I proved immortality through the imperial examination.

Chapter 212 Entering the Stele
Seeing that Xue Xiang was listening attentively, Xu Yifan grinned, took another half step closer, and lowered his voice:
“When a person’s thoughts are focused on the Literary Dao Stele, they will fall into an illusion. That illusion is not a void, but a world interwoven with literary energy and sacred intent. There is something floating everywhere there called literary energy clusters.”

"A cluster of literary energy?"

Xue Xiang raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Hmm.” Xu Yifan nodded. “Those things come in all shapes and sizes. Some float like clouds of mist, while others manifest directly as monsters, or ghostly figures of weapons, or beast-like goblins. What’s more troublesome is that some of the spiritual energy clouds can turn into illusions, confusing people’s minds.”

He gestured with his hand, "Attack the manifestation of the literary energy cluster, break it, and you will obtain the flower of the literary vein."

Xue Xiang seemed to understand something and said softly, "I see, it doesn't seem complicated."

Xu Yifan sneered, "If you had said that a moment earlier, I would have definitely criticized you."

But now that you're saying this, I'm all ears.

Who told you to be so powerful?

But don't underestimate Wang Baxian; he definitely has terrifying strength.

I guess he must be worried that a fight with you would result in mutual destruction and affect the viewing of the monument; otherwise, he wouldn't have avoided the battle.

By the way, within the illusion, is a true projection of yourself. Your strength and existence in reality are exactly the same in the illusion.

"Wang Ba might not behave himself in the illusion; you should be careful."

Xue Xiang nodded and was about to speak when suddenly a loud shout shook the surrounding area.

He was a scholar dressed in a blue robe, standing within the star map, his body radiating scholarly aura. He held a writing brush, its strokes as swift as lightning, and looked up to the sky, shouting:

"A man should be born with lofty ambitions; how can he let his heart die in the dust!"

That sound almost shook the entire star map into ripples.

Suddenly, a bright light burst forth above his head, and a blue flower-like shadow bloomed. Then, guided by an invisible holy light, it slowly disappeared into his brow.

His entire aura suddenly changed, as if thunder was hidden in his blood.

Xue Xiang turned his head slightly and looked at Xu Yifan: "What are you doing now?"

A hint of admiration flashed in Xu Yifan's eyes, and then he chuckled softly, "This is what you call 'sentence construction'."

He lowered his voice and explained, "The flower of literary lineage that one obtains from viewing the stele must be recognized by the divine will. One must use true thoughts to forge the words, and integrate one's own will, one's own writing, and one's own soul into the flower. If the divine heart approves, the flower will enter the body, and the literary lineage will be bestowed upon one. If it is not approved, no matter how many flowers of literary lineage one obtains, it will be nothing but a mirage."

As soon as he finished speaking, a violent fluctuation suddenly occurred in the void.

Another Confucian scholar sat cross-legged at the edge of the star chart, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

The sentence he had been pondering so intently suddenly collapsed.

"Snapped"

The three blue flowers on the man's head suddenly collapsed, turning into blue smoke that swirled back into the black patterns on the Wendao Stele.

His body trembled, his expression turned ashen, and in an instant he fell from the void, only to be caught by the array of light and sent back to the plaza.

Xu Yifan sighed and shook his head: "This is the most terrible outcome. If you fail to complete the sentence, all your hard work will be in vain, but the blow to your spirit is continuous."

Many Confucian scholars were devastated afterward, some even abandoning their spiritual practice altogether.

Xue Xiang smiled slightly and asked, "What happens to those who successfully craft verses? Will they be able to write a line or two of poetry or prose from then on?"

Xu Yifan shook his head repeatedly, his expression becoming serious.

"it's not like that."

He said, "There are three levels of sentence context."

What you just saw was merely the first stage—sentence construction.

He pointed to the star map in the void, his voice low and slow: "The art of casting a sentence is to communicate with the will of the sage through one's own will. What is one's own will? It is the sentence that you write down and recite yourself, which contains your will. If it is in harmony with your heart's desire and resonates with the will of the sage, the casting of the sentence will be more steadfast."

Once the sentence is successfully cast, it will stand within the Literary Palace, becoming the initial echo between you and the divine will.

And that one sentence became a projection of the divine will into your literary palace.

As Xu Yifan spoke, his expression deepened, as if he were recalling the past.

He added, “After that, we must nourish the creation of sentences with talent and aspiration. Talent makes the sentences shine, and aspiration makes them come alive. Only in this way can the precious tree of literary spirit be nourished and grow strong.”

Xue Xiang nodded as if he understood.

Xu Yifan continued, "But this is only the beginning. Once the Literary Qi Tree is stable, it can draw upon the power of the Five Origins and refine it into the Literary Vein Flower."

The process of infusing the power of the five elements into the flower is called "melting the verse".

This step is both the most dangerous and the most glorious. If the melting is successful...

At that moment, the Tree of Literary Aura grew stronger once more, its flowers taking root and blossoming brilliantly, its spirit illuminating the body.

With such freedom and spontaneity, the heart's words are formed.

Only then did the power of the Jujing realm truly manifest itself.

Soon, the first round of visualization ended, and the light of the star chart gradually faded.

In the void, the Confucian scholars descended, some with joyful faces and radiant light on their foreheads; others looked dejected and staggered.

Xu Yifan stretched and sighed, "Alas, some people reap the rewards, while others are disappointed. Success and failure are both a matter of fate."

He turned to look at Xue Xiang and smiled, "It's time for me to go in too."

Xue Xiang nodded: "Good luck."

Xu Yifan took another step closer and lowered his voice: "Brother Xue, listen to me. When you are examining the stele later, you don't need to focus solely on attacking those high-level literary energy clusters. Although those things are powerful, they consume a great deal of energy, so it may not be worthwhile."

"How to say?"

Xue asked.

"When different colored air masses explode, they will transform into vein flowers of different colors."

Xu Yifan pointed to the light spots on the star map, "Although low-level cultural flowers are not suitable for use, if you accumulate enough of them, you can combine low with high."

As for the synthesis ratio, you'll understand once you enter and observe carefully.

Xue Xiang nodded and secretly made a mental note of it.

Not long after, as Ni Quanwen announced the start of the second round of visualization, Xu Yifan followed the crowd into the star array.

With a flash of light from the spiritual screen, the third round of viewing the monument officially began.

Above the Star River Temple, three star charts lit up simultaneously, the shadows of the monument surged like waves, and layers of holy light enveloped the entire square.

Ni Quanwen personally ascended the steps and slowly announced.

As soon as the words were spoken, ten people from each of the three camps stepped forward simultaneously.

On Xue Xiang's side was Gu Jianchen.

He glanced back at Xue Xiang, then deliberately stepped aside, clearing the most prominent central position.

Xue Xiang nodded slightly, without refusing.

The group soared into the air and stood in the very center of the giant star map.

Ni Quanwen's gaze swept over the crowd, and he transmitted his voice, "Within the Literary Dao Stele, the sacred intent is vast, and the literary energy clusters are constantly arising and ceasing. Remember, the longer it lasts, the stronger the literary energy clusters become, and the greater their manifested power. If you cannot persevere, do not force yourself. Withdraw in time to save your life."

The group accepted the order, and in the next instant, the light and shadow of the Literary Dao Stele were projected, the star map rotated, and everyone's figures were enveloped within it.

Xue Xiang felt as if the world had suddenly become empty, and all the noise around him had been sucked away.

An overwhelming sense of weightlessness washed over me, as if I had been freed from the constraints of my physical body.

He opened his eyes.

An endless galaxy flows beneath your feet, with billions of stars rising and falling like tides.

His soul seemed to be traveling along a streak of starlight.

The feeling was incredibly strange, like traveling in the vast universe, with each star emitting a subtle, luminous light that permeated his consciousness.

The wind was not there, yet it seemed as if countless streams of light were brushing across the soul.

His soul blossomed in the galaxy, and every wisp of consciousness could feel the breath, pulse, and rhythm of those starlight.

Xue Xiang's consciousness gradually coalesced within the Milky Way.

It was a strange feeling, as if every thought was weaving flesh and blood, and every ray of inspiration was shaping bones and muscles.

The moment he regained his "body", he was no longer standing on a galaxy of stars, but on an endless expanse of land.

The earth was a dark, iron-like gray, crisscrossed with cracks, resembling an ancient meteorite cooled after being scorched by celestial fire. In the distance, mountains rose and fell, their peaks spewing white mist and blue flames, and within the clouds, one could vaguely see a golden crow spreading its wings and a soaring dragon. A fierce wind howled from the valleys, whipping up dust and gravel, filling the world with a primal and desolate atmosphere.

The sky was incredibly high, as if cast from bronze forged in fire. Starlight fell into the clouds, melting into flowing, ethereal energy that shimmered with ancient runic light. With each breath, one could almost smell the desolation of the ancient wilderness and the lingering breath of the gods.

Suddenly, a flash of light appeared on the horizon, and a large mass of literary energy drifted slowly in from afar.

They varied in size, shape, and color, their edges entwined with wisps of literary energy. This energy, like serpentine snakes, meandered and coiled, occasionally rubbing together to send sparks flying, transforming into showers of light that fell to the earth, stirring up a deep rumble. For a moment, the entire world trembled.

Xue Xiang stared intently, his mind stirred slightly, when suddenly he heard the sound of chanting coming from ahead.

However, it was a Confucian scholar who took the initiative first.

The voice was soaring and stirring. Above the sky, the literary energy floating around those clusters of literary energy was immediately drawn to it, and its light trembled wildly.

Xue Xiang's eyes lit up, and he was secretly delighted: it seems that the literary atmosphere here can also be stirred by poetry and prose.

However, in the next instant, something unexpected happened.

The literary energy stirred by the verses suddenly surged violently, like a ferocious beast awakened from its slumber.

Light and shadow burst forth from countless clusters of literary energy, instantly solidifying into form.

Swords, spears, halberds, and axes transformed into a whirlwind, roaring and crashing back at the reciting Confucian scholar.

The scholar's expression changed drastically. He was about to withdraw his attack when he was forced into a desperate situation by the sky full of sword light.

The weapons, formed from the essence of literature, crisscrossed like thousands of meteors, attacking him in an instant.

"This……"

Xue Xiang's brow twitched slightly, and he understood the reason.

These floating wisps of literary energy act as bodyguards for the literary energy cluster.

Before the literary energy cluster "incubates," any unusual movement by those viewing the monument will be attacked by this literary energy.

Xue Xiang stared at a cyan ball of literary energy, not daring to disturb it. Gradually, the ball of literary energy slowly rotated in the air, and the surface luster changed from scattered to round.

Xue Xiang then focused his mind on those cyan literary energy clusters.

In an instant, his thoughts transformed into a wisp of smoke, touching the core of that vortex of literary energy.

Suddenly, the earth shook violently, and a deep roar came from underground.

Stones flew everywhere, flames suddenly erupted, and a strange beast covered in golden scales burst out of the ground.

The beast had the head of a bull and the body of a dragon, with wings on its back, breathing crimson flames, and its four hooves treading on clouds. Its pupils were like stars falling into the sea, and with each breath, it stirred up a sky full of fire.

It is the red-scaled Kui beast, a variant of the Bifang recorded in the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

Legend has it that this beast, when enraged, can burn a thousand miles.

Sure enough, the next moment, it raised its head and roared, and the sky darkened.

Countless blue flames erupted from its body, accompanied by thunderous roars, transforming into fiery serpents that swept across the heavens and earth.

Xue Xiang was greatly alarmed, because what he was thinking about was the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

In an instant, the ground beneath his feet rippled and scatters as the flames shook the ground.

His figure blurred, and he threw a thunderous punch.

That fist was unpretentious, yet it seemed to press the weight of stars into the air.

"boom!"

The azure flames shattered, and the giant Kui beast was forced backward, its joints cracking. It tried to reform, but Xue Xiang caught up and unleashed a second punch.

When that punch landed, the air was almost completely blasted into a vacuum.

The literary energy flowed and scattered, the giant beast was smashed to pieces, and gathered into a cluster of blue literary veins that flowed into his brow.

Xue Xiang showed no joy, secretly shocked by the eerie nature of the literary energy cluster.

He raised his eyes and gazed at the distant starry sky. Countless clusters of spiritual energy were still writhing, flickering uncertainly.

Soon, he locked onto another group of literary talents.

This time, he no longer guided his image, but simply let his mind go blank.

Thoughts faded into stillness, and consciousness vanished into nothingness.

Thinking that I don't want anything, what can you do?

The Qi cluster received his "no thought" and flickered a few times.

The light, which should have been solidified, completely dispersed in an instant.

The azure light transformed into a wisp of smoke, drifting away with the starry river and gentle breeze, disappearing without a trace.

Xue Xiang's heart stirred slightly, and he thought to himself, "Indeed, if the literary energy does not manifest, it will not take form; if the mind is empty, it will perish on its own."

Xue Xiangzheng was secretly pleased with himself.

However, the moment the thought crossed his mind, the ground beneath his feet suddenly collapsed.

It was a sense of emptiness that was deeper than silence.

An invisible "nothingness" arose from his feet, as if the entire world had been sucked away from breathing at that moment.

He felt a chill creep up his spine.

Suddenly, a mouth opened in that "nothingness," shaped like a black hole, with dark, lightless currents swirling around its edges.

It was a gigantic maw that devoured everything, without form or flesh, yet it sent shivers down one's spine.

Xue Xiang quickly took half a step back, his clothes fluttering.

The giant mouth gently closed where he had just stood, the sound was extremely soft, yet it stirred up ripples throughout the world.

Even the distant mountain peaks were drained of their energy and turned to dust.

He felt a chill run down his spine, and the light in his eyes narrowed slightly.

Before the thought could be fully formed, ripples appeared in the void ahead.

A giant sword emerged from the darkness.

The knife had no edge or luster, yet it possessed a pure and extreme sense of severance.

As the blade swept across, a slit was torn in the sky, and starlight poured into the crack, flowing down like blood.

Xue Xiang almost instinctively turned his body, the blade whistling past his shoulder, causing a flurry of spiritual light.

The airflow that was cut was instantly torn apart, splitting in two.

He then understood that "nothingness" was not the absence of anything, but rather the tangible power of "nothingness" itself.

It devours all form and meaning, even literary spirit and spiritual consciousness will be annihilated.

"What a ruthless image."

Xue Xiang's eyes flickered slightly.

He knew that if he were to fight against such "illusory phenomena" with his own strength, he would easily be attacked.

In that case, speed is the only option.

He flipped his right hand, and a beam of light flashed out from his sleeve.

It was a wondrous artifact woven from spiritual energy, its entire body formed from the fusion of literary energy and spiritual iron, inscribed with nine layers of runes, shaped like an ancient scroll, yet also resembling a weapon.

"Divine Weapon - Gatling Gun".

The literary energy exploded in his palm, and the spiritual patterns lit up layer by layer.

In an instant, bullets roared.

"Boom!"

The air vibrated, and streams of light burst forth.

In the void, that mass of "nothingness" was struck by a hail of bullets.

Each bullet carried the vibrations of his thoughts, playing in a continuous, rhythmic cadence reminiscent of ancient Chinese texts, like a thousand troops beating drums.

"When the Way does not exist, words become sharp. When emptiness is not void, writing will break through."

Xue Xiang read it aloud softly, each sentence forming a complete sentence.

The Gatling gun suddenly accelerated, and the bullets converged into a waterfall.

The massive, dark maw twisted violently under the continuous impact of the spiritual energy, its surface churning and cracks spreading.

Immediately afterwards, with a loud "bang," the void collapsed, and countless fragments of light scattered in all directions.

A blue flower of cultural heritage once again merged into the space between the eyebrows.

(End of this chapter)