The Wanjian Sect’s Grand Competition was an annual grand event held every January. Prior to that, the Inner and Outer Sect Examinations were conducted, divided into two categories: literary and martial exams.

The top performer in the Outer Sect exam could qualify to study in the Inner Sect. This year was especially significant because the opening of the Tianshui Secret Realm meant that only the top three Inner Sect disciples would gain entry to this coveted opportunity.

Today, snow blanketed the mountains, and the Wanjian Sect disciples gathered at Junzi Courtyard for the literary exam.

Ji Rong had not slept well the night before. Her head was foggy as she woke, only to be greeted by the dreadful prospect of the exam.

Although she had been practicing swordsmanship and had skimmed through some internal cultivation techniques, she still felt unprepared.

With just a month of study under her belt, she was practically walking into the exam blindfolded.

Liu Ningxue walked beside her, anxiously asking, “Senior Sister, have you reviewed the Eighteen Sword Techniques?”

Ji Rong replied confidently, “No.”

Such audacity for a blind exam taker truly worthy of being the senior sister.

Liu Ningxue was stunned. “If you don’t perform well, aren’t you afraid Elder Pei will reprimand you?”

Back when Ji Rong was still the original owner of her body and selecting a master in the game, she had decisively chosen Pei Hui.

The reason was simple. It was common knowledge that out of 365 days in a year, Pei Hui spent 360 days traveling. If he wasn’t already wandering the world, he was on his way to do so.

Choosing Pei Hui basically meant self-directed cultivation, a life of freedom and leisure.

She wanted to say that Pei Hui’s absence was so frequent that reprimands were unlikely, but to maintain her image, Ji Rong instead sighed and replied softly, “What’s done is done. Let it be.”

Gu Baiyi noticed a subtle change in Ji Rong’s expression.

Before receiving the exam papers, Ji Rong had maintained her usual indifferent demeanor. However, as soon as she saw the questions, a trace of joy and amazement appeared in her eyes.

Then, she began writing, not once raising her head.

Gu Baiyi knew that Ji Rong had previously excelled in martial exams but never took literary exams seriously. She found the topics dull and rarely studied, resulting in consistently mediocre scores.

Today, however, her senior sister seemed unusually confident.

With that thought, Gu Baiyi withdrew her gaze and focused on her own paper.

Meanwhile, Ji Rong was completely stunned.

Before receiving the paper, she had assumed she could just scribble something and get by after all, the original Ji Rong’s lackluster literary performance was well-known. Mediocrity would suffice.

But these questions…

When she saw topics about the human geography and cultivation techniques of various sects, she thought to herself, Isn’t this just free points?

“Four Seas Sect is located north of Xichuan, on the border of the great desert, characterized by landscapes of Gobi, shallows, and the Yellow River. It’s a scenic destination reachable by swift horses.”

“The Northern Frontier Flying Dagger Sect endures frequent sandstorms. Its members specialize in blade techniques, with hidden weapons as a secondary focus.”

“The seventeenth-generation leader of the Tianyin Division, Yan Haiyao, was renowned for his mastery of music and unparalleled beauty. He perished during the Battle of Demon Suppression, with his cenotaph now standing in Mirage Flower Palace.”

The Inner Sect literary exam had no time limit. The question bank contained a thousand scrolls, and typically, three hundred were randomly selected for each exam. It was impossible to finish them all, and the most outstanding disciples usually managed to complete only a hundred or so.

But Ji Rong, an experienced test-taker from the Celestial Empire, read and wrote at lightning speed, resembling a merciless answering machine.

Combined with her past experience in brush calligraphy and her familiarity with the game’s lore, she wrote with ease and momentum, filling scroll after scroll.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The maps she had traversed and the lore she had collected vividly resurfaced in her mind. Filled with nostalgia and emotion, she penned down everything without restraint.

As others gradually left, Ji Rong rubbed her sore hand and continued writing.

Today’s exam proctors were Ji Qingyang and Ye Yizhou. The former wanted nothing more than to drink, while the latter was reluctantly monitoring the exam.

Both had long wanted to leave but were astonished to find two disciples still writing.

Wanjian Sect’s questions were notoriously challenging. The literary exam required extensive knowledge of sects, customs, and geography, and without comprehensive understanding, it was impossible to score well.

Answering also consumed a significant amount of mental energy. Even with a sharp mind, completing all three hundred questions was a pipe dream.

After four hours, only Gu Baiyi and Ji Rong remained in the hall.

Ji Qingyang observed Ji Rong’s expression. Her demeanor was calm, and her eyes occasionally showed a trace of wistful reminiscence, as if she were mourning something.

He nodded slightly. This disciple, merely answering exam questions, managed to convey such profound empathy—it was as if she bore a sorrow for all beings.

Due to their prolonged exam sessions, disciples outside began whispering and exchanging curious glances.

Zhuang Fei’s beautiful eyes sparkled as she asked with a grin, “How many scrolls has Gu Baiyi completed? Did anyone manage to count?”

“One hundred eighty-seven scrolls.”

Wei Zongqiu glanced at Gu Baiyi, who was calmly picking up yet another scroll. His tone remained neutral, but the bamboo fan in his hand trembled slightly.

This is beyond monstrous.

Liu Ningxue, peeking through the intricately carved window, gasped audibly. “This is terrifying! Senior Sister Ji just picked up another scroll—it must be her 189th!”

“Hmph.” Dou Weiyi’s expression was unimpressed. “So what if it’s 189 scrolls? I refuse to believe she can surpass Senior Sister Jiang.”

Liu Ningxue wanted to retort but fell silent at the mention of Jiang Fei’s name.

Zhuang Fei chimed in, “Indeed. No matter how impressive they are, they won’t surpass her. Her record of 221 scrolls has stood for decades.”

“Tsk, tsk. If she weren’t out wandering the world, we wouldn’t even stand a chance at the secret realm.”

Wanjian Sect’s most exceptional disciples would typically leave the mountain to explore the world. Some founded sects, while others entered secular positions of power. But Jiang Fei was different.

Since leaving the mountain, she had journeyed toward the northern desert, braving the elements and treating the mountains and rivers as her pillows. Many assumed she sought a carefree, nomadic life.

Two years later, however, she reappeared north of Tianshan Mountain, redirecting the waters of the Yangtze River with a single sword strike. She fought Master Kongji of the Bodhi Sect to a draw.

The cultivation levels began at the Beginning Realm and ascended through realms such as Spiritual Communication, Heart-Seeking, Riding the Wind, Stepping on the Moon, and Chasing the Clouds. Reaching Infinite or Desperate was already rare, and the Returning to the Dust realm was practically a myth.

Kongji, known as the patriarch of Zen cultivation, had practiced Zen for two centuries and was a master at the mid-Chasing the Clouds realm, a half-step into the Infinite realm.

Jiang Fei, with only forty years of cultivation and at the peak of the Stepping on the Moon realm, was able to hold her ground against Kongji. Her talent earned her the title of Wanjian Sect’s most renowned and gifted disciple, revered as a deity by many.

“Even so, completing 190 scrolls would be a remarkable feat.”

Wei Zongqiu, known for excelling in literary exams, had only managed 154 scrolls at his best, ranking third after Jiang Fei. Yet now, two of the sect’s most frequently absent disciples had easily surpassed him, leaving him so shaken that he nearly dropped his fan.

“Why don’t we place a bet on which of the two will finish with more scrolls?”

Mo Yan, a disciple under Ji Qingyang, sipped her wine. True to her master’s nature, she was carefree and indulged in all manner of pleasures, particularly gambling. She wouldn’t miss a chance to profit.

“Sure, I’ll wager 1,000 jade essence on Gu Baiyi,” Dou Weiyi declared. Known for her temperamental personality, she naturally placed her bet without hesitation.

Wei Zongqiu raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I’ll wager 3,000 jade essence on Ji Rong.”

Liu Ningxue checked her token and saw only a modest amount of jade essence. Though she couldn’t match Wei Zongqiu’s extravagance, her loyalty to Senior Sister Ji prompted her to grit her teeth and say, “I’ll bet 500 jade essence on Senior Sister Ji.”

Dou Weiyi sneered, “Ji Rong is notorious for failing literary exams. Betting on her, how foolish can you be?”

But this time, Liu Ningxue was unfazed. She smiled and replied, “It’s my jade essence, so I’ll spend it how I like. Worry about yourself, Princess.”

My brain is fried.

This was Ji Rong’s only thought.

She had scoured her mind to answer countless questions, though some remained blank due to their sheer obscurity.

For example: What patterns were embroidered on the ceremonial robes during the Xuanqing Monastery festival in a particular year? How many variations existed, and what was their significance?

There was no way she could know this, unless she were one of the game developers.

The absurdity of it all made her want to curse the developers. The design of these 300 scrolls was clearly their handiwork. Were they out of their minds, torturing players like this?

Finally, exhausted, Ji Rong regretfully set down her brush and waited quietly for Ye Yizhou to collect her scrolls.

To her surprise, Gu Baiyi also set her brush down at the same time, her brows furrowed as if lost in thought.

I can write this much because I’ve played the game, but what’s her excuse?

Once again, the protagonist’s halo proved itself invincible.

Ye Yizhou, burdened with a towering stack of scrolls, had his Poshan Sword suspended in mid-air, struggling to carry another pile. His face twitched as he ignored the respectful bows of Ji Rong and Gu Baiyi.

He swore he never wanted to oversee their literary exams again.