Chen Xu sat as if in an abyss.

When the gaping maw of a beast came to devour him, what he seemed to see were not only those blurred and frenzied faces, but also the inescapable net of dust above and below, the unbreakable fetters.

Yet, in his chest, there was a fire burning.

Yesterday, he had written on his exam paper the line: "Its energy, vast and unyielding."

The ability to nurture the Vast Qi within his chest, yet could not break through the dust net that wears the body, the shadows before his eyes?

Capable of reading the golden words of wisdom in books, yet unable to open his own eyes?

No!

The Innate Qi lay dormant in the Dantian, but the flame in Chen Xu's chest only burned more fiercely.

"The human heart is perilous, the Dao Heart is subtle, with precision and unity, hold firm to the center!"

Confucianism is cultivation.

Taoism is cultivation.

The mortal world is cultivation.

The secular world is also cultivation.

The changes of the human heart, countless and varied, each living state, where is there no bitterness?

And yet, what of it?

There are always those who will break through, refusing to sink into the same depths.

Who can stop me from precision and unity, charging forward courageously?

Break!

Chen Xu made no sound, but as his eyes opened, there was indeed endless brightness in front of him.

He ignored the indistinct arms pressing on him, paid no heed to the murmuring incantation and frenzied shouts near his ears.

Even in the haze, a graceful figure emerged from among those shadows.

That figure lacked a distinct form, yet you would feel that she was certainly extremely beautiful.

Without added fragrance, her charm was boundless.

She leaned over, breathing softly in your ear like orchids, her voice like chirping orioles: "Since the mortal world is bitter, fame and fortune are bitter, why doesn't the young master take another look at a different great path?

On Celestial God Peak, in the clouds and rains of Wushan, with golden wind and jade dew, a hundred years in the mortal world... ah!"

Chen Xu spoke not a word, merely a rosy skeleton.

If you see it often, that skeleton becomes rosy.

If you pay it no heed, the skeleton remains just a skeleton.

Chen Xu embraced the origin and maintained unity, his heart and spirit calmed, fearless.

He clearly saw the examination shed, the desk board, and the examination paper before him.

And on the examination paper, the exam topic: Spring, only the fall of vegetation—

Assigned the word "wind," seven lines and six rhymes.

It turns out, the topic was to write about spring!

No, it was to write about the falling flowers of spring.

Chen Xu's mind spun and he had already crafted a poem.

But this poem, if written out, might be too penetrating, possibly not in alignment with the imperial exam theme of "for the empire's wealth."

For such exam poetry, the primary concern is not the brilliance of the poem, but whether the lines adhere to the theme.

Even if given the theme "falling flowers," one should not solely write about the falling flowers.

Instead, one should write about the splendor of spring, the fruits of autumn, wilting and sacrifice...

Write "petals fallen are not heartless, they turn into spring soil to nourish the flowers."

But, as it is often said:

What of it?

Chen Xu now takes the imperial examination not truly just for the empire's wealth, but for his own cultivation, his own future.

It is the great path ahead, the boundless wild!

The Bookworms have emerged; breaking through it, he becomes the top scorer.

Scared of nothing.

Write!

"Falling Flowers"

Chen Xu put pen to paper:

Yesterday the flowers bloomed red across the trees, today the fallen flowers empty the branches.

The glory nourished by three springs, changing in the wind of a single night.

...

These are the first four lines of the poem.

Just these four lines, the poem itself is quite ordinary.

But this poem also had the remaining four lines:

Beyond things, time naturally passes, who among mortals understands life and death?

The matters of growth and decay over a century, all pass like a dream in the eye.

The final line, penned down.

The shadows layer upon layer pressing on Chen Xu seemed like snow-made dolls, suddenly pushed into the sunlight.

All the shadows let out shrill screams together.

"Ah! Save me, I do not want to be a fleeting dream..."

"Life and death in the mortal world, life and death in the mortal world... Oh! Though living, I am already perished, unheard of the Dao in life, only to realize the truth after death. Though it hasn't been a hundred years, it feels like it's fine."

"Fame and wealth, ultimately are nothing more than the falling flowers on branches, withering and blooming. Oh, I am dissipating!"

...

There were cries, laughter, screams of unwillingness, and also sighs of relief.

For hundreds of years, who knows how many exams this ancient Imperial Examination Hall has witnessed, and how many ghostly apparitions it has birthed in its examination rooms.

Scholars appear glamorous in appearance, yet truly, only a handful ascend to the pinnacle.

So many more become mere specks of dust in the pursuit of fame.

Yet even so, people still continue to rush into this path.

Merely for the pursuit of the Dao?

No.

Those truly in pursuit of the Dao are likely few.

Chen Xu closed the inkwell beside him, placed the brush aside, and just as he was about to take the next action, suddenly saw that all the dissipating shadows ahead crowded together, merging into one mass in an instant.

A howling sound erupted in the air as if something was screaming to break through the mundane world.

Ah—

The howling sliced through the sky in an instant, crashing heavily onto the ancient bell at the forefront of the exam hall.

Dong, dong, dong!

Dong, dong, dong—

The long bell chime sounded six times.

Outside the exams, Cui Yunqi, seated on the second floor of the teahouse, abruptly stood up, utterly shaken, and said: "This, what on earth is this? No, this isn't the Cyan Smoke Poem fulfilled, it's the Bookworm Striking the Bell!"

Cui Yunqi's attendant, standing by, dumbly asked, "What is the Bookworm Striking the Bell?"

"It is, it is..." For a moment, Cui Yunqi couldn't quite articulate, as he found he didn't know how to explain the Bookworm Striking the Bell.

But his hands clutched the window frame before him, his body leaned out.

Down below, at the small square in front of the Imperial Examination Hall, many figures were already flocking, various voices resounding.

"Why did the bell ring?"

"What happened?"

"Could it be that the exam is over?"

"No, that's not right, the end of the exam is marked by three rings, not six."

"Then what, what is it?"

Eventually, someone with more insight responded at this moment with a solemn answer: "It's the Bookworm Striking the Bell."

Yes, it is the Bookworm Striking the Bell.

These dim creatures within the examination room, not knowing how many lives and generations, yet at this moment, merged together, flinging themselves as one.

Like moths to a flame, they collided with that Heaven-Equalizing Bell at the front of the examination room.

The bell rang, the bookworms scattered.

All the obsessions lingering in this ancient examination room, at this moment, were fully laid bare in the sunlight.

Then drifted away with the wind into the dust and smoke.

For countless years, always somewhat chillingly cool in this examination hall, now seemed like a breath of warm air brushed through.

"Hahaha!"

Finally relaxed, Ding Qian straightened up and laughed heartily.

He spoke with joy: "The Bookworm Striking the Bell, how wonderful! I did not expect in this prefectural examination presided over by this prefect, such a distinguished omen as the Bookworm Striking the Bell would appear.

Our Yunjiang Prefecture's Literary Fortune is bound to prosper!

The top scorer of this exam session is set, two Vice Examiners, accompany me to meet the top scorer?"

Among the two Vice Examiners, Luo Cong was both surprised and delighted, while Shi Wentao was strenuously concealing his confusion.

Pity him, not truly a scholar, having insufficient knowledge of some arcane matters, thus not knowing what the Bookworm Striking the Bell meant.

But could Shi Wentao dare admit his ignorance?

He dared not.

He was like a proud peacock, stripped suddenly of its tail feathers on stage, taken aback.

The plucked peacock was extremely alarmed, merely concealing his unease, without a word, carefully following the preceding group.

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