I proved immortality through the imperial examination.

Chapter 52 Trying the Limits
Village Chief Han remained silent, calmly watching Xue Xiang.

"The legacy of our predecessors has transformed into a miasma of literature, forming a testing ground from which we, the younger generation, extract literary energy, and naturally feel grateful to our predecessors."

Xue Xiang bowed with his hands clasped in greeting.

Village Chief Han said, "Even if you discover my identity, I can't help you."

You must complete this trial yourself.

The literary energy emanating from your sleeves is almost overflowing; all those guys combined don't have as much literary energy as you do.

I've never met an anomaly like you in all my years here.

I believe you can save the military dependents' village; I'll be watching closely.

Xue bowed and said, "Please enlighten me, senior?"

"I have an agreement with the academy. If you ask me to teach you, it would be considered cheating."

Village Chief Han, leaning on his cane, was about to leave when he looked up at the sky and sighed, "When will the sweet rain come to relieve the suffering of my people..."

He sighed softly, his words carrying a lingering meaning.

Xue Xiang released a cloud of black literary energy and said loudly, "Sow a single grain of millet in spring, reap ten thousand grains in autumn. There is no idle land under heaven, yet farmers still starve to death."

boom!
Black spiritual energy surged into the sky, transforming into a storm. The sky suddenly changed color, with lightning flashing and thunder roaring from all directions.

In an instant, the entire sky transformed into an angry face, which was none other than Village Chief Han.

Xue Xiang stared intently at him. Village Chief Han was glaring at him with a face full of resentment, slowly approaching him and saying coldly, "You're courting death!"

Xue Xiangdao said, "Senior Hangu, oh no, you are not really Senior Hangu, at most you are just a wisp of his lingering will that refuses to dissipate and lingers here."

Otherwise, if you truly possessed even a fraction of Senior Han Gu's power, you wouldn't have allowed us to successfully extract the literary energy.

Upon entering the military dependents' village, Xue Xiang began observing Village Chief Han.

Although there was no flaw in his words, Xue Xiang still caught the impatience in his micro-expressions.

This person immediately started talking about drought upon arrival.

In addition, the military dependents' village was indeed experiencing drought, which inadvertently swayed everyone's thinking, including Xue Xiang's.

When Bai Qi manifested the water dragon, it was directly swallowed up by the parched earth.

When Huang Qun and the others failed to extract the literary energy, a smug look appeared in Village Chief Han's eyes.

When Wei Wendao successfully extracted the literary energy, Village Chief Han turned his face away.

Having captured these details, Xue Xiang could not help but focus his attention on Village Chief Han.

He deliberately pointed out that Village Chief Han was the "Old Man of Hangu," and Village Chief Han did not deny it.

He begged Village Chief Han for guidance, but Village Chief Han refused to give him any advice, citing the rules.

Just as he was pretending to leave, he kept reciting "sweet rain," seemingly revealing the question but actually teasing him.

If Xue Xiang thought he had succeeded and tried to steer the literary style towards the "sweet rain" approach, he would inevitably suffer the same fate as Bai Qi.

At this point, Xue Xiang had concluded that the villages, including those inhabited by military dependents, were not lacking in rain, but rather in the lack of cultural heritage and spiritual essence.

One day here is the site of the trial, and villages such as military dependents' villages will experience a day of drought.

His recitation of "Sympathy for the Farmers" was an attempt to test the "cultural lineage and the will of Heaven" of this place.

The poem "Sympathy for the Farmers" caused a thunderous outburst from the local literary community, demonstrating its fury.

But what was revealed in Village Chief Han's eyes was not just anger, but resentment.

Xue Xiang probably guessed that "sympathizing with the farmers" would harm the "cultural lineage and heavenly heart" formed by the local malarial atmosphere.

If the miasma in this area becomes unstable, the village chief Han, who is formed from lingering resentment, will be in danger of losing his life.

No wonder he didn't want to see anyone successfully refine their skills, and no wonder he lured a group of trial participants into the gutter.

Because every time a portion of the literary energy is extracted, the literary miasma here becomes thinner, and the existence of Village Chief Han is reduced by one point.

"Damn brat, you win. Go into the script refining array, and I'll assist you in drawing script energy!"

Village Chief Han roared, so angry he was almost losing his human form. He was like a swaying balloon, swelling up in one spot and bursting in another.

"After I leave, will the villagers here suffer from drought for generations to come?"

"Stop being so overly compassionate. If you leave now, I'll immediately extract your purple spiritual energy. That's my limit!"

Village Chief Han wished he could devour Xue Xiang alive.

Xue Xiang stared at him blankly, then parted her lips slightly, "I want to test my limits!"

As he spoke, he pushed his hands forward, and a cloud of purple spiritual energy rose into the air. Then, he loudly chanted, "

In February, new silk is sold; in May, new grain is sold.

Healing the immediate wound is like tearing out the flesh from one's heart.

I wish the heart of a saint could be transformed into a beacon of light.

"The photo doesn't show the banquet in red robes, but only the house of those fleeing."

boom!
There was a loud bang that shook the earth.

The purple aura instantly transformed into countless candle flames, which quickly spread like wildfire. In an instant, each candle flame turned into a thousand-foot-long crimson flame, soaring straight into the sky.

In an instant, the sky began to shake and distort, then transformed into the angry face of Village Chief Han.

"Damn it, damn it!"

Village Chief Han roared angrily.

Unfortunately, he was just a lingering remnant of his spirit, living in this miasma, and possessed no special abilities.

The flames soared into the sky, burning away the extravagance of the Crimson Robe Banquet.

Amidst the ruins of the escape house, countless phantom images of refugees kneel and weep.

Burning with rage, the furious face of Village Chief Han, formed from the essence of the literary tradition, finally began to crumble into pieces high in the heavens.

Xue Xiang breathed a sigh of relief. Village Chief Han had transformed into a ball of resentment and was rushing towards Xue Xiang.

Xue Xiang drew out a wisp of golden spiritual energy, which transformed into a giant golden sword. He then spun around and slashed violently.

Village Chief Han had no choice but to retreat, then transformed back into human form, glaring at Xue Xiang with a face full of resentment, and cursed, "You think you can destroy the cultural heritage of this place?"

A mantis trying to stop a chariot—overestimating one's own strength.

Not only will you leave empty-handed, but I will also ensure you never have a moment's peace again.

In the future, I will tell any Confucian scholar who enters the trial that if they are willing to cause you trouble after they leave, I will help them.

Just you wait, not only you, but I'll make sure your descendants never sleep peacefully..."

Before Village Chief Han could finish speaking, the crimson sky burned away, and the shattered, angry face reassembled.

The bright sky then turned dark again.

Xue Xiang didn't care about Village Chief Han's harsh words. He closed his eyes, and verses surged in his mind. Suddenly, his heart trembled, and he felt a surge of hot blood about to burst out of his chest.

In his mind, there were no longer any famous quotes or wise sayings, but rather the four lines of poetry by those who had led him astray.

These four lines are as widely circulated as Tang and Song poetry.

Whether he succeeds or fails, he has no regrets.

He suddenly took a deep breath, his aura rising steadily, as if an ancient god or demon had awakened. He pushed the last wisp of dazzling golden literary energy into the heavens and shouted in a voice that shook the universe: "I will not fall into the cycle of reincarnation and enter the vast world; I will pass on the Dao in the human realm."

I wish to wield a single sword to slay countless calamities, transforming the merciless into a world of compassion!

Before the words were finished, the golden aura suddenly exploded, transforming into countless star-like points of light.

A giant golden sword, stretching across the heavens and earth, seemed to have been born from chaos. Its domineering power was as if it traversed the thirty-three heavens, and its dazzling light seemed to cleanse the nine netherworlds!

In an instant, endless sword energy surged forth like an inverted Milky Way, stretching hundreds of feet.

(End of this chapter)