready to face any crisis that might arise at any time. Yet until the competition ended, despite waiting left and right in full vigilance, he never discovered the slightest sign of a demonic cultivator stirring up trouble.
A powerful wave of doubt rose within Shen Yuxi. Where exactly did the demonic cultivator go? According to the original plot, he should already have made his move by now. Did he change his plans at the last minute? Or is he hiding too deeply for me to detect him at all?
Several senior and junior brothers had learned the answer to this question long ago, yet they had no way to tell Shen Yuxi directly.
A few days earlier, they had also been utterly at a loss, staring at one another with blank faces, their eyes full of deep confusion.
"Where is the demonic cultivator? Did he just give up on the plan like that?" Everyone looked at one another, trying to find an answer in each other's eyes, but all they saw was the same confusion and incomprehension.
Just as everyone was full of suspicion, Zhou Wan and Ye Jingxuan exchanged a look. A trace of tacit understanding flashed through their eyes, and smug smiles appeared on both their faces.
Then they leaned slightly closer to their fellow disciples, deliberately lowering their voices as they whispered, "The demonic cultivator failed the written examination. In his fury, he leaked demonic qi, and we already dealt with him."
It turned out that during the examination, although the demonic cultivator had disguised himself as an ordinary outer sect disciple to take the written test, his knowledge of the cultivation world was ultimately too lacking. His performance was abysmal, and he had no chance whatsoever of passing the screening.
When he realized he was about to be eliminated, painful memories from the entrance trial surged into his mind. In a fit of rage, he carelessly leaked a faint wisp of demonic qi.
In the quiet examination hall, that wisp of demonic qi was like a tiny light suddenly flashing in the darkness, instantly caught by the two of them with their keen senses.
The moment they noticed the subtle anomaly, they immediately understood one another. Without the slightest hesitation, they joined forces on the spot and cast their spells. With the speed of thunder before one could cover one's ears, they subdued the demonic cultivator in a single stroke and successfully resolved the hidden crisis.
Upon hearing this, Junior Sister's eyes instantly widened, her mouth parting slightly as her face filled with amazement, as though she had personally witnessed something unimaginably miraculous.
She could not help blurting out, "A written exam... terrifying indeed."
Who could have expected that an ordinary written examination would become the key turning point in exposing the demonic cultivator's identity—and even successfully force him to reveal his true form?
"We also found the innocent disciple's body and gave it a proper burial," Ye Jingxuan added.
Of course, no one revealed even the slightest bit of this matter to Shen Yuxi. After all, they truly did not know how to explain to him how they had learned about the demonic cultivator in advance. The reasons behind it were far too complicated to put into words.
For that very reason, in the end, Shen Yuxi alone remained full of doubt. He always felt there was something unspeakably strange about the matter. How could the demonic cultivator vanish so cleanly and easily, as though he had never appeared in this competition at all?
He thought it over again and again but could never make sense of it. Still, with no demonic cultivator causing trouble, it was ultimately a good thing for the sect and for this Outer Sect Grand Competition.
Though doubt still lingered in Shen Yuxi's heart, since matters had reached this point, he accepted the outcome.
He secretly mused that perhaps this was the so-called butterfly effect: tiny changes triggering completely different results.
Since the outcome was good, why cling to the mysteries along the way?
However, the matter did not end there.
Even though the Outer Sect Grand Competition had concluded perfectly, Zhou Wan, rigorous and overly serious by nature, had no intention of sparing even the personal disciples. She gathered them together and organized an examination. The test was quietly held in secret, and Zhou Wan herself served as the proctor.
The corners of her lips lifted slightly, her crescent-moon eyes curved with a smile as gentle as spring sunlight. Yet beneath that gentle appearance, an invisible authority quietly spilled from behind her like an undercurrent hidden in the deep sea, making others unable to help but submit to her bearing.
When Shen Yuxi learned that he too had to take this internal examination for personal disciples, he was rendered speechless.
"...I wanted to experience the joy of watching other people take the college entrance exam, not take the college entrance exam all over again!!!"
Before this, he had been full of anticipation, hoping that just like in his previous life, he could leisurely watch the college entrance examinations from the sidelines. He had imagined comfortably watching outer sect disciples focus completely in the examination hall, their pens flying across their papers. As an uninvolved spectator, he could even take pleasure in their misfortune to his heart's content and enjoy that unique amusement.
Yet reality was vastly different from his beautiful expectations, and his plans had completely fallen through. Because of the demonic cultivator, his nerves had remained taut, and he had not dared relax in the slightest. In such a highly tense state, the Outer Sect Grand Competition had somehow ended in a muddle. And now he still had to make up another exam—who could accept that?!
Fortunately, in this life, relying on his extraordinary talent and diligence far beyond ordinary people, Shen Yuxi had become the undisputed king of cramming in everyone's eyes. Though he felt somewhat helpless about the written examination, he was not afraid of it in the least.
During the examination, his brush moved as though aided by the gods. Every point of knowledge flashed rapidly through his mind, and his pen ran freely across the test paper. Naturally, he ultimately passed with high marks.
As fellow kings of cramming, Chu Shihan, Feng Yue, and Ye Jingxuan naturally achieved outstanding results with their solid reserves of knowledge. Fifth Junior Brother and Tenth Junior Sister were not in the sect, so they escaped this examination.
Though Lin Mumu's mind was usually full of romantic tales of moonlit winds and flower-filled nights, making her a complete love-struck fool, she had not been overly lax in her studies. Her grades were fairly good, with no obvious gap between her and Eighth Junior Sister Chu Xuan or Ninth Junior Brother Wen Jian.
As everyone had expected beforehand, however, Junior Sister was a genuine poor student.
During the examination, she scratched at her ears and cheeks as she stared at the test paper, completely lost. Her eyes were full of confusion over the questions, and she was clearly being tormented badly by one difficult problem after another.
Song Zhiyi, on the other hand, brought everyone quite a surprise. In the examination, even in such an obscure and unpopular subject as Nine Domains geography, he achieved remarkably excellent results. Looking at that subject alone, he even outscored several of the senior brothers known as "kings of cramming."
Faced with everyone's astonished and admiring gazes, Song Zhiyi scratched his head somewhat shyly and explained with a little embarrassment, "I'm rather interested in that area, so I usually read more related books in the Scripture Repository."
Upon hearing this, Junior Sister widened her eyes, her face full of disbelief as she blurted out, "Traitor!! Eleventh Senior Brother, you big traitor!"
Song Zhiyi was startled by Junior Sister's sudden, intense reaction, and his body trembled involuntarily. A flicker of panic instantly appeared on his face, and for a moment, he stood frozen in place, at a complete loss.
His lips trembled slightly as he stammered a few times, seemingly wanting to explain something. Yet when the words reached his mouth, he ultimately did not dare say more. He could only stand there awkwardly, his eyes full of innocence and helplessness.
"You are a personal disciple, and everyone's senior sister," Zhou Wan said, lightly knitting her delicate brows and putting on an expression of distress. Her slender hand gently stroked her cheek, her face filled with worry.
"If the disciples entering the inner sect later discover that their senior sister's foundations are actually not as solid as theirs, then once word gets out, where will the dignity of us personal disciples be placed?"
Her tone was soft and gentle, yet it seemed threaded with wisps of sorrow, as though she were truly troubled by this event that had not yet occurred.
Following the scene Fourth Senior Sister described, Junior Sister tried to imagine it in her mind: herself as a senior sister, yet appearing utterly miserable before newly admitted disciples because her foundational knowledge was weak, surrounded by strange gazes that pricked her back like needles.
At the mere thought of it, Junior Sister immediately felt uncomfortable all over.
Under the surging impact of this powerful resistance, Junior Sister bit her lower lip tightly, her pearly teeth nearly sinking into her tender skin. After a fierce struggle within her heart, helplessness ultimately gained the upper hand, and she could only choose to compromise.
Her head drooped powerlessly, her face full of reluctance as she gently tugged Zhou Wan's sleeve. Her movement was somewhat pitiful, and her voice was filled with helplessness and grievance. "Senior Sister, help me study."
For someone with such strong pride, she truly did not want to face such an embarrassing situation.
"Alright, but I'm very strict, so be prepared," Zhou Wan said with a smile.
"Mm! I can do it!" Junior Sister secretly glanced at Shen Yuxi, who was still agonizing over his incorrect answers, and clenched her fist as though to cheer herself on.
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