Chapter 111: Uproar at the Hongwen Academy

From the moment Yuan Tiangang appeared to when the woman vanished, only two brief sentences had been exchanged. They had clashed once, yet the outcome remained indistinct. Yuan Tiangang did not give chase; his pupils transformed into a celestial river of stars as his power enveloped the entire pavilion. In an instant, the raging flames were extinguished.

Having done this, Yuan Tiangang turned his gaze toward the rooftop of the pavilion’s highest floor. In the darkness, a figure seemed to be seated there.

“You’ve been watching for so long; it’s time to reveal yourself, isn’t it?” Yuan Tiangang spoke, receiving no response. His expression suddenly hardened as he pointed a finger into the void. A beam of white light pierced through the endless darkness. The shadow winced in pain and let out a muffled groan, followed by the sound of footsteps trampling on roof tiles. Yet, Yuan Tiangang did not pursue. He stood with his back to Emperor Li Shimin for a long while. Only when the dark clouds above Chang’an gradually dispersed, and a sliver of moonlight shone upon the pavilion, did Yuan Tiangang come to his senses.

At that moment, Li Shimin lowered his gaze from the night sky and fixed his eyes steadily on the man before him.

“If I am not mistaken, you must be the diviner Yuan Tiangang often mentioned by my advisor. Truly a man of immortal bearing and boundless powers. Earlier, thanks to your timely arrival, I narrowly escaped disaster.”

“Your Majesty’s blessings are immense, and your martial prowess unmatched. Even without my humble skills, you would remain unharmed,” Yuan Tiangang replied, his eyes lowered, refraining from direct eye contact with the great Tang emperor. Li Shimin paid no heed and smiled, returning to the railing to survey the surroundings. Firelight within and beyond the city of Chang’an had diminished, and the clashing of swords and shouts of battle gradually faded. This vast city before them seemed to have endured a dream—a dream that was about to end.

“The court is currently in need of capable men. Though I wish to govern the realm by Buddhist teachings, I do not exclude Daoist sorcerers. I have heard that you once served as the magistrate of Huojing County. Should you accept a post in the court, I shall treat you with due respect,” Li Shimin declared.

“Your Majesty is benevolent and wise—a true enlightened ruler. However, with Wei Zheng already serving in the court, it would be inappropriate to appoint another diviner, lest it invite criticism. Regarding official duties, I humbly ask Your Majesty to revoke the decree. The calamity in Chang’an has passed; I shall now take my leave,” Yuan Tiangang said, his form blurring before vanishing from sight. Li Shimin neither spoke nor looked back.

Minutes later, the black clouds overhead suddenly exploded, scattering countless streaks of light across the sky. Storms roared, and the celestial phenomena shifted instantaneously. When all the scattered lights vanished into the heavens, moonlight and starlight once again bathed Chang’an.

The night sky was exceptionally clear, pure without a trace of impurity. From atop the pavilion, gazing in all directions, all was silent and serene beyond words. All turmoil seemed to have vanished, and the sleeping city of Chang’an appeared as if nothing had happened.

After a moment, Li Shimin burst into a hearty laugh, then walked down from the pavilion with his hands clasped behind his back. At that moment, Lu Xin had just recovered from a bout of dizziness.

Looking down, Ji Yu was nowhere to be seen; only a scattering of ashes remained, blown about by the wind. These were the remnants of the divine talisman’s burning, proof that everything that had transpired was no dream.

Shaking his head, Lu Xin still felt dazed. Despite the clarity of the night, his vision seemed blurred. Looking toward Zhuque Street, the ominous black clouds over Chang’an had disappeared, and the massive “leg” formation was gone. The world was eerily quiet, but this quiet no longer brought a sense of dread.

“Lu Xin, Qin’er, what are you doing here?” a voice called out.

Only then did Lu Xin fully awaken from his trance. Following the voice’s direction, he saw Yang Xiu had appeared at the alley’s end. Yang Qin, overjoyed, rushed forward to embrace her sister. Lu Xin also breathed a sigh of relief, a long-lost smile appearing on his face.

Yet Yang Xiu looked unwell, her face pale to an alarming degree. Her voice was also noticeably hoarser than before. Lu Xin felt concerned but, seeing no wounds on her, hesitated to ask further.

“Did you catch him?” Yang Qin asked.

“Hmm…” Yang Xiu nodded, then shook her head, her gaze evasive. “He escaped, but he’s gravely wounded. For now, he shouldn’t be able to return to Shangxuan Heavenly Sect.”

“That’s good. But this isn’t the place to talk. It seems the calamity in Chang’an has passed. Let’s return to the Qian Mansion to rest. We’ll discuss everything after we’ve slept.”

Though worried about Yang Xiu’s condition, Lu Xin knew this was not the time to probe. After a night of fighting, everyone was exhausted. Yue Buhui was severely injured, and the Yang sisters poisoned by snake venom—all needed rest.

When they returned to the Qian Mansion, it was already past midnight. Strangely, despite the chaotic upheaval throughout Chang’an, everyone in the Qian Mansion was sound asleep. Especially the servants’ quarters, where loud snores echoed like thunder. The scene was as bizarre as it was eerie.

“These pigs! Sleeping so soundly even with disaster looming—dying in bed sooner or later. Ah, why is this scholar cursed? Is it true that when Heaven assigns a great task, it first breaks one’s spirit and wears down the body? Fine, fine, I shall accept my fate. Come, let the storm rage even fiercer—ahhhh!”

Smack!

Before the scholar finished speaking, he was slapped on the back of the head by Yue Buhui, who was growing impatient. The fox demon cursed him a fool and cast a grave glance toward the servants’ quarters.

“You call that suffering? You spent the whole night sleeping in the grass. I think you’re comfier than a pig. With you like this, if you pass the imperial exam, then the Tang court is truly doomed.”

“Bah… what do you know! I went out to understand the people’s plight. I haven’t even taken office yet, but I’m already willing to risk myself for the common folk. If not me, then who? Besides, I never snore like those idiots.”

“Enough, stop bickering. The great calamity just passed, and you two have the mood to quarrel? I really can’t believe it. Fox, don’t bully the scholar for his lack of knowledge. If you’ve figured something out, just say it. Then go back and heal.”

“Xin-ge, what does ‘lack of knowledge’ mean?”

“Hehe, little Xinzi knows me well. Actually, everyone here is under an illusion spell. In Daoist terms, it’s a type of deceptive technique. No matter what’s happening in the world, their consciousness remains trapped in dreams. Even if you went in now and slashed them with a blade, they wouldn’t react.”

“An illusion? Could it be that all the people of Chang’an are under such a spell?”

Lu Xin was stunned. Yue Buhui’s words made everything clear. The turmoil in Chang’an had begun with the Purple Clear Immortal from Mount Sanqing playing his jade flute and battling Yuan Tiangang. Then the great fire at the Imperial Academy, the “Ba Snake” striking the palace, and successive factions appearing one after another. Finally, dark clouds blanketed the city, and the “Dark Moon Phantom” descended, shaking Chang’an like an earthquake.

Yet, despite all this, not a single commoner had dared to leave their home out of fear. From early evening onward, every household had not lit a single lamp. This was utterly inexplicable.

But who could have cast a spell on millions of people across Chang’an? Such a feat was terrifying. Yet, considering that Chang’an lay under the Son of Heaven’s feet, if the imperial court conspired in secret, it might be possible.

Back in the eastern wing, everyone found an empty room to sleep. Although Yue Buhui was gravely wounded, the fox demon’s powerful self-healing prevented damage to internal organs, so Lu Xin was not overly worried. As for their master Li Chunfeng, he had long prepared for Chang’an’s calamity. His cultivation was beyond the concern of a disciple at the second level of the Visionless Realm. Closing his eyes and recalling the night's events, Lu Xin soon fell into a deep sleep.

In the third year of the Zhenguan era, on the thirtieth day of the sixth month, the court’s imperial examination was held as scheduled. Early that morning, the scholar donned new clothes and woke Lu Xin from sleep. The time was still before dawn. Having only slept a few hours, Lu Xin was still bewildered. Yet the scholar was full of energy, his complexion radiant.

“Xin-ge, with the fox demon injured and the Yang sisters hurt, only you can see me off. Hurry up, the court has decreed the exam venue has changed from the Imperial Academy to the Hongwen Hall under the Menxia Department, right on the edge of the Western Market. Let’s go take a look.”

“What time is it? Since it’s so close, can’t you go by yourself? You’re no child; why need an escort to school?”

“Xin-ge, what are you saying? Having someone see you off is a matter of prestige. Those without company are just poor scholars. Am I that kind of scholar who can’t even afford a servant boy?”

“You really are something.”

“Xin-ge, I beg you…”

Unable to resist the scholar’s nagging, Lu Xin got out of bed. After a quick wash, he was practically dragged out of the Qian Mansion. Crossing the main street brought them to the Western Market—a vast, bustling place filled with crowds. The traces of the fire had completely vanished. The townsfolk seemed to have no memory of the previous night’s events—or perhaps no memory at all.

Seeing the stable and prosperous scene, Lu Xin smiled to himself, feeling at ease.

For ordinary people, it was best if swords clashed and the world turned upside down nowhere near them. Busy with daily chores, having clothes to wear when cold, and food to eat when hungry—that was enough. Most of life’s happiness was found in the ordinary. Lu Xin had always wished to be a simple, ordinary man, but fate had been far too fantastical for him.

Passing through the Western Market, the two entered Qunxian Lane. As the scholar had said, the court’s Hongwen Hall was located here, at the northwest corner of the market. Many candidates stood outside, some holding scrolls, reciting loudly. The scholar scoffed, mocking them for cramming at the last minute. It was Lu Xin’s first time witnessing an imperial exam scene and he felt delighted, wandering about and observing the scholarly atmosphere of the early Zhenguan years.

But he did not walk far before stopping beneath a willow tree.

“That child is barely old enough and already here for the exam? There’s a saying: ‘Thirty years old for the Mingjing, fifty years for the Jinshi.’ Even after decades of study, many don’t succeed. A mere child joining the fray is an insult to the imperial exam.”