Chapter Fourteen: The Examination Hall

Signed the contract—thanks to Starting Point TV for giving me a chance to start anew. I’ll do my utmost to write diligently and update every day. All readers can rest assured and read on—don’t forget to add this book to your shelves. Let me also thank Armed Bear, Pure Fox Pear, A Bit of a Sore Waist, Delusional Watermelon, and Endless Blue Cloud for their rewards and support.

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A faint red glow gradually appeared in the east, expanding swiftly until the entire pale horizon was painted a brilliant scarlet. The mists that blanketed the mortal world began to thin and soon vanished altogether.

Bathed in the dawn light, Liu Ping practiced his breathing quietly, feeling his mind exceptionally clear and serene—a sense of tranquility and harmony settling over him.

After three breaths, he did not stop. Though he could no longer absorb spiritual energy from the violet aura, he could still draw it from the world itself through his breath. The method was slow, but the refinement and purification techniques were unfathomably superior. This was the ability gained upon ascending to Ghost Immortal.

With this newfound skill, his cultivation speed would increase considerably, though advancing from Ghost Immortal to Human Immortal was by no means simple. Whether it was the tribulation or the vast reserves of spiritual power required, each was a formidable barrier—especially the final step: transforming spiritual energy into a liquid state, which demanded continuous accumulation.

It was truly fraught with difficulty.

The tribulation of a Ghost Immortal was not thunder, but the Trial of Solar Fire.

The Trial of Solar Fire required the soul to leave the body and endure the scorching of the sun. Only by surviving this ordeal would a transformation occur, enabling one to walk freely in daylight.

This was the difference between a Shade and a Ghost Immortal. No matter how powerful, a Shade would always find sunlight its nemesis, while a Ghost Immortal who passed the Solar Fire was no longer afraid of the sun.

After half an hour of breathing, Liu Ping opened his eyes. Last night, he and Liu Yue had wandered the night market until the second watch before finally returning. That little girl was probably still sound asleep, indulging in her laziness.

“Who’s taking care of whom, really?” he mused with a smile, shaking his head. He went downstairs, bought two bowls of porridge, two steamer baskets of dumplings, ten sesame cakes, and four large pork buns, then brought them all back to his room.

He happened to run into Wang Hong, who emerged with dark circles under his eyes, looking exhausted. Liu Ping couldn’t help but laugh. “You used to complain about the hardships of studying—why are you working so hard now?”

Wang Hong reached for a bun but Liu Ping smacked his hand away. Forcing a wry smile, Wang Hong replied, “The pressure is intense. The more I think about it, the less confident I feel. I couldn't rest easy, so I reviewed my notes over and over. Before I knew it, the night had passed.”

“You stayed up all night? Truly a diligent scholar.” Liu Ping shook his head. “With your talent, as long as you perform as usual, becoming a licentiate is well within reach. There’s nothing to worry about—don’t let yourself get too anxious.”

“That may be, but this examination has three thousand candidates and only a hundred will pass. With odds like that, no matter how confident you are, mishaps can always happen.” Wang Hong sighed. “Besides, thanks to you, if I become a licentiate, I'll receive a recommendation from the prefect and be admitted to the Tianqi Academy. I can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Now you’re making me nervous too.” Liu Ping tossed him a basket of dumplings. “But sleep is essential. Eat up, then go get some proper rest. You need to be in good health—otherwise, if you fall ill and can’t take the exam, all your efforts will be wasted.”

“You’re right.” Wang Hong quickly ate, stuffing two or three dumplings into his mouth at once, unbothered by the heat. “I do need to take care of myself. I’ll be off, then.”

After parting with Wang Hong, Liu Ping returned to his room, set the tray on the table, opened the study door, and lifted the gauze canopy. There lay the sleeping form of a beautiful young woman, her breath gentle and steady, one delicate hand peeking out from the covers.

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Watching his sister sleep, Liu Ping couldn’t help but smile. He reached over and pinched her nose, making exaggerated snuffling noises. She blinked awake, still groggy. “Brother? What are you doing here? Is it morning already?”

“Who was it that said we’d only stroll for a little while last night?” Liu Ping teased.

Liu Yue’s cheeks flushed as she protested, “You were having fun too!”

“Hurry and get dressed. I bought some buns and porridge. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Okay.”

Seeing how much pressure Wang Hong was under, Liu Ping felt a bit stressed himself. But looking at his adorable sister, the tension quietly melted away.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye, and the day of the autumn provincial examination finally arrived.

Before dawn, Liu Yue was already up. By the time Liu Ping had finished his breathing exercises at sunrise, he saw her preparing his things: brush, ink, paper, inkstone, and a carefully arranged selection of food.

When Liu Ping approached, she smiled and said, “Everything’s ready. Here’s your exam pass—keep it safe! Don’t be nervous at the exam hall. I know you’ll do well, Brother.”

He didn’t find her nagging at all—only a gentle warmth, the feeling of home. It was the sensation of always having someone by your side, quietly caring for you through everything. Since he asked her for this happiness, he must protect her in return.

“This book basket I specially asked Father for you. He used it when he passed his licentiate exam—it’s full of good fortune. It’ll help you pass!” Liu Yue pointed to the basket.

“So you even know about good fortune?” Liu Ping chuckled, opening the basket. The top layer held his writing tools, and beneath were sesame cakes, roast chicken, dried beef, eggs, and three or four apples and persimmons. “You’re so thoughtful—it’s perfect!”

Though the exam hall provided food and writing supplies, nothing could compare to what his sister had so carefully prepared. Liu Ping nodded in satisfaction.

He drank a bowl of porridge and ate two eggs. After saying goodbye to his sister and stepping outside, he saw Wang Hong waiting for him by the stairs.

Perhaps he’d taken Liu Ping’s advice to heart—Wang Hong looked much better. The two exchanged a smile, said nothing, and went straight to the examination hall.

After verifying their exam passes, the next step was to bathe—first, as a measure against contagion since the examinees would be confined for three days; second, to prevent any hidden cheats. Though rare, among three thousand candidates there were always a few who tried their luck and ended up caught.

Those caught cheating turned ashen-faced, utterly desolate. Their fate was lifelong disqualification and an indelible mark of shame. Every few years, there were those who, failing in their deceit, ended their lives in despair.

“If you don’t seek death, you won’t die—why can’t they understand that?” Liu Ping wondered. This was an imperial selection, not a game—how could such petty tricks possibly succeed?

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As he disrobed and bathed, he suddenly recalled something and couldn’t help but laugh wryly. “Impossible, surely?”

When registering and collecting his exam pass, he’d heard someone called Zhu Yingtai. But under such strict supervision, how could anyone possibly pass as the opposite gender? It must be a coincidence of names.

The inspection of writing tools and food went smoothly, and Liu Ping found his assigned cubicle.

The room was barely two meters in each direction—cramped, but livable for a few days. But to eat, drink, and sleep all within those confines was undeniably harsh.

Luckily, as a Ghost Immortal, Liu Ping could go three days without needing to relieve himself.

On the desk were brushes, ink, and food—meat pies and rice cakes, supplied daily.

He sat at the table. After half an hour, the examination hall, once abuzz with three thousand candidates, fell utterly silent.

Another hour passed. The chief examiner Xu Jing and deputy examiner Lin Xiang checked the time, exchanged a glance, and nodded. “Invite the Exam Deity!”

Had Liu Ping heard this, he might have laughed. In his previous life, there were always students who, though poor students day-to-day, would pray to some Exam God before tests, hoping to pass and avoid failing.

But this was different. Xu Jing approached an altar, took three sticks of incense, lit them, then bowed solemnly three times before a stack of deity-printed papers. She respectfully placed the incense in the burner.

“Affix these images of the Exam Deity to every examination room!” Lin Xiang directed the attendants.

There were over three thousand candidates spread across twenty halls. The guards affixed the images and reported back.

The first checkpoint, the ritual bath, was to deter cheating candidates; the second, the Exam Deity, was as much for monitoring the examinees as for keeping the examiners honest. With these two measures, cheating was nearly impossible.

Sitting at his desk, Liu Ping watched the patrolling guards and the gradually manifesting presence of the deity. Alarmed, he quickly composed himself. In this world, there was no rule forbidding Daoists from taking the imperial exams, but it was clear that if his true identity were exposed, he would face many difficulties.

After another half hour, the test papers finally arrived.

The first day’s subject was the Classics—fill-in-the-blank questions. It sounded simple, but was in fact daunting. Even those well-versed in the Four Books and Five Classics needed considerable effort to recall everything—let alone the thick sheaf of test papers, a true ordeal.

A three-day exam was not without reason.

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