Chapter 115: Chaotic Strife (2)

The victory of Iron Lion was declared with two beats of a gong, a process so simple it was outrageous.

Even such a spectacle left the martial arts candidates ecstatic. In previous years, no one cared about the martial exams; after a group of warriors finished their bouts, they would eat a meal of cold pork and disperse, each searching for a place to stay. The grand ceremony of announcing names at the Donghua Gate was something these martial candidates dared not hope for, let alone the celebratory banquets, the donning of red silk, riding through the imperial path, or parading through the streets on horseback to receive the congratulations of the masses.

Wealthy candidates would set up tents on the training field to change clothes, put on armor, and rest. Those from humble backgrounds could only sit in the biting wind, chewing on cold flatbread and sipping strong spirits to warm their bodies, keeping their loosened muscles from cramping while anxiously awaiting their turn.

Yang Huaiyu also emerged victorious from a chaotic brawl. Like the others, after swiftly defeating his opponent, he was besieged by the remaining four. Though it was a strenuous fight, he defeated his opponents without suffering a single scratch. His poise and bearing were a cut above Iron Lion’s; the only difference was that he took a bit longer, unlike Iron Lion, who had dispatched his enemies with effortless ease.

Under the weight of their reputations, many others—Long Chuan, Liang Shimeng, Lin Jiaochuan, Lei Meng, Huo Beishan, Meng Tiefo, Ma Yan, Ying Wen, Huyan Shou, Cao Fang, Shi Zhong, and Gao Yanzan—also safely passed the first hurdle. Some relied on their own skill, while others relied on their families' formidable influence.

The most egregious case was Cao Fang. A burly man ignored his own opponent and stood in front of Cao Fang, using a copper staff to blast Cao Fang's opponent away before finally engaging his own. This burly man was highly experienced; he could have defeated his opponent in short order but deliberately dragged it out, only using a sudden burst of strength to crush his foe once the other three pairs were exhausted and battered. He then attacked the other candidates like a mad dog. After barely winning a three-on-one fight, he was struck by Cao Fang’s horse-spear and sent spinning through the air for three somersaults before hitting the ground, refusing to get up despite the prodding of the attendants.

Anyone could see it was cheating, yet the people of Dongjing cheered for Cao Fang, as if no injustice had occurred. Three hundred copper coins were enough to make the people of Dongjing turn a blind eye to everything. Huyan Shou, Shi Zhong, and Gao Yanzan passed the same way, though they were more discreet, at least enduring a hard-fought battle before securing their victory—a process far more palatable than the despicable method used by Cao Fang.

In the afternoon, the examination covered military strategy and tactics. Green cloth curtains were set up around the training field for the 112 successful candidates to write their papers. The invigilating officials were all from the Bureau of Military Affairs and the Ministry of War; there were even two Vice Ministers of War present.

Cao Fang sat at his desk and looked around, seeing several candidates staring blankly at the signs being carried about by the attendants. He couldn't help but chuckle. How could these men, who knew barely a basketful of characters, answer questions about the thirty-six military formations? The written portion of the martial exams had always been predictable, and as long as one had basic military knowledge, it wasn't difficult to pass. The military formation diagrams were a guaranteed topic every year; his father had even demanded he memorize all thirty-six common diagrams the night before.

However, when the attendant brought the questions to him, he froze. This year’s exam had three questions: two on strategy and one on reciting the Military Classics. Seeing this, Cao Fang’s hair stood on end.

The Song martial exams were divided into the Prefectural, Provincial, and Palace examinations, seemingly mimicking the civil exams. To reach the Provincial exam, one only needed to hit two out of nine arrows and lift a 150-pound stone lock. To pass the Provincial exam, one needed five out of nine arrows, a 180-pound stone lock, and proficiency in archery and horsemanship. Most of those present today had passed those requirements ten days ago. They were now in the final phase of the Provincial exam.

If the insane group brawls weren't enough, why bring out the five classics and seven books usually reserved for the top rank of the Palace exam? Cao Fang clutched his head, unable to utter a word. He could already see himself trudging through the desolate northwestern lands as a lowly soldier. He glanced secretly at Yang Huaiyu, who was writing furiously. Seeing the confident smile on that man's face, he knew this was one of those bastards who had actually studied military texts.

Over a dozen invigilators walked among the candidates with their hands behind their backs, occasionally peering at the papers. Some looked as satisfied as if drinking fine wine, while others looked as disgusted as if they had accidentally stepped in dog excrement. Most were frowning, looking less than optimistic.

A large, green-robed sleeve brushed against Cao Fang’s desk. When the official moved on, Cao Fang was surprised to find a paper filled with writing sitting in front of him. He desperately wanted to see who this god-like figure was, but his eyes were so blurred with tears of relief he couldn't see a thing.

He quickly began to copy it—that was the priority. With renewed confidence, Cao Fang dipped his brush and wrote with vigor. Though his mind was empty, he had put great effort into his calligraphy. The Cao family did not mind if their descendants were poor students, but they would never tolerate poor handwriting.

As he copied, Cao Fang took the time to glance around and noticed, to his surprise, that many who had been as dumbfounded as he was were now writing just as furiously. Most suspiciously, they were all busy copying, just like him.

After their rounds, the invigilators gathered in a corner to gossip, their laughter drifting over. Even Cao Fang could hear the thick irony in their mirth. He knew that if such blatant cheating occurred in a civil exam, heads would surely roll, and even the high-ranking ministers overseeing the exams would likely be exiled to Lingnan. But the martial exam was a mud pit. It was usually held every three or four years, but because the country had been at war, it had been held for four consecutive years. It was no wonder the civil officials didn't care; it lacked the rigor of the civil service examinations.

Cao Fang cursed the wretched exam as he copied; it had completely humiliated him. Once finished, he didn't want to stay a moment longer. He hastily signed his name and fled the examination hall.

When his servant, Cao Fu, asked how he had done, Cao Fang knocked him to the ground and beat him mercilessly before leaving the training field with a dark, livid face. The damned Provincial exam was over. Next, he would have to fight under the Emperor’s own eyes. He didn't know if he could survive it, or if the "arrangements" would hold. Given the current situation, it was highly likely the Emperor would attend the Palace exam in person.

In past years, it was considered a grand event if one or two third-rank officials showed up. Today, two Vice Ministers of War had appeared. At the thought, Cao Fang felt his head might explode. Was his true nature as a hollow fool really going to be exposed to the world? Riding home, Cao Fang desperately wished for his horse to go mad and break his leg—any tragedy would be a welcome relief.

When Yang Huaiyu came out, most people had already left. However, the invigilator had personally taken his paper and placed it neatly on a separate pile. This pile was very small, and its neatness stood in stark contrast to the messy, haphazard piles elsewhere. This worried Yang Huaiyu; the questions had been difficult, and at best, he could only hope for an above-average score.

The two strategy questions were about the threat of the Western thieves and the principles of commanding troops. The former was easy, as he had discussed it countless times with his father. As for the latter, his answer was mediocre; he had only ever led eleven penal soldiers, and to speak of command would invite ridicule.

Feeling anxious, he exited the hall and saw Tie Xinyuan grinning roguishly. Irritated, Yang Huaiyu snapped, "I’m in there suffering, and you’re out here watching a monkey show, yet you have the nerve to mock me."

"Cao Ba beat his servant when he came out. If you want to hit someone, go find your own servants; don't vent your anger on me."

Yang Huaiyu looked around and didn't see Su Mei. Tie Xinyuan teased, "In a crowd like that, do you expect Su Mei to dare come in? I was riding on Baozi’s shoulders, and I had my butt pinched several times by some shameless scoundrels. If Su Mei had spent the day squeezed among these stinking men, would you even want her anymore?"

Yang Huaiyu nodded, humbled. "The questions were hard. Two strategy essays and a recitation. I didn't do very well."

Tie Xinyuan pointed at the candidates trickling out and laughed, "Worse than them?"

Yang Huaiyu looked back and couldn't help but laugh. The "Iron Lions" who had been so fierce on the field had mouths stained black with ink; it seemed they had spent plenty of time chewing on their brushes.

"I suppose I’ll be better than them. After all, I’ve read more books, and with my father’s guidance, it shouldn't be too bad."

Tie Xinyuan glanced at the idlers hovering around Yang Huaiyu and smiled. "It's been a long day; time to eat. Xiao Qiao has already gone back to cook."

Yang Huaiyu rubbed his stomach. "Shouldn't we go to a grand restaurant for a feast? I'm starving. A roast lamb would be perfect."

Tie Xinyuan shook his head. "Better to go home and eat. I’m already tempted to put laxatives in the dinners of those scoundrels who have conflicting interests with you—let’s not add to the trouble."

Yang Huaiyu scratched his hair fiercely and growled, "Fine, let's go back and drink porridge and eat pickles."