Within the Sacred Academy.
"Ahem... Mr. Astonishing Dragon, could you bring this screen a little closer? We really can't see clearly," Zhang Poyue asked shamelessly.
The Great Scholars nodded, inwardly admiring the nerve of Zhang Poyue, that incorrigible rogue, for questioning a Half-Sage at a time like this. He truly belonged to that nation of death-seekers. Fang Yun had led them all astray.
"No." Wang Jinglong gave Zhang Poyue an expressionless glance.
Zhang Poyue smiled awkwardly.
The Half-Sages could see clearly, while the Great Scholars had no choice but to concentrate their literary qi in their eyes and watch intently.
Yet no matter how hard they tried, Fang Yun and Saint Zong appeared no larger than beans in their eyes, impossible to make out clearly.
They could not even hear the two sages' conversation, for they were out among the stars, communicating through sacred sense.
Some Great Scholars on friendly terms exchanged private messages, and their opinions diverged.
Some believed Fang Yun's sacred sense was so pure that victory was certain, while others believed that, though pure, his sacred sense lacked sufficient volume, and the ultimate victory would belong to Saint Zong.
Others discussed their Saint Bodies and Literary Worlds, finding it difficult to reach a conclusion. But more believed Zong Moju would win by a narrow margin, and that even if Fang Yun lost, his defeat would not be too devastating.
In the distant starry sky.
Zong Moju raised his head and said, "For this first battle, you may strike first."
Fang Yun smiled slightly and said, "As a junior challenging you, sir, I would not presume to make the first move."
"After all, I set the rules for this Literary Battle. In this contest of sacred sense, you may strike first," Zong Moju said.
"Very well. My sacred