Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 97 The Return of the Young Man Shocks the City; The Jiangzhou Prefecture Examination Begins!
News of the bloody battle in Wuxi County last night has already reached the Jiangzhou government office, carried by an urgent messenger on an eight-hundred-mile journey through the frosty morning.

The bluestone slabs on the official road still bear the lingering frost marks from horses' hooves.

Prefect Xue Chonghu personally opened the vermilion-lacquered military report box and unpacked the battle report, which was soaked with the smoke of war.

"A monstrous tide from Taihu Lake struck Wuxi County, leaving the soldiers without arrows or provisions; the watchtowers and beacon towers were reduced to scorched earth—"

"The magistrate of Wuxi died in battle at the East Gate, his body still clutching a broken sword."

"Magistrate Zhao Zhen wrote a message in blood on the wall and led his remaining troops to defend the county government office to the death. The city was about to fall again!"
Suddenly, it appeared that Master Zhou, leading the students of Jiangzhou Prefecture, transformed into a thousand-foot-long ray of light, and arrived across the sky!

Xue Chonghu's voice was as loud as a bell, and when he read this, all the civil and military officials in the hall held their breath and focused their attention.

"The next day, Demon King Ao Li personally led 100,000 demon soldiers, and dark clouds pressed down on the city!"

"The eerie fog surged like a tide, swallowing the sky and stretching for dozens of miles. Outside Wuxi city, it blotted out the sun!"

"Young Jiang Xingzhou climbed alone to the perilous city wall, drew his bow, and stepped onto the ramparts, reciting aloud 'The Ballad of the Frontier - The Stone-Edged Arrow'—"

"The sound fades, the arrow is released!"

"An arrow pierces the moon, like a thunderclap tearing through the sky; the turtle demon general's skull is pierced, and his demonic blood splashes across the heavens!"

"The demon army was terrified and collapsed like a landslide!"

Prefect Xue Chonghu's tiger-like eyes gleamed with a fierce light. When he read this part, his voice shook the rafters. His gaze was fixed on the three characters "Jiang Xingzhou" when he suddenly looked up at the sky and laughed loudly.

"Well done! Well done, Jiangzhou lads!"

He flicked his sleeves and shouted loudly:

"By order of the Prefect—"

"The whole city was decorated with red ribbons and colorful decorations, and the sound of drums and music filled the air!"

"Welcome back, students of Jiangzhou, to the city in triumph!"

Before the words were even finished, a gong suddenly rang out outside the hall, as loud as thunder. The head constable, Liu, leaped out, shouting orders all the way, his voice echoing through the long street!

"Great victory! Good news from Wuxi County!"

In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, the entire city of Jiangzhou was already boiling like water.

The floodwaters in Jiangzhou Prefecture had just receded, but the streets and alleys still carried a refreshing, cool mist.

The newly hung indigo sails of the tavern fluttered in the evening breeze, and the blue stone street, washed clean by the torrential rain, reflected the crimson sunset, like the afterglow of a battlefield where blood and fire mingled.

"Wow--"

Red silk ribbons hung down from the vermilion gate towers along the street, fluttering like waves.

The tavern owner opened a bottle of Daughter's Red wine that had been sealed away for twenty years, and the rich aroma of the wine instantly filled the entire long street.

The storyteller in the teahouse slammed his gavel on the table, the sharp sound shattering the silence: "Ladies and gentlemen—today we shall tell the tale of 'The Young Man of Jiangzhou'! It is truly: 'His literary brilliance shines like the stars, a single arrow decides the fate of the world!'"

As the sun sets in the west, its afterglow bathes the vast Jiangzhou River, making the entire prefecture appear as if it has been painted.

At the end of the official road, a group of students in plain clothes shattered the twilight, flying in on swords and boats, riding the clouds and mist.

Zhou Yuanjun, wielding a cyan sword and dressed in a splendid blue robe, stood behind a thousand students in white robes as white as snow, their flowing garments seemingly carrying an aura of scholarship.

Suddenly I heard—

The bugle call from the city wall pierced the sky, its sound shaking the heavens!
Thousands of lights suddenly ignited, forcing the evening glow to retreat by three points.

Red ribbons fluttered on both sides of the long street, and lanterns hung high like an inverted Milky Way.

The sounds of gongs, drums, and firecrackers exploded, shaking the bluestone slabs!

A thousand students from the prefectural school marched into the city in formation, while a hundred constables led the way with knives, their vermilion fire-tipped sticks gleaming coldly in the firelight.

"Prince Zhou, along with the students of the prefectural school, is returning to the city!"

A shout, like a spark falling into a sea of ​​oil, caused the entire street to erupt in a roar.

The streets of Jiangzhou Prefecture were packed with people, hundreds of thousands of people were eating and drinking, and cheers reached the sky.

But see,

Jiang Xingzhou entered Jiangzhou Prefecture, walking at the front on the bluestone. The plain white linen wrapped around his left arm was stained with blood, and the war bow at his waist was still stained with demon blood and rust.

The sword at his waist clashed with the bow, the sound as sharp as tearing silk, drowning out the clamor of the entire city.

"Look, it's Jiang Lang!"

No one knows who first threw out a branch of osmanthus, apricot blossom, crabapple, or sweet osmanthus. In an instant, fragrant flowers rained down on the students of Jiangzhou Academy.

The flower girl tiptoed through the crowd, and the withered flowers in her bamboo basket were pushed and fell to the ground.

In the fragrant pavilion facing the street, several young ladies pushed open the carved windows and leaned against the railing to look out, their red lips half-hidden behind silk fans.

"Meow--"

Even the raccoon dog crouching under the eaves of the tavern perked up its ears, its golden eyes reflecting the falling petals, and pounced with its claws.

"Jiang Lang is truly as cold and aloof as frost!"

Among them, the young lady in the apricot-red dress had trembling fingertips, and the silk handkerchief was twisted in her palm, creating fine ripples.

"Oh, he's injured. My heart aches!"

"His new piece from yesterday, 'The Ballad of the Frontier - The Stone-Edged Arrow,' was so sharp and cold that it made one's heart tremble."

She suddenly pressed the round fan heavily against her chest, the pale yellow tassels swaying gently. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on her snow-white neck, visible through the collar of her silk robe.

"In my dreams, I see Jiang Lang in Wuxi County, holding a bow and shooting demons!"
The crescent moon was like a hook.

Jiang Lang stood on the battlement, the cold iron bowstring cutting his fingertip, a drop of blood staining his face.

A feathered arrow pierced the night sky, the ice crystals condensed on its tip blooming into a three-foot-long frost, and the great demon immediately spat out its blood.
It died. Its death was so poignant! It looked just like the crimson silk dress I just bought at the West Market Silk Shop!
"Pah! Serves him right!"

She suddenly opened her eyes, her gaze shimmering with tears.

"Sister, you've gone mad!"

The girl with twin buns beside her hurriedly covered her mouth, "Were you perhaps bewitched by the storybook 'Tales of Demons and Monsters' last night?"

Jiang Xingzhou paused slightly, raised his eyes for a moment,
I saw young ladies leaning against the railings of the carved windows along the street.

The setting sun cast its last rays on his cold, handsome profile, and the usual sternness between his brows softened slightly. Hearing the girls' calls, a barely perceptible blush rose to the tips of his ears.

In the instant he raised his eyes,

The long street suddenly fell silent!
"Jiang Lang——!"

Between the carved windows and vermilion railings, a chorus of excited exclamations erupted from the young girls, their embroidered shoes clattering on the floorboards.

"He... he looked at me!"

The young woman in the apricot-red half-sleeved shirt cried out in a trembling voice, and the peach blossom fan in her hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," as if she had fallen into a daze.

"Nonsense! They're clearly looking this way."

The girl next to the window, who had her hair styled in a high bun, leaned halfway out in a hurry. The gold bracelets on her jade wrists jingled and nearly knocked over the candied plums in the gilded lacquer tray next to the window table.

Behind Jiang Xingzhou in the government and government procession.

Han Yugui, dressed in a moon-white robe, arrived in the twilight, a gilded pen case at his waist swaying gently with each step, seemingly concealing countless exquisite articles.

"call out--!"

Lu Ming put two fingers to his lips and let out a clear, mischievous whistle towards the young women on the street.

He had a sword hanging at his waist, and a wine pot at his waist swayed gently with his laughter. Amber wine swirled in the pot, and the scent of ink wafted from his sleeves. His starry eyes, beneath his sword-like eyebrows, shone brightly, and his brows were full of youthful vigor.

Gu Zhimian carried a three-foot-long sword on his back, the jade rings on the tassel jingling as he waved to the people on the roadside, his face beaming with joy.

The old woman, her steps trembling, brought over freshly brewed plum wine, insisting that the returning students of the academy drink several large bowls.

Children held up newly made celebratory carp lanterns, and farm women picked baskets of fresh loquats to give to the returning students.

The students from Jiangzhou Academy, dressed in blue robes, stood solemnly on both sides of the street to welcome him.

In front of a teahouse on the street corner, an old scholar tapped his cane on the bluestone pavement with a thud, stroking his beard and praising it:
"What a group of outstanding young talents, so handsome and extraordinary!"
With such brave and valiant men who bravely went to battle and returned victorious, how could Jiangzhou Prefecture not prosper!

“My father-in-law is right!”
This is the magnificent scene of Jiangzhou Prefecture, a place where literature and scholarship flourish!
This is the youthful spirit of wielding the pen like a sword and spreading out the paper as a vast territory!

The storyteller in the teahouse had already taken out his gavel. After finishing a section of "A Young Man's Journey," his inspiration exploded.
The wolf-hair brush, saturated with thick ink, instantly bloomed on the snow-white Xuan paper.

I quickly captured the brilliance of Jiang Xingzhou and the other young people at this moment and wrote it into a storytelling segment of "The Legend of the Demon Slayer King of Wuxi - by Huanzhu"!

Zhao Mansion in Jiangzhou.

Zhao Zilu was engrossed in studying "A Selection of Past Examination Questions for Jiangzhou Prefecture" when suddenly a burst of firecrackers and noise erupted outside the window and courtyard wall.

"Jiang Lang! Jiang Lang is back!"

The cheers of the girls flooded into the study like a tidal wave, causing his pen to tremble and ink to splatter on the "Ode to Spring Ploughing" that he had just memorized.

"Noisy!"

He hated hearing that name the most, and he slammed down his wolf-hair brush, the cuff of his sleeve flipping up the celadon brush washer, splashing water that wetted a stack of "Secret Examination Questions" piled on his desk.

"I'd like to see what's so admirable about this guy!"

Zhao Zilu, his face grim, slammed open the gates of the Zhao residence.

But then they saw crowds of people thronging both sides of the long street.

Red silk flutters like waves.

A thousand students from the academy, dressed in pristine white, marched through waves of cheers.

Who else could it be but Jiang Xingzhou, the one in the blood-stained blue robe at the very front?
He stood on the vermilion threshold of the Zhao residence, his fingernails digging fiercely into the carved door frame, almost crushing it, his face full of sour disdain.

"Hmph, don't be fooled by their current success!"
It's just vanity!
"What could be more beneficial than me memorizing dozens more questions for the prefectural examination?"

The old steward behind him hurriedly bowed and echoed, "Young master is absolutely right! Young master has already prepared dozens of essays in the past few days, and he knows all the past exam questions by heart. He will definitely stand out from these young scholars in the prefectural exam!"

Zhao Zilu stared at the war bow at Jiang Xingzhou's waist, which was engraved with the golden war poem of [Dafu], and it stung his eyes.

He turned around angrily and walked into the mansion, clutching a copy of the "Secret Examination Paper" in his sleeve with a creaking sound, his black boots crushing a pile of red firecracker paper on the ground.

"Crackling~!"

Amidst the deafening sound of firecrackers,

Zhou Yuanjun, along with the young students of the prefecture, arrived at the Jiangzhou Prefectural Academy.

At the gate of Jiangzhou Prefecture, Prefect Xue Chonghu personally unveiled the red silk—the four gilded characters "[Literary Courage and Martial Spirit]" shone brightly, causing the people on the street to hold their breath and look up in awe.

Xue Chonghu's voice was as loud as a bell:
"This plaque is not hung for one person today! It is for the courage of the sons of Jiangzhou and the backbone of all scholars in the world!"

"Thank you, Prefect!"

Before the words were even finished, all the young men in the academy clasped their fists in unison.

Jiang Xingzhou stood at the front of the crowd, his left arm numb and stained with blood, but his back was as straight as a pine tree.

As night deepened,
The noise dissipated.

The red ribbons on the long street fluttered gently in the night breeze, and the remaining firecracker debris was swept into the ditch by the watchman, making a soft rustling sound.

One by one, the lights in the entire city of Jiangzhou went out.
Only a single candle flickered in the window of the Zhao residence, burning brightly all night.

On the window paper, the image of Zhao Zilu, bent over his desk writing furiously, was reflected.

The next day.

As the eastern sky began to turn grayish-blue, a thin mist draped Jiangzhou City in a plain veil.

Outside Jiangzhou City, the winding field ridges were already bustling with people.

Zhou Yuanjun, his blue robe half-rolled up, walked at the forefront with the instructors and tutors from the prefecture and five counties, their steps treading through the morning dew.

Hundreds of scholars and two thousand students followed closely behind, their hoes and carrying poles gleaming coldly in the dim light, the sound of boots sinking into the spring mud rising and falling, startling a few egrets.

Although the floodwaters have receded, the damage remains.

Outside the city, thousands of acres of fertile fields were flattened and the rice stalks were submerged in muddy water, barely clinging to life.

"Support the rice!"

The old farmer's hoarse shouts pierced the morning mist.

"Time to get to work!"

Several scholars immediately lifted their robes and rushed into the mud.

Not far away, barefoot farmers were bending over to clear ditches, their bronze backs reflecting the rising sun, the sound of shovels digging in the mud never ceasing.

Jiang Xingzhou wiped his face with mud and water, the mud and water that leaked through his fingers carrying a few wisps of rice blossom fragrance.

Zhao Zilu, dressed in a brocade robe and spotless black boots, stood alone on a high point in the field.

He clutched the "Essentials of Agricultural Administration" tightly in his hand, his brow furrowed, clearly unwilling to get involved in the muddy fields.

"Young Master, shall we... not go down?"

The servant lowered his voice and glanced at the muddy field.

"No hurries?"

Zhao Zilu, a student at the prefecture, dusted off non-existent dust from his sleeve. “Only by first ascertaining the extent of the disaster can we coordinate relief efforts—it’s clearly written in this book.”

The way to govern is to simply order your subordinates to do the work. Why bother doing it yourself?

His gaze swept over the busy figures in the fields, lingered for a moment on Jiang Xingzhou's mud-covered figure, then curled his lip before quickly looking away.

With a flick of his sleeves in the wind, Zhou Yuanjun pointed to the thousands of acres of disaster-stricken rice fields and assigned them to the jurisdiction of three hundred students from Jiangyin County.

"These disaster-stricken fields are now under your jurisdiction!"

Professor Zhou said.

"Yes!"

Instructor Zheng of Jiangyin County bowed respectfully. In the morning mist, he turned to face the three hundred students, his voice as clear and resonant as a chime:

"Today, let's take the Lesser Fullness solar term test as a special test for the students of Jiangyin County!"
Firstly, it will save the food supply for the people of Jiangzhou!
Secondly, I will teach you the fundamentals of being an official. If you pass the imperial examinations and become a county magistrate, agriculture and sericulture are the foundation for performance evaluation!

Three hundred students stood solemnly amidst the mud.

He added, "In the performance evaluation of the magistrate of Dazhou County, agriculture and sericulture account for a full 30% of the weight."

With a light tap of his boot on the paddy field ridge, he said, "Every stalk of rice you lift up today is a testament to your ability to govern the county in the future."

As the saying goes, "[The scholar's writings are the rice and millet of the local government]."

If you cannot pass the imperial examination and enter the Hanlin Academy to become a distinguished scholar, you will only have to deal with literature all day long.

Therefore, the livelihood of the people in these prefectures and counties is your path to officialdom through the imperial examinations!

finished,

"Go to the field!"

Instructor Zheng stood on a high point on the ridge of the field, his hands behind his back, and said, “Remember! After a flood, crops are like wounded soldiers; saving them is like putting out a fire! For those whose roots are not rotten, straighten them and make them firm! Remove rotten leaves and withered ears of grain immediately!”

"Yes!"

Three hundred young scholars stepped into the swamp.

The sour stench of rotting rice mixed with the fishy smell of damp earth hit me in the face, and the muddy water was up to my ankles, splashing up filth that bloomed like muddy flowers on the hem of my clothes.

A young student bent down to support the rice plants.
Some teenagers dug ditches to drain water.
Their pale faces gradually became flushed with the rosy glow of labor.

Jiang Xingzhou stepped into the field, his fingertips parting a clump of blackened rice leaves.

The viscous liquid seeped out and was even slightly hot.

His pupils contracted slightly—the rice paddy was decaying at an abnormal rate, with signs of withering and yellowing, and even spiderwebs spreading.

With the arrival of Xiaoman (Grain Buds), it is a critical juncture for rice to grow and develop ears.

A sudden gust of cold wind arose, and amidst the surging waves of rice, dozens of pale, tumor-like objects abruptly appeared.

They swell up like eggs, wriggling and gnawing among the rice leaves, making a soft "rustling" sound.

"This is... a moth-like demonic insect?"

Jiang Xingzhou frowned.

Zheng Shuqian stood with his hands behind his back, and seeing Jiang Xingzhou bending down to remove the decaying leaves from the rice stalks, he couldn't help but ask, "Jiang Xingzhou, if you want to use your literary skills to save this rice, what classic texts should you choose as your guide?"

Jiang Xingzhou straightened up, pondered for a moment, and cupped his hands, saying, "Your Excellency, the poem 'July' from the 'Airs of Bin' is the most agriculturally significant piece in the Book of Songs. It describes the way of farming in detail according to the four seasons, making it most suitable for this purpose."

He paused for a moment: "Furthermore, the chapters on 'farming' in the 'Essential Techniques for the Common People' and the statement in 'The Exploitation of the Works of Nature' that 'the five grains cannot grow on their own, but are produced by human beings' are also very good."

Zheng Shuqian stroked his beard and nodded, his eyes revealing approval: "Excellent! The Book of Poetry is the literary classic we use most often. It is the condensation of the wisdom of our ancestors, which has endured for thousands of years. Its mysteries are indeed remarkably effective!"

He flicked his sleeve and continued, "Next should be agricultural classics, such as the *Qimin Yaoshu* and the *Shennong Bencao Jing*."

Today, I will use the poem "July" from the Book of Odes of Bin as an example for you all—"Millet and sorghum grow abundantly, as do rice, hemp, beans, and wheat!"

This sentence means that millet and sorghum ripen one after another, and all the grains, hemp, beans, and wheat are stored in the granary.

The voice has not fallen,

Zheng Shuqian pointed his fingers like a sword, drawing a dazzling golden line in the void.

The verses transformed into radiant, colorful runes, solidifying in mid-air, each word a gem, exuding an ancient and profound aura.

As the runes fell, they transformed into a sky full of starlight, completely enveloping the acre of millet in front of them.

As the sunlight shone through, the rice seedlings that had been lying flat gradually stretched out, and the withered yellow veins of the leaves regained their green color, standing up as if they had been reborn.

In the short time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the entire acre of rice paddy has been completely transformed.

The lush green rice seedlings swayed in the breeze, showing no trace of the disaster that had just struck.
There was even a faint flow of spiritual energy between the ridges, making the area appear even more vibrant than before.

In a short while,

An acre of rice paddy that was originally severely damaged by the disaster has miraculously recovered its lush greenery and vitality.

Upon seeing this, the students immediately began to cry out in sorrow.

They beat their chests and stamped their feet, covered their faces and sighed deeply; some even collapsed to the ground, as if their bones had been pulled out.

"The literary techniques of the Book of Songs? This...this is too difficult!"

A round-faced young scholar stammered, "Last time I tried seven times, and not even a spark appeared!"

The tall, thin student next to him chimed in with a bitter face, "I did succeed once, but I ended up prematurely ripening the chives in my own garden into chive stalks, and my dad chased me for three blocks."

Zheng Shuqian stroked his beard and smiled: "It is precisely because of the difficulties that the value of this literary art is revealed."

If you succeed even once today, then you've made progress.

I'm about 60-70% confident about passing this year's prefectural examination!

With a wave of his sleeve, he shouted, "Let's get to work! Everyone, save ten acres of rice paddies!"

Soon, the sound of young students reciting poems rose and fell in the fields.

Some people were so embarrassed that their faces turned red, some were gesturing wildly, and some were even bowing and kowtowing to the rice stalks, creating an unpleasant scene.

Jiang Xingzhou concentrated and held his breath, a faint blue light emanating from his fingertips.

With a flourish of his pen, he first quoted a line from the Book of Songs: "The seventh month of the Bin Feng section—'Millet and sorghum grow thick and abundant, rice, hemp, beans, and wheat!'"

The key words are suspended in mid-air, then connected to the agricultural classics: "Tiangong Kaiwu: Naili - The five grains cannot grow on their own, but are produced by human beings."

The two streams of literary energy complemented each other, shining brightly in the field, and the literary technique was successfully executed in one go.

Wherever it passed, the fallen rice stalks stood up straight as if obeying a command.

A gentle breeze swept across the newly sprouted rice tips, dispelling the stagnant, musty smell that had accumulated over the past few days.

"Brother Jiang, you did it in no time!"

One of the students exclaimed in surprise.

Upon seeing this, everyone's spirits immediately lifted.

Amidst the resounding recitation of classical texts, some people felt grains sprouting from their fingertips, while others felt the fragrance of rice lingering on their sleeves.

Although occasionally the literary style gets out of control, causing the rice ears to grow wildly and the whole place to be lush and green, it still has a unique charm.

The success rate of releasing the literary techniques from the Book of Songs was not high; it might not succeed even once in seven or eight attempts, but the students did their best.

Not far away, Han Yugui took a different approach.

"Spring Ploughing Chapter!"

He formed hand seals and chanted incantations, unleashing a completely different literary technique—a poem he had written about spring plowing.

The results are quite good!

Time flies like water, and half a month has passed in the blink of an eye.

Before the morning dew had dried, students in blue robes from the five counties of Jiangzhou Prefecture arrived, stepping through the thin mist along the paddy field ridges.

He nourished the rice seedlings with literary talent and enriched all things with the wisdom of sages. After half a month of hard work, he brought life back to the withered rice paddies outside the city.

It is the time of Lesser Fullness of Grain in the lunar calendar, and the rice ears are just beginning to sprout new flowers. The green and yellow waves of the ears undulate in the morning breeze.

The students' increasingly refined literary skills—the once abstruse knowledge of the Book of Songs has become fluent and elegant, and where their literary talent shines, even the withered rice leaves gleam with an emerald luster.

The rice paddies outside Jiangzhou city were a picture of abundance, with ears of rice just beginning to ripen, the grains full and yet to fully open.

As the evening drums sounded, the sunset painted the city walls of Jiangzhou with vibrant colors. The young men, bathed in the glow of the sunset, returned home, their clothes still carrying the sweet fragrance of rice blossoms.

On the blue brick path of the Duke Xue's mansion,

The eight young figures hurriedly walked through the corridor.

Jiang Xingzhou shook off fallen rice leaves from his clothes, the Xue brothers' boots were still covered in spring mud, and Lu Ming's face was covered in mud and water.

They quickly changed and washed, then went straight to the study to sit down at their desks.

To facilitate their study and problem-solving, they all lived in the study and side rooms in the backyard of the Xue residence.

The lamp flame crackled and popped softly in the bronze lamp holder, illuminating the yellow scrolls in the room as if they were plated with gold leaf.

The stacks of past Jiangzhou Prefecture examination questions on their desks were already worn out from being flipped through so many times, with dense red-pen annotations like ants crawling across the paper.

Gu Zhimian held the Analects scroll in his hands, pondering and shaking his head.

Han Yugui frowned as he looked at the "Essentials of the Prefectural Examination," pondering its profound meaning.

The Xue brothers were still studying and solving problems, dipping their brushes in ink and wielding their calligraphy.

tomorrow,

This is the Jiangzhou Prefecture Examination!

The young men dared not slack off for even a moment.

A crescent moon was quietly climbing up the eaves outside the window. It was almost midnight when the young men finally fell into a deep sleep.

"Clang~ Clang—!"

The clapper at dawn shattered the morning mist.

As dawn broke, Jiang Xingzhou woke up immediately in his room.

A thin layer of bluish-gray mist still shrouded the outside of the window, and the crowing of roosters could be heard in the distance.

"Today is the prefectural examination!"

He dared not delay and carefully examined the examination box that had been prepared beforehand.

Three Huzhou brushes, all with neat and even bristles.

Pine soot ink sticks, their subtle fragrance wafting in the air.

The edges of the Xuelang stationery are pressed flat.

A blue stone inkstone, polished to a mirror-like shine.

"Brother Jiang, is everything settled?"

Han Yugui knocked on the door.

Jiang Xingzhou took a deep breath, ran his fingertips lightly over the inside of the box to confirm that everything was in order, and then closed it, replying in a deep voice, "Let's go."

The morning breeze was slightly chilly.

A moment later, inside the Duke Xue's mansion, eight young men were already fully prepared, their jade pendants jingling as they hurried along.

After leaving the Duke of Xue's mansion,

They traveled directly to the gate of Jiangzhou Academy by carriage from the Xue family residence.

The crowd in front of the Jiangzhou Prefectural Confucian Temple was already boiling over.

Jiang Xingzhou and his companions arrived at the gate of Jiangzhou Prefecture Academy in their carriage, only to find the vermilion gate tightly shut. Nearly two thousand students from Jiangzhou Prefecture, encompassing its five counties, stood in a dense, dark mass, their academic robes forming a sea of ​​black.

Some people closed their eyes and recited silently, some clutched the examination question booklet tightly, and some were so nervous that their faces turned pale, their palms unconsciously rubbing the examination box.

In Jiangzhou Prefecture, carriages from various aristocratic families brought their scions to the gates of their mansions.

"Uu~!"

One after another, carriages with red wheels and ornate canopies drove along the bluestone official road, their horses' iron hooves shattering the morning dew.

The curtain of the carriage window was slightly lifted, revealing half of a young face—whether reserved or anxious, both were made exceptionally clear by the sunlight.

Only the top 100 out of 2,000 candidates will be accepted. If a candidate fails, he or she will have to take the exam again after three years.

Three years!

Three more years!
Who has several prime years like that?!

Faced with such a rigorous selection process as the prefectural examination, not a single student could remain calm without feeling anxious.

"Make way! Make way!"

The yamen runners used whips to clear the streets and maintain order, but still, servants from aristocratic families crowded around their young masters and pushed their way forward.

As soon as the carriage of the Duke of Xue's mansion came to a stop, a sharp-eyed yamen runner shouted, "Make way, the carriage of the Duke of Xue's mansion in Jiangzhou has arrived—" cutting a path through the noisy crowd.

The carriage curtain was lifted,
Jiang Xingzhou carried the examination box and stepped down from the stool.

Looking up, one could see hundreds of carriages from various families lined up in front of the academy—some gilded and silver-painted, some carved from nanmu wood, and even a few draped with silk gauze.

Good morning, Brother Jiang!

"Greetings, Brother Jiang!"

As soon as Jiang Xingzhou arrived, many of the prefectural and county students present immediately greeted him.

Just then, the carriage from the Shen family of Jiyang arrived.

Shen Zhiyun, the top scholar in the Jiyang County examination, wore a faded blue cloth robe and a silver-plated examination badge specially bestowed by the Jiyang County School at his waist.

He jumped down from the carriage and spotted Jiang Xingzhou in the crowd.

Brother Jiang!

The clear and bright call drew the attention of many students.

Jiang Xingzhou turned around,
Just then, Shen Zhiyun bowed deeply to the ground and cupped his hands, saying, "Although I know that my talent is inferior to yours, brother, I will do my best to compete for the top spot in the Jiangzhou Prefecture Examination!"

"Chief Shen is joking!"

Jiang Xingzhou laughed and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "You are the top candidate in the preliminary examination of Jiyang County, just like me. Your chances of winning the top spot in the prefectural examination are also extremely high!"

While everyone was talking,
A commotion broke out among the crowd of young scholars, and Zhang Youyi, an old scholar with white hair, squeezed in with several butchers.

(End of this chapter)