The sky at the mao hour (5-7 am) was not yet fully bright.

The morning in the capital carried a biting, damp chill.

In front of the Examination Hall, a crowd had already gathered long ago.

But unlike the usual clamor, today this place was silent as a graveyard.

Hundreds of armored soldiers clad in cold iron armor, holding long halberds, stood in two rows, forming a stern, killing-intent-filled passage leading to the “Dragon Gate.” The expressions on their faces were even colder and harder than the iron armor they wore.

The scholars lined up in a long queue, each with a pale face and a nervous expression.

“Undo your hair buns!”

“Outer robe, inner garment, take them all off!”

“Open your mouth, stick out your tongue!”

The voices of the soldiers conducting the search were hoarse, their movements rough and merciless. Like inspecting livestock, they felt up each scholar from head to toe, even pinching apart hair buns to confirm no slips of paper were hidden inside.

A scholar from a poor family, wearing a patched inner garment close to his skin, was roughly pulled out by a searching soldier.

“What’s hidden in these patches? Rip it open!”

“Sir, this was sewn by this humble student’s mother, there’s really nothing inside…”

*Rip!* With a harsh sound, the patch was violently torn open, revealing the grayish-white cotton wadding inside.

Finding nothing, the soldier relentlessly slapped the scholar.

“Pathetic wretch! Get inside!”

The scholar covered his face, eyes reddening, but dared not utter a word. Clutching his torn clothes, he scrambled awkwardly into the Examination Hall.

The atmosphere in the line grew increasingly oppressive.

Su Ming stood in the middle of the queue, his expression calm, only slowing his breathing further.

He saw ahead, a luxurious carriage drove directly to the entrance, completely ignoring the long line.

Several attendants escorted a young man dressed in a moon-white brocade robe out of the carriage.

It was that young master from the Wei Duke’s house.

He didn’t even walk; two sturdy servants practically half-carried him to the search checkpoint, one on each side.

The soldier in charge of the search immediately put on a fawning smile, merely symbolically brushing his sleeve, then bowed to let him pass.

“Young Master, please!”

From start to finish, the young master Wei didn’t even lift his eyelids.

Their gazes met briefly in the air.

The other’s eyes still held that aloof indifference, as if looking at an ant by the roadside.

Su Ming withdrew his gaze, his heart as still as water.

Lin Yu whistled in his mind. Wow, what a spectacle, what privilege. The dregs of feudal society were truly on full display.

“Disciple, see that? That’s the kind of creature we need to keep a low profile and avoid in the future.”

When it was Su Ming’s turn, the searching soldier, seeing his plain clothing, showed a trace of impatience.

“Hurry up! What are you dawdling for!”

Su Ming said nothing, cooperatively taking off his outer robe and undoing his hair bun.

The soldier’s hands patted him roughly. When they touched the cold, old bronze token in his embrace, the movement paused.

“What’s this?”

“A family heirloom bronze token, used for calming the mind,” Su Ming replied flatly.

The soldier took the token and examined it. The blurred cloud patterns on it were already worn, looking worthless.

He snorted with contempt and tossed it back to Su Ming.

“Playing mystical tricks.”

After the search, Su Ming walked through that vermilion “Dragon Gate.” The clamor and cold wind behind him seemed to be shut out.

The passageway was deep and dark, flanked by densely packed examination cells resembling honeycombs.

The air was thick with a stale, moldy smell, mixed with the odors of ink and urine.

Su Ming found his examination cell.

“Xuan Character, Number Seventy-Three.”

The space was stiflingly narrow, only ten feet long and three feet wide. Two wooden boards served as desk and chair during the day, and when put together at night, became a bed.

Closing the door, the entire world shrank to this tiny space.

Su Ming did not immediately take out his writing implements.

The external oppression, tension, the muffled coughs from neighboring cells, the monotonous footsteps of patrolling armored soldiers… all of it gradually faded away.

His heartbeat became slow and powerful, his entire being entering a state of absolute calm.

It was as if he hadn’t come to take the fate-deciding imperial examination, but had merely changed locations for his daily cultivation practice.

“Good, that mindset, steady as a rock,” Lin Yu commented approvingly.

An unknown amount of time later, the bell signaling the start of the examination rang.

Dull, prolonged.

The exam papers were passed in through a small opening under the cell door.

Su Ming unrolled the paper.

The first session tested knowledge of classics and their meanings, examining memorization of canonical texts.

For Su Ming, whose soul far exceeded that of ordinary people, this was as easy as turning his hand.

He lifted his brush, set it to paper, his handwriting the meticulously practiced official script.

Neat, rigid, utterly lacking in sharpness, but also guaranteed not to lose points due to calligraphy issues.

The second day, the policy discussion.

The topic was handed down. Su Ming’s gaze swept over it, and his heart stirred slightly.

“Discussing the Northern Border Troubles: Should we suppress or pacify? Also discuss the advantages and disadvantages of methods like military farming and the ‘Kai Zhong’ system, to secure the people’s livelihood.”

Border troubles and people’s livelihood.

What a grand topic.

Almost the instant he saw the topic, several world-shaking, unconventional approaches to tackling the theme flashed through Su Ming’s mind.

He could combine “suppression” and “pacification,” waging a national war that sustained itself through combat.

He could also take an alternative route, starting from economics, discussing how the Kai Zhong system was controlled by the powerful, ultimately leading to inadequate provisions for border troops, layers of exploitation, and soldiers lacking the will to fight.

Any of these ideas, if written out, would be enough to shock the entire examination hall, making the graders slap the table in admiration.

But that would also instantly make him the focus of all attention.

Make him a thorn in the side of the Yongchang Marquis Manor, a pawn the upright officials faction would want to recruit, a target of jealousy and scheming by countless others.

That was not what he wanted.

Su Ming slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air, pressing down, one by one, all those ideas dazzling enough to astonish the world.

Harmonize with the light, blend with the dust. Unfurl and furl with the times.

His teacher’s instruction still echoed in his ears.

Our goal is to be unwanted.

Lin Yu’s voice sounded timely.

Su Ming’s eyes regained the calm, still-as-an-ancient-well composure.

He re-examined the topic, choosing the safest, most “correct,” and also most mediocre line of argument.

Quoting classics and citing authorities, all were words of the sages, not stepping out of any established pattern.

First, he bitterly described the severity of the border troubles, quoting words from the “Book of Documents” to discuss the ruler’s duty to defend the land, establishing the righteous principle of “suppression.”

Then shifting to pacification, quoting Mencius to discuss how the people are more important than the ruler, stating that border people are also subjects of the Great Xing and should not be lightly abandoned, establishing the benevolent heart of “pacification.”

As for methods like military farming and the Kai Zhong system, he completely followed the mainstream discourse of the court in recent years, praising their merits, briefly stating their flaws, and proposing suggestions that were all bland, empty talk like “strengthen supervision” and “strictly punish corruption.”

He lifted his brush, dipped it in ink.

The brush tip flowed across the paper, with ornate rhetoric, quoting classics, perfectly parallel in structure.

The entire essay’s structure was as rigorous as a perfectly constructed pavilion, every beam and pillar in its proper place, not a single flaw to be found.

The literary talent was brilliant, enough to display his solid foundation.

But its core argument was balanced, steady, balanced and peaceful, like a cup of lukewarm plain water.

Excellent, but absolutely not dazzling.

Safe, absolutely safe.

…

Nine days were a long, drawn-out ordeal.

The examination cells were narrow, with extreme temperature differences between day and night. During the day, it was as stuffy as a steamer; at night, cold seeped in from all sides.

The food was uniformly distributed hard, dry flatbreads, and drinking water was also rationed.

By the third day, muffled sobbing came from the neighboring cell, followed by violent banging on the door.

“I’m going mad! I want out! I don’t want to take this exam anymore!”

Soon, two armored soldiers expressionlessly opened the door and dragged out the mentally collapsed candidate like dragging a dead dog.

The oppressive atmosphere grew even heavier.

Relying on spiritual perception far surpassing ordinary people, Su Ming could “hear” some unusual movements.

In the rows of cells deep within the Examination Hall, the footsteps of officials were much more frequent than elsewhere.

They occasionally paused before a certain cell for a moment, seemingly conversing in low voices, with even the faintest sound of paper rubbing.

Su Ming knew that was certain children of the powerful enjoying “special treatment.”

But he turned a blind eye, turned a deaf ear, focusing only on his own answers.

Lin Yu snorted contemptuously at this.

“Standard procedure, standard procedure. Where there are people, there is the jianghu (underworld/martial world); where there are exams, there is cheating. Normal, normal.”

On the fifth night, Su Ming was resting with his eyes closed.

Lin Yu’s voice suddenly sounded in his mind, carrying a trace of alertness.

“Disciple, don’t move, something is sweeping over.”

Su Ming maintained his cross-legged sitting posture, motionless.

He felt an extremely faint but exceptionally pure spiritual energy fluctuation sweep past, like a searchlight, from the deepest part of the Examination Hall.

That power was suppressed extremely harshly by the Dragon Qi, yet still carried an indisputable authority.

It paused for a moment over each examination cell, seemingly probing something.

When that fluctuation swept over Su Ming’s cell, Lin Yu immediately withdrew his soul body fluctuations to the extreme, as if turning into a genuine speck of dust.

Su Ming also fully operated the Aura Concealment Art, his entire presence vanishing, like a stone.

The spiritual energy fluctuation seemed to linger on Su Ming for half a breath longer than elsewhere.

Then, it swept towards the next cell without any abnormality.

“Whew…” Lin Yu breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow, it really is a cultivator. Judging by the purity of that spiritual energy, probably at the Foundation Establishment stage. Sent here to invigilate… looks like the Great Xing Dynasty really does have ties with the cultivation world. Coming to the capital was indeed the right move.”

“Did he discover us?” Su Ming asked in his mind.

“Probably not. He was likely just conducting a routine scan. Plus, with the Dragon Qi all over the city as cover, he couldn’t detect us.”

This minor episode made Su Ming even more cautious.

The final session ended, and the bell signaling the submission of papers rang.

Su Ming was in no hurry to hand in his papers.

He carefully reviewed all his answer sheets from beginning to end.

Every character, every sentence, ensured there was no possible “sharp edge” that could invite speculation.

After confirming there were no issues, he calmly organized his answer sheets and waited for the official to collect them.

The nine-day ordeal was over.

The gates of the Examination Hall opened once more, and the scholars poured out like a tide.

Many were sallow and emaciated, their steps unsteady, as if drained of their vital spirit.

Some laughed heartily at the sky, others hugged their heads and wept.

Su Ming blended into the flow of people, utterly inconspicuous.

He walked out of that enormous “Dragon Gate.” The afternoon sun made his eyes squint slightly.

He turned back, glancing at that stern, beast-like structure.

In his heart, there was neither sorrow nor joy.

Only a calm sense of “mission accomplished.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep