The subsequent trials—shield-bearing and log-chopping—were a breeze for the martial candidates. With their cultivated realms, these tests were child's play.
As they waited for the final "Battle Flag Simulation" trial, the candidates lingered by the training field, watching new students undergo their assessments. Among them, two nearly identical twin brothers stood out. Not only did they hoist the copper cauldron effortlessly, but their shield-chopping and log-slicing skills far surpassed the others'. They were clearly the standouts of the new batch.
"They didn't even use internal energy—just raw physical strength to lift that cauldron. Absolute natural born strength!" an observant candidate gasped. Today's shocks had already eroded the usual arrogance of the group; this year's talent surge left them in awe.
Candidates who passed the trials lined up to collect their identity tokens from a corner of the field. But when the twin brothers reached the front, disaster struck.
The once-impressed instructor paled as he examined their arms and necks. "Do you have a Tiance Academy recommendation letter?"
The brothers blinked, confused. "Recommendation letter? What's that?"
"Pity," the instructor sighed. "With your talents, it's a shame. But with your demonic bloodline… Zhige Academy can't admit you." He waved them off. "Try other academies."
Zhao Xunan watched them leave, shaking his head. The court's decree was harsh but necessary—no academy dared enroll a student with demonic blood since the Flower Demon Incident. Even the best talents couldn't outweigh the risk of transformation.
Half an hour later, the Battle Flag Room reopened. Candidates filed out, some elated, others dejected. When Zhao Xunan's turn came, his opponent was none other than Phoenix—the Imperial Preceptor who'd nearly killed him earlier.
"…Is this how you treat a determined warrior?" Zhao Xunan muttered.
Phoenix ignored him, snatching a flag-bearer pawn and slamming it down. Her true energy swept across the miniature mountains and fields, slamming into Zhao Xunan's chest and abdomen.
"Battle flags are treacherous. How many hits can you take?" she sneered.
Blood poured from Zhao Xunan's seven orifices as he rose, expression blank, and walked away.
The candidates exchanged glances. The once-divine Imperial Preceptor now seemed… petty.
"Academy Head," a Gengyi Battalion Commander from Tiance Academy interjected, "using such tactics to drive away a loyal warrior—is this not disgraceful?"
Zhige Academy fell under the War Ministry, and Tiance Academy oversaw the War Ministry. The commander's words carried weight.
The Academy Head sighed. "What can an old man like me do? The Imperial Preceptor is a celestial from the Shanchuan Secret Realm, close to the Emperor. I can't stop her."
The commander's face hardened. "Even the Imperial Preceptor must respect the future pillars of the nation!"
After a long silence, the Head murmured, "The Emperor values talent. But talent must be honored, not humiliated."
The commander left, muttering, "If this is how we treat talent, we might as well all die on the battlefield!"
Zhao Xunan walked home slowly, leading his horse. His initial frustration had faded—he'd wanted to enter the martial path, but if the court blocked him, so be it. With his reputation and literary skills, passing the imperial exams was all but guaranteed.
Yet resentment lingered. As he wandered, he found himself by a quiet lake. The gentle rustle of willows and ripples calmed his mind. For a moment, he felt a clarity he hadn't known in years.
Reincarnation had let him see through the world's illusions, yet he was still trapped by its trivialities. Mortal ties were too tangled. If the martial path was closed, why not abandon it?
With Fuyao Manual and Treasure Seeker's Record in hand, plus Bu's guidance, there were endless possibilities beyond this academy.
As he pondered, a familiar chime echoed. In Yujing, noble carriages hung wind chimes to alert commoners and avoid disturbing important figures.
"Neigh—" A familiar scent wafted over. Zhao Xunan turned to see Phoenix approaching.
"Still a child, lacking parental guidance. Brilliant as you are, you only know to act on whims. Your temper is abominable!" Phoenix's voice dripped with disdain.
Zhao Xunan said nothing, smiling faintly. To her, he looked like an elder watching a stubborn child.
Phoenix frowned, growing impatient. "You've made a name for yourself in literature, praised as a once-in-a-millennium genius. Why waste it on this nonsense?"
Zhao Xunan's gaze drifted. Memories flooded back: two children playing, a thin black girl chasing him. Decades later, they were strangers.
"Are you listening?" Phoenix snapped.
"I've already dissolved our engagement. I've done everything you asked. Why hurt me now, ignoring my father's life-saving grace?" Zhao Xunan's voice rose. He wiped blood from his lips; it dripped, a pathetic sight.
Phoenix faltered. Saving his life was undeniable—yet she'd repaid it with violence.
After a long silence, she turned to leave. "Call yourself a scholar if you want. But know this: your only path is to herd commoners as a lowly official!"
"Tell me," Zhao Xunan called after her, "why do you hate me? We've never met since childhood!"
Phoenix's carriage sped away. Her parting words cut through the air: "Ants dare challenge eagles? Wait till you top the Wind and Cloud Roll, then we'll talk!"
The carriage vanished. Zhao Xunan laughed, tears streaming. So that's why today's candidates were tested for spiritual roots—ranking the Wind and Cloud Roll has begun!
"Fenghuang, how you look down on me!" He wiped his tears, mounted his horse, and headed home. Passing Sound Hearing Pavilion, he spotted the updated Great Qin Wind and Cloud Roll.
The total roll remained blank—nations hadn't finished compiling data. But the Great Qin list showed top talents: first was Liu Chengzhi, with an Upper First Grade spiritual root and no recorded realm.
Further down was Song Tuzi, ranked nineteenth. Eight First Grade and ten Second Grade talents were listed above him, but their names were unfamiliar.
Zhao Xunan paused at Liu Chengzhi's name. In his past life, Liu had been a prodigy—Upper First Grade spiritual root, Qi Refining Realm 8. He'd been butchered by a cult in the Dahe Sect's secret realm, his body used as fertilizer. The incident had sparked a decade-long war against the cult, saving countless lives.
Now that's a twist. Zhao Xunan shook his head and left. Current rankings meant little—most listed talents hadn't even entered the Qi Refining Realm. And the roll ignored secret realm geniuses; their inclusion would shake up the list entirely.
Phoenix wasn't on it either. Not because she lacked talent—her spiritual root was peerless, her realm (Qi Refining Realm 9) unmatched. Listing her would be an insult.
On the way, Zhao Xunan stopped at a pharmacy. After consulting the doctor, he bought over a dozen herbal decoctions, spending 300 taels of silver.
"Painful," he muttered, wincing. He vowed: After the imperial exams, I'll travel the land, use the Treasure Seeker's Record to find rare herbs, and heal myself.
"Elder," the pharmacist said, wiping his face with a warm cloth, "I've been where you are—impulsive, stubborn. But later, I realized: so much is trivial. Wounding your foundation over pride isn't worth it."