Outer Sect Grand Competition (4)

After three full days of intense registration and preliminary screening, the qualified 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, greedily absorbing the nourishment of knowledge. Their gazes were focused; at times their brows furrowed tightly, and at others, they relaxed slightly upon reaching an understanding. Their pens never stopped recording key points.

In the cultivation chambers, quite a few disciples chose to close their eyes and concentrate, immersing themselves in their own worlds. Using their hearts as guides, they sorted through the tangled threads of knowledge in their minds, linking everything they had learned together like strands of silk, striving to build a complete and clear system of knowledge without overlooking even the smallest flaw.

Still others gathered in twos and threes in corners of the sect or within quiet pavilions. They exchanged and debated fervently, sparks of thought colliding in the air.

From alchemical formulas to the ingenious arrangements of formations, from explanations of sword arts to analyses of practical combat strategies, every point that might appear on the examination was repeatedly scrutinized and deeply explored in their discussions.

Amid their verbal exchanges, they continuously strengthened their own reserves of knowledge, together sharpening their "blades" for the coming challenge.

At last, the day of the written examination arrived as scheduled.

At the first glimmer of dawn, the disciples had already arrived at the examination hall. Like warriors about to charge into battle, their expressions mixed tension with solemnity as they quietly and swiftly took their assigned seats.

The examination hall was so quiet that time itself seemed frozen; one could have heard a needle drop. Only the occasional soft rustle of papers being turned sounded especially clear in that silence.

The inner sect disciples responsible for invigilation wore stern expressions as they paced steadily through the hall. Their eyes were as keen as hunting hawks, watching every movement of every examinee and refusing to miss the slightest anomaly.

The personal disciples were stationed across the various examination sites, standing proudly atop raised platforms with solemn faces and blazing eyes. Without holding anything back, they spread their spiritual senses fully outward like a dense, enormous spiderweb, extending from the platforms through every inch of space among the crowd below, leaving no possible irregularity unchecked.

Just as everyone was wholly absorbed in answering their questions, a figure quietly entered Lin Mumu's sight from atop the platform.

He was a broad-shouldered, thick-waisted disciple. His brow was tightly furrowed, anxiety written all over his face as he kept biting the end of his pen. His teeth clicked faintly against it, the sound especially distinct within the silent examination hall.

His gaze shifted back and forth between his test paper and the surrounding examinees, carrying traces of panic and urgency, as though he were desperately searching for an opening to exploit.

Lin Mumu's vigilance rose sharply. Without showing it, she secretly heightened her focus and began watching the disciple's every move closely.

Sure enough, not long afterward, accompanied by an exceedingly faint ripple of spiritual power, the disciple seized the brief moment when an invigilator turned away. He abruptly raised his hand, muttering under his breath as 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 examinee beside him.

Before Lin Mumu could act, almost at that very instant, the invigilating disciple who had only just turned his back flashed a cold gleam in his eyes and spun around. In a single stride, he reached the cheater's side, seized his wrist firmly, and unleashed powerful spiritual energy that forcibly interrupted the cheating spell.

Then the invigilator said coldly, "Cheating on the examination. Disqualified!" His voice was not loud, yet it was like a heavy hammer, echoing for a long while through the examination hall, which had been quiet enough to nearly solidify.

The disciple's face instantly turned pale as paper, his eyes filled with terror and regret. It was as if every bone and tendon had been pulled from his body; he slumped weakly in his chair and could not recover for a long time.

After a moment, under the invigilator's severe gaze, he could only rise shamefacedly. 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 who had extended their spiritual senses. They were constantly monitoring the examination hall, with every rustle of wind and stirring of grass fully 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 invigilating below, she said, "You junior brothers are quite sharp."

Chu Shihan had noticed the scene as well. He nodded slightly, approval flashing through his eyes as he said affirmatively, "Quick response, timely handling. Not bad."

When the written examination ended, the results were announced half a day later. In an instant, the ranking board was surrounded by disciples craning their necks in anticipation. The moment they saw their results, all manner of reactions appeared.

Some disciples saw their names ranked near the top and cheered with joy, their faces overflowing with irrepressible delight. Others found themselves unranked, their expressions dim and sorrowful, their eyes filled with loss and dejection as they silently turned away.

As expected, after the first two rounds of harsh selection, most disciples could only leave the competition with regrets. Those who remained faced an even crueler and more eagerly watched one-on-one arena tournament.

Without question, the arena tournament was the climax of the Outer Sect Grand Competition and the crucial stage that determined who could truly knock upon the gates of the inner sect. Its importance went without saying.

At last, beneath the gaze of countless spectators, the arena tournament officially began. The Profound Heaven Sect was filled with extraordinary bustle. Carrying complicated emotions tangled with tension and expectation, the outer sect disciples surged like a tide toward the competition grounds—the Sword Trial Platform—early in the day.

By then, the area around the Sword Trial Platform had already been packed so tightly that not even water could pass through, filled with dense crowds of disciples who had come to watch.

Excitement shone on every face. Some leaned together and talked animatedly, eagerly discussing the favored contenders most likely to rise to prominence in this competition, their words brimming with anticipation and longing for the event.

Others stared intently at the center of the square, blazing fire burning in their eyes as they impatiently awaited the fierce contest about to unfold.

With a crisp strike of a gong, like sudden thunder tearing through the sky, the atmosphere of the entire venue was ignited at once, and the competition officially began.

Dozens of arenas were arranged in orderly fashion across the vast square, with matches beginning simultaneously on every platform.

To ensure absolute fairness and impartiality, and 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 of formidable cultivation serving as referee.

The battles on the platforms were exceptionally fierce. Every competing disciple exhausted every method at their disposal, determined to display their greatest strength without reservation.

One disciple formed hand seals at blinding speed, his hands like phantoms as he muttered an incantation. In an instant, streams of dazzling spell-light shot into the sky before roaring toward his opponent like a surging flood.

His opponent was no ordinary person either. The magic treasure in his hand suddenly blazed with light, releasing astonishing power as he swung it. Wherever the treasure passed, the air seemed to be ripped apart by a sharp blade, producing hissing sounds.

The two traded blows, their attacks rolling like tides as neither yielded. Every strike and technique contained vast, majestic spiritual power, and when they collided, brilliant sparks erupted as if the entire arena might be set ablaze.

The spectators below had long since been fired up, their cheers and applause crashing like turbulent ocean waves, each swell higher than the last without end.

They cheered wildly for the spectacular performances of the disciples onstage. Every exquisitely timed dodge and every incomparably fierce attack drew involuntary applause and shouts of praise.

Each match was more magnificent than the last. The disciples displayed their unique signature techniques one after another, so numerous that the eye could scarcely take them all in.

Some disciples had attained profound mastery of swordsmanship. When they wielded their longswords, they resembled flood dragons emerging from the sea; their sword moves were swift and fierce, and amid flashing cold light, every sword stroke carried the force to tear through wind and pierce clouds, as if 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, while their incomparably forceful punches rumbled like the earth itself, as though they could shake mountains and rivers.

Still others skillfully employed the principles of formations, quietly trapping their opponents within. Formation patterns flickered and shifted, mysterious and unfathomable, impossible to read, fully displaying their solid foundation and extraordinary combat wisdom.

The personal disciples observed every disciple's performance with complete focus through their extended spiritual senses. They did not dare slack off in the slightest, remaining alert to their surroundings as they tried to drag out the Demonic Cultivator hidden among the vast crowd.

Shen Yuxi's brow creased slightly as he thought to himself, With my current cultivation, sensing the demonic aura of a mere early-stage NPC Demonic Cultivator should be as easy as taking something from a bag. His demonic aura may be concealed, but it cannot possibly leave no trace at all.

Yet second by second, the competition continued in full swing, and he still failed to catch even the slightest trace of demonic aura. This involuntarily plunged him into deep self-doubt, confusion flooding his heart like a rising tide.

What exactly is going on? Could it be that only someone with a protagonist's halo, like Long Aotian, can successfully drag out that Demonic Cultivator, while everyone else is completely powerless?

Or is the gap between my cultivation and Eldest Senior Brother's truly so enormous that I cannot even sense demonic aura?

Days quietly slipped by amid this atmosphere of tension and anticipation.

The arena tournament came to a successful close, the team competition results were settled, new inner sect disciples were selected, and even the award ceremony concluded smoothly. At last, under everyone's watchful eyes, the Outer Sect Grand Competition came to an end.

Throughout this period, Shen Yuxi remained highly vigilant, always prepared for a crisis that might emerge at any moment. Yet even after the competition ended, though he waited anxiously from left to right, he never found the slightest sign of a Demonic Cultivator causing trouble.

A powerful wave of doubt rose in Shen Yuxi's heart. Where did the Demonic Cultivator go? According to the original plot, he should 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 with my abilities?

Several senior and junior brothers already knew the answer to this question, but they had no way to tell Shen Yuxi directly.

A few days earlier, they too had been utterly bewildered, staring at one another with dense confusion in their eyes.

"Where is the Demonic Cultivator? Did he just give up on his plan?" They 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 filled with suspicion, Zhou Wan and Ye Jingxuan exchanged a glance. A trace of mutual 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 aura, so we already dealt with him."

It turned out that during the examination, the Demonic Cultivator had disguised himself as an ordinary outer sect disciple and taken the written test. Yet because his knowledge of the cultivation world was ultimately lacking, his performance had been abysmal, and he had no chance of passing the screening.

When he realized he was about to be eliminated, painful memories from the sect-entry trial surged into his mind. In a fit of rage, he accidentally leaked a faint, almost imperceptible strand of demonic aura.

Within the silent examination hall, that wisp of demonic aura was like a point of light suddenly flashing in darkness, instantly caught by the two of them with their sharp senses.

The moment they noticed that subtle abnormality, they understood one another without a word. Right there on the spot, they joined hands to cast spells without hesitation and, with the speed of thunder that left no time to cover one's ears, subdued the Demonic Cultivator in a single stroke, successfully resolving the hidden crisis.

Upon hearing this, Little Junior Sister's eyes widened at once, and her mouth fell slightly open. Her face was filled with amazement, as if she had personally witnessed something unimaginably miraculous.

She could not help blurting out, "A written examination... terrifying to such an extent."

Who could have imagined that an ordinary written examination would become the crucial turning point in exposing a Demonic Cultivator's identity, even forcing him to reveal his true form?

"The body of that innocent disciple has also been found and laid to rest," Ye Jingxuan added.

Of course, no one revealed a single word of this matter to Shen Yuxi. After all, they truly did not know how to explain to him how they had learned of 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 that something about the matter was inexplicably strange. How could the Demonic Cultivator have vanished so cleanly and easily, as if he had never appeared in this competition at all?

He thought it over and over, yet could never make sense of it. Still, the absence of a Demonic Cultivator stirring up trouble was ultimately a good thing for the sect and for this Outer Sect Grand Competition.

Though Shen Yuxi still harbored doubts, with things having come this far, he accepted the result.

He thought to himself that perhaps this was the so-called butterfly effect: tiny changes triggering entirely different outcomes.

Since the result 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, with her rigorous and overly serious personality, did not intend to let even the personal disciples off. She gathered them together and organized an examination. The examination was quietly conducted in secret, with Zhou Wan herself serving as invigilator.

The corners of her lips rose gently, and her crescent-shaped eyes curved with a smile as soft as spring sunlight. Yet beneath that gentle appearance, an invisible majesty quietly spilled out from behind her like an undercurrent hidden in the deep sea, making others unable to resist yielding to her presence.

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 it again myself!!!

He had once looked forward to it with great anticipation, hoping that just like in his previous life, he could leisurely watch the college entrance examination from the sidelines. He imagined comfortably watching the outer sect disciples concentrate in the examination hall, their pens flying as they wrote furiously. As an uninvolved observer, he could even take delight in their misfortune and enjoy this peculiar pleasure to his heart's content.

However, reality was vastly different from his beautiful expectations, and his plans had now 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 muddled its way to an end. And now he still had to make up another examination—who could accept that?

Fortunately, in this life, thanks to his exceptional talent and diligence beyond that of ordinary people, Shen Yuxi had already become the undisputed study king in everyone's eyes. Though he felt somewhat helpless about the written examination, he was not afraid of it in the slightest.

During the examination, his pen moved as though aided by the gods. Every point of knowledge flashed through his mind at high speed, and his pen swept freely across the test paper. Naturally, he passed with a high score.

Chu Shihan, Feng Yue, and Ye Jingxuan, fellow study kings themselves, 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.

Although Lin Mumu usually had nothing but romantic tales of wind, flowers, snow, and moon in her mind, making her a complete love-struck fool, she had not been too lax in her studies. Her grades were fairly good, and the gap between her and Eighth Junior Sister Chu Xuan and Ninth Junior Brother Wen Jian was not obvious.

As everyone had expected beforehand, Little Junior Sister was a genuine poor student.

During the examination, she scratched at her ears and cheeks as she stared at the test paper, looking utterly lost. Her eyes were full of confusion at the questions, and she had clearly been tormented badly by one difficult problem after another.

Song Zhiyi, however, brought everyone quite a surprise. During the examination, he earned remarkably excellent results even in such an obscure and niche subject as Nine Domains geography. Judging from this subject alone, his score even surpassed those of several study-king senior brothers.

Facing everyone's astonished and admiring looks, Song Zhiyi scratched his head somewhat shyly and explained awkwardly, "I'm rather interested in this area, so I usually read more related texts in the Scripture Repository."

Upon hearing that, Little Junior Sister's eyes widened, her face full of disbelief as she blurted, "Traitor!! Eleventh Senior Brother, you big traitor!"

Song Zhiyi was startled by Little Junior Sister's sudden intense reaction, and his body involuntarily trembled. A trace of panic instantly appeared on his face, and for a moment he stood there blankly, at a loss for what to do.

His lips trembled slightly as he mumbled a few times, seemingly wanting to explain something. Yet when the words reached his mouth, he ultimately did not dare say anything more. He could only stand there awkwardly, his eyes filled with innocence and helplessness.

"You are a personal disciple, and everyone's senior sister," Zhou Wan said, her lovely brows knitting slightly as she put on a troubled expression. Her slender hand lightly stroked her cheek, her face full of worry.

"If the disciples entering the inner sect later discover that Senior Sister's foundation is actually not as solid as theirs, then once word spreads, where will the dignity of us personal disciples be placed?"

Her tone was soft and unhurried, yet tinged with threads of sorrow, as though she were genuinely distressed over this event that had not yet happened.

Following the scene Fourth Senior Sister had described, Little Junior Sister tried to imagine it in her mind: as a senior sister, she would appear utterly wretched before newly admitted disciples because of her weak foundational knowledge, while strange looks from all around stabbed into her back like needles.

At the mere thought of it, Little Junior Sister felt uncomfortable all over.

As that powerful resistance surged and crashed through her like a tide, Little Junior Sister bit down on her lower lip, her pearly teeth nearly sinking into the tender skin. After a fierce battle between heaven and man in her heart, helplessness ultimately gained the upper hand, and she could only choose to compromise.

Her head drooped weakly, her face filled with reluctance. She reached out and lightly tugged Zhou Wan's sleeve, her movements carrying a pitiful air as her voice brimmed with helplessness and grievance. "Senior Sister, help tutor me."

For someone with such strong self-respect, she truly did not want to face such an embarrassing situation.

"Of course, but I'm very strict, so be prepared," Zhou Wan said with a smile.

"Mm! I can do it!" Little Junior Sister secretly glanced at Shen Yuxi, who was still agonizing over his wrong answers, and clenched her fist as though pumping herself up.