I proved immortality through the imperial examination.

Chapter 194 A single sword once defeated a million soldiers
With a flick of his spear, a flash of silver light appeared like lightning.

The Flying General, who seemed to have stepped out of the poem, was clattering in his armor, the cold moonlight reflecting off his spear tip, its sharp gleam piercing the void.

The flames on Prince Duan's wheel surged and rolled, seemingly about to scorch the mountains and rivers.

But at the very moment of impact, the sharp spear pierced through the flames and went straight into the heart of the infant's wheel.

boom!
With a deafening tremor, the runes on the entire arena suddenly shone brightly, and the protective array plate nearly shattered.

On the surface of the infant wheel, cracks spread at a speed visible to the naked eye, and in an instant it shattered into pieces, flames burst forth, and turned into a sky full of afterglow.

Prince Duan felt a sweet taste in his throat and suddenly spat out a mouthful of golden blood mist.

Blood exploded in mid-air, soaking his robes completely.

He staggered, his face was deathly pale, and even the nascent soul between his eyebrows almost collapsed.

There was silence.

A moment later, a roar like a landslide and a tsunami suddenly erupted.

"It's shattered! Prince Duan's infant wheel is shattered!"

"Bear King Kong! My demon race's unparalleled hero!"

"Ha ha ha ha--"

A great demon roared to the sky, its arms dripping with blood as it pounded its chest, producing a dull, drum-like sound.

The young demon general, tears streaming down his face, cried out his name with all his might.

Countless demons raised their arms and shouted, causing the runes on the mountaintop to tremble, as if the heavens and earth were being shaken by this fervor.

"Ancestors above! The demon race has finally surpassed the human race in the way of literature!"

"There is a bear-like Vajra! Truly the poetic soul of my demon race!"

The shouts were like a tidal wave, continuous and relentless, each word filled with bloodlust, each sound seemingly tearing through the void.

The human faction, however, felt as if they had fallen into an ice cave.

"How, how is it possible..."

"His Highness Prince Duan... was actually able to have his Nascent Soul shattered by a mere Core Formation demon..."

"This...this is humiliation!"

The scholars were ashen-faced and their throats were dry.

Even Pang Weiyi's fingertips trembled involuntarily.

The Nascent Soul Wheel at the Great Perfection stage is the foundation of a cultivator's entire being.

Even if their cultivation is not completely destroyed, their future cultivation will certainly be affected.

Such an outcome is an unbearable disgrace for their human race.

Prince Duan was in mid-air, his chest heaving violently, his eyes bloodshot.

He stared intently at Xue Xiang, blood trickling from the corner of his lips, but he could no longer utter a single word.

His infant wheel shattered, his crystal body collapsed, and his power plummeted, as if he had been struck down from the clouds to the bottom of a valley.

Xue Xiang stood in the center of the platform, his imposing figure as tall and straight as a mountain. The lingering poetic sentiment transformed into the cool river water and the beautiful, cold moon echoing around him.

His gaze was calm as he coldly observed the scene. He felt that his acting career needed to be further developed, and he shouted: "This battle is not for personal grudges, but to tell the world that my demon race is also a chosen one, a descendant of saints!"

"My demon race, too, can use our literary power to subdue mountains and rivers!"

The shouts echoed, driving the demons into a frenzy.

The blood and energy surged straight to the heavens, and even the starry sky seemed to tremble from the sound.

The human ranks were completely silent.

The scholars were ashen-faced, as if they had witnessed a deity fall from the clouds while a new god was rising proudly.

Pang Weiyi's eyes were as deep as an abyss, and his knuckles clenched the scepter so tightly it creaked.

The defeat of Prince Duan was too devastating, not only in battle but also in the dignity of the human race.

Prince Duan's blood was still dripping in mid-air.

At this moment, even the wind above the chaotic sea of ​​Wenyuan seemed to freeze.

On the arena, the river's waves gradually subsided, the cold moon faded, leaving only the towering buildings standing tall amidst the wind.

Xue Xiang fell silent and stood still, his imposing, demonic body resembling an iron tower.

He raised his head, looked around, his eyes gleaming, and his voice boomed like thunder, shaking the barrier: "Prince Duan has been defeated. The current champion is none other than My Bear Vajra!"

Among the human race, who will challenge the champion?

The silence lasted only a moment after the words were spoken.

Immediately, the human faction reacted as if boiling oil had been poured on water, their emotions running high.

"Too deceiving!"

"A mere Core Formation cultivator, relying on a few lines of poetry, dares to utter such arrogant words!"

"This fiend is merely skilled at accumulating poems and essays; how many can he possibly write? How can the vast literary tradition of humanity be allowed to be monopolized by a single demon!"

Many young Confucian scholars could no longer contain themselves, slamming their fists on the table and rising to their feet, their eyes burning with fighting spirit. Several elderly men in long robes stood up, their faces ashen, all eager to volunteer for battle.

Within the human camp, voices rose and fell in waves. Some requested to fight, others expressed resentment, all crashing like waves.

The demon race camp, however, presents a completely different picture.

A demon threw its head back and laughed loudly: "Come on! Come on! Come on!"

"Hahaha! A dignified human being, so impatient, as if afraid that I, Xiong Jingang, will produce another poem!"

"His few poems and essays are already enough to overwhelm Prince Duan. If he were to write another one, I fear your entire army would be wiped out!"

The constant sneers and mockery, the cacophony of voices, made the human scholars blush with embarrassment.

Xue Xiang shouted loudly, his voice echoing across the mountain peak: "No need to argue. If you want to fight, come up together!"
Even if you lose, it only counts as one round.

The moment those words were spoken, the heavens and earth seemed to shatter.

In just a few dozen words, it was like a heavy hammer slamming into the arena.

"How brave!"

"Crazy man!"

"Do you really think that you can compete with the sages of my human race with just a few lines of poetry?"

"wishful thinking!"

Within the human ranks, rage had ignited into a raging inferno, threatening to shatter the heavens. One man, enraged, laughed: "He's treating all of us humans like fish on a chopping board!"

Pang Weiyi's face was grim, and the tablet in his hand almost shattered again. He shouted coldly, "Arrogant monster!"

Prince Duan still had bloodstains on his chest, staring intently at Xue Xiang, his fists trembling, filled with endless regret.

The demon race camp, on the other hand, erupted in a completely different frenzy.

"Hahaha! So good! So good!"

"This is the true spirit of our demon race! What is Prince Duan compared to this!"

"With his unparalleled courage and soaring spirit, Xiong Jingang is truly a peerless hero!"

Countless demons roared and howled, stomping their feet and pounding their chests. Their blood energy soared to the sky, deafeningly loud.

Tears welled in the eyes of an old demon, who cried out in a trembling voice, "He alone dares to shake a thousand human armies! Such spirit is rarely seen throughout the ages!"

The array on the mountaintop hummed and swayed as if it too was being shaken by the sound waves.

On one side, the human race was filled with righteous indignation and boundless rage; on the other side, the demon race was filled with passionate fervor and boundless fanaticism.

The two camps were in uproar, almost overturning the entire Wen Yuan Chaos Sea.

Xue Xiang stood proudly in the center of the arena, his imposing figure reflecting the firelight, like an unbreakable flagpole waving fiercely amidst the howling wind and thunder.

Pang Weiyi suddenly stood up, gently snapping the broken tablet shut. “Gentlemen, this is a contest between two races, not a struggle for personal fame and gain. Since the rules have been established, there is no need to overthink it. Just follow the rules.”

Since this Xiong Jingang is so arrogant, daring to claim he can take on a whole group of heroes, then let's grant his wish.

Pang Weiyi knew that the group of great Confucian scholars would ultimately be too proud to engage in a literary battle with a demon.

But the current situation has already reached this point.

If we prioritize saving face for individuals, the entire human race will likely lose face.

As soon as he finished speaking, the human camp erupted in cheers, and five people stepped forward simultaneously.

Instantly, cheers resounded throughout the human camp.

Some of the demons, recognizing the gravity of the situation, began announcing the identities of the five individuals, fearing that Xue Xiang on the arena might underestimate his opponent.

"...Fellow Daoist Vajra, listen carefully. The two on the left are Zheng Ru, the Vice Hall Master of the Wenxin Hall, and Liang Su, the Headmaster of the Bailudong Academy. These two have appeared before, and you should know their strength..."

The square-faced man in the middle is Lu Fangzhou, the head of the Martial Arts Hall of Jiannan Prefecture. He is skilled in both literature and martial arts, possessing a robust physique and a commanding presence. He cultivates his health through poetry and proves his Dao through martial arts; he once severed a river with a single poem, earning him the title "Iron-Pen General"...

The man to Lu Fangzhou's left is Cheng Huaisu, the Grand Master of Studies at Nanshan Academy. He rose to fame at a young age, his strategic essays were unparalleled in the Great Zhou Dynasty, and he was known as "whose words determined the course of events and whose sentences could decide the fate of the world."

The last fat man was Zhao Zi'ang, the Assistant Director of the Imperial Academy. He was the youngest, yet already at the mid-Nascent Soul stage, his writing possessing unparalleled sharpness and spirit. The world called him the "Literary Tiger," because his "Proclamation Against the Demons" had slaughtered many of my demon race members, making him utterly hateful…

The five warriors entered the arena side by side, their robes fluttering in the wind, their auras like five mountains lying across the mountain peaks.

Within the human camp, the morale of the Confucian scholars soared, their hearts surging with emotion, all feeling that this was the true essence of humanity.

Knowing the terror of Xiong Jingang, the five people launched their attack as soon as they entered the arena.

Liang Su spoke first, his voice as clear as metal and stone: "White deer drink from the rosy clouds and open the cave, books pile up and the peaks are suppressed!"

With a whoosh, a large amount of literary energy fell from the mountaintop, and a white deer, its body as white as snow, emerged from a branch. Its antlers hung like the sun, and its steps were like lotus blossoms. With the shadows of the surrounding peaks on its back, it pushed off with its front hooves, and a hundred peaks lined up in formation.

Zheng Ru continued, his voice like a surging tide: "The river twists and turns, swallowing iron cavalry; three drumbeats pierce the long wind!" High above, one could see the great river winding around, the waves striking horizontally with drumsticks, the sound of drums and waves merging into one line, the crest of the waves lifting up swords and spears, and a thousand layers of water curtain pressing down.

Lu Fangzhou concluded in a deep voice: "The camp is like a city that moves across the nine fields, the spear wall is like a mountain that locks three layers!"

Iron chariots rose from the ground, spears and halberds stood in rows like a forest, and battle formations rotated, layer upon layer surrounding the arena like an iron barrel.

Cheng Huaisu pointed to the air and his voice entered the Thunder Palace: "The Thunder Altar is spurred by a hundred-foot-long lightning python, and thunderbolts from all directions unite into one bell!"

In an instant, lightning patterns appeared in the sky, and electric snakes fell from the sea of ​​clouds, coiling into a net. Thunderous drums roared, and the sound waves were bone-deep.

Zhao Zi'ang flicked his sleeve, and the words pierced the air: "A proclamation is issued to the three armies to burn the enemy's fortresses, and a monument is erected in all directions to suppress the evil winds!"

The flames of cultural proclamation blazed brightly, their light as bright as day; the forest of steles rose from the earth's ridge, their inscriptions flying and their shadows intertwined, forming a formation on all sides.

The five people recited five poems, and coincidentally, the five poems echoed and complemented each other.

Five images overlapped simultaneously: Deer Town Peaks, River Swallowing Iron Cavalry, City Moving Spear Forest, Thunder Net and Bell, Proclamation Fire Stele Array—like five layers of sky covering the ground, each layer folding towards the center, pressing Xue Xiang's foothold into a well.

The human faction immediately shouted:

"Singing in unison to lock the formation, complementing each other's positions—"

"White deer as the spearhead, river tide as the surface, chariot camp as the skeleton, thunder net as the rope, monument array as the pivot—this combined attack is extremely precise!"

"Let's see how this little demon is defeated!"

The clamor of voices did not disturb Xue Xiang's thoughts in the slightest.

Xue Xiang raised his eyes, his chest heaving, and recited loudly: "When a boy is fifteen or twenty—"

As soon as the seven words landed, the sky seemed to have been smeared with the back of a knife, becoming blindingly bright.

The imagery he creates in his poems and prose is not elaborate: a wisp of smoke, a shadow of iron, a line of camp flags, clean and sharp.

He then added, "He seized the Hu horse on foot."

The sound of hooves rolled in from the northern border. The first nomadic horse galloped out from behind him, its mane kicking up yellow dust. The second, the third...

In an instant, a thousand riders formed a battle formation.

The neighing of horses broke through the drums and horns, and the light on their backs was as cold as a blade, wedging itself into the gap between the white deer formation and the curtain of the river tide.

Liang Su gathered his sleeves and exerted force, and the white deer raised its head and leaped up, its antlers pointing at the sun, intending to shatter the cavalry formation;
Zheng Ru beat the drum urgently, and the waves rose three zhang high, intending to drown the herd of horses with the force of the water.

Both the human and demon factions held their breath, watching this earth-shattering battle unfold.

A multitude of images piled up, awe-inspiring and breathtaking.

The sound of poetry resonated, and in an instant, the void trembled violently.

Then Xue Xiang recited aloud, "Shoot down the white-browed tiger in the mountains, who cares about the yellow-bearded boy from Ye?"

A giant tiger pounced down from the mountain ridge, its white forehead as white as snow, its ferocity unmatched, its roar shattering the rocks.

At the same time, sand and dust swirled up, transforming into hundreds of young soldiers, their temples not yet gray, their beards still yellow, yet each with fiery eyes, wielding spears and halberds, charging forward with fierce cries.

At this moment, the combined attack formation of the five finally began to falter.

"wrong!"

Pang Weiyi frowned, and sweat dripped from his palms.

Everyone looked at him.

"That's not right."

A young man in a white robe murmured, "The images manifested by the five gentlemen, in terms of grandeur and wonder, all surpass the image of the Bear King Kong."

The imagery of the bear-like Vajra manifestation is clearer and brighter.

This situation only indicates that the poems written by Xiong Jingang are of better quality and of a higher grade.

Upon hearing this, everyone gasped in shock.

"Am we going to fail again?"

Someone whispered.

Pang Weiyi said coldly, "No."

Overpowering the few with the many is impossible unless one possesses Xiong Jingang's poetry, which is truly exceptional and capable of taking on five opponents single-handedly.

As soon as he finished speaking, the five humans began to chant again.

Lu Fangzhou’s Iron Chariot City closed inwards, with spear walls like a forest, and the wheels’ tracks made a dragon’s roar as they rolled on the ground.

Cheng Huaisu manipulated the lightning net to descend, and the electric python coiled around his body to strangle the tiger's throat;

As soon as Zhao Ziang's monument array was completed, the proclamation fires formed a curtain, bombarding the yellow-bearded youths one by one.

The five layers of imagery not only surround the imagery created by Xue Xiang, but also envelop Xue Xiang in an impenetrable enclosure.

The demon camp was deathly silent.

They couldn't appreciate the subtlety of the verses, nor could they discern the quality of the imagery.

Judging solely from sensory observation, Xiong Jingang appears to be suppressed, and the situation seems dire.

Surrounded by enemies, Xue Xiang remained calm. He seemed to gather his strength, then exhaled a final, powerful cry: "I've fought across three thousand miles—"

This sentence is like pouring out all the past joys and sorrows.

The cavalry formation stretched out like a long snake, a swarm of iron cavalry traversing from the snowy north to the south of the Yangtze River, from the sandy gravel to the verdant shade. Dust and frost crystallized on the same spear, a long line piercing the throat, passing through the gaps in the iron-clad city, causing the forest of spears to tilt and sway.

The five people in the formation sensed something was wrong and simultaneously quickened their chanting.

The imagery in the scene reappears:

A mountain of books pressed down from behind the white deer;
Zheng Ru spread the river surface to the foot of the sky, the waves forming a curtain like a city;

Lu Fangzhou used the array formation to unleash a fierce attack from three layers of fortifications.

Cheng Huaisu: Thunder roared continuously, and lightning flashed so densely that it formed a curtain wall;

The stele of Zhao Ziang rose high, the proclamation burned like a flag, and it was surrounded from all sides.

The human camp was in disarray.

"Just half a step away from crushing him to death in the crack—"

“Seal his ‘qi’ and hold on.”

"The lesser demon is doomed to defeat."

Xue Xiang gathered his breath, his throat tightened, and he spat out the blade that had been pressing down on him: "—One sword once defeated a million soldiers!"

With that sentence, only a sword remained between heaven and earth.

The sword doesn't grow from sentences, but rather seems to be pulled from the annals of war.

In an instant, countless golden literary energies shook down from the sky, and the long dragon of literary energy that was locked by the two literary Dao Stele rubbings shook off a large amount of literary energy.

The literary quality manifests itself in the verses.

A sword appeared.

The sword's blade was frosty, its edge radiant with sunlight, and its sound was extremely faint, as light as falling paper, yet it could pierce bone more powerfully than thunder.

With a flash of sword light, the white deer's neck turned into snow foam, and the shadows of the mountain peaks melted like paper mountains in flames.
The river broke off from the ridge, the drumbeats were sucked out, and the water curtain turned into countless ice shards.

The Iron Chariot City was split in two by a diagonal line, and the spear wall fell into a desolate iron shadow on the ground.

Each electric wire of the lightning net turned into silent dust on the blade;
The shadows of the monument array were overturned, and the proclamation fire shattered into countless tiny sparks, igniting and extinguishing repeatedly.

"—It's broken!"

The demon clan's seat exploded first, like magma meeting seawater, steaming out a whole cloud of white mist.

"Just this one sentence!"

"He treated the five formations as one army and cleaved them through with a single sword strike!"

A series of hoarse murmurs and screams erupted from the human ranks:
"Retreat!"

"Body care!"

"receive!"

But the sword light had already cut the character "收" (shōu, meaning "to collect") in two.

Each of the five men retreated three steps, but not enough, they were forced back by the recoil.

A straight line was torn in the front of Liang Su's clothes, and blood seeped out along that line;
Zheng Ru's knuckles trembled as he held the pen, and his sleeve was stained with ripples of blood.

Lu Fangzhou's shoulder armor cracked, and a corner of the array diagram broke off due to the backflow.
A deep red line appeared on Cheng Huaisu's lips;
A stream of crimson liquid dripped from Zhao Zi'ang's chin, his face pale.

The array plates above the arena vibrated in unison, as if struck by an invisible giant. With a whoosh, six of the thirteen array plates exploded.

The discussion among the human race members then erupted like a tidal wave:

"How could this be—five arrays locked together, yet all were broken by a single formation?"

"He's using the 'name' of war history!"

"Shut up! He's just a demon, what battle history does he have to offer!"

"But the cultural tradition has answered him—you have to accept it whether you like it or not!"

"One sword to subdue the army!"

"The Bear Vajra - Blade of the Demon Race!"

Amidst the clamor of discussion, the five seriously injured individuals left the stage together.

Xue Xiang did not continue reciting. His breath was still churning. He shouted loudly, his voice not loud, but it was heard clearly by everyone around him: "Among the human race, who will challenge me?"

(End of this chapter)