The Little Demon King watched as Shen Yibai ran over, utterly confused, and asked, "What are you and Wei Xinglu up to? Why are you shouting my name?"
Shen Yibai chuckled mischievously and muttered, "Wasted effort. No one knows you. Everyone only recognizes Qin Ye, the top-ranked scholar."
Zong Jincheng: "!!"
This was absolutely impossible!
Over there, Wei Shaoling saw the crowd turning against him and realized his scheme had failed. But he wasn’t worried—after all, the imperial exams were fiercely competitive, and most of these people would fail. Once they entered officialdom, no one would remember him!
So he didn’t bother arguing further. Instead, he squeezed his way out of the crowd, using a folding fan to cover his face.
"Weren’t you just confidently claiming Qin Ye understood everything? Why slink away now? And here I thought you were a great scholar—more like a great hypocrite!"
"Someone with such rotten morals dares to lecture others on writing policy essays about virtue? What a perfect example of saying one thing and doing another. It’s people like him who make the officialdom so corrupt."
"Ah, what can we do? True character takes time to reveal. The exams can screen for talent, but they can’t screen out good and bad people."
After venting their frustrations, the students turned to Zong Jincheng to express their gratitude: "Thank you, young master, for the warning. Otherwise, we would’ve been fooled by that malicious Wei Shaoling this year."
"May we ask your name, young master? The way you debated Wei Shaoling just now was so sharp and logical—you must be highly learned and already hold a degree, right? At least a Childhood Scholar?"
Zong Jincheng had originally planned to pretend to be a Childhood Scholar, but the flattery went to his head. Following Wei Xinglu’s lead in swapping identities, he casually blurted out a name: "This humble one is Zong Wenxiu, a provincial graduate."
"A provincial graduate? You’re already a provincial graduate? Young man, you look barely in your teens! That’s incredible—to pass the provincial exams at such a young age!"
Zong Jincheng proudly lifted his chin. "Of course! I passed the provincial exams after earning the Childhood Scholar title. This year, I’ll take the metropolitan exams and become the top candidate!"
"Impressive, impressive!"
Shen Yibai, displeased, leaned in and asked, "Jincheng, shouldn’t you return the favor and mention my name too?"
Zong Jincheng tilted his head and replied, "I won’t. Dead last—how embarrassing."
Shen Yibai: "!!!"
This was too much!
Shen Yibai, now furious, sweetly asked the crowd, "Hello, brothers! My name is Zong Jincheng. Have you really never heard of me?"
The students looked puzzled. "No… who are you?"
"Zong Jincheng? Also surnamed Zong—are you and Zong Wenxiu brothers?"
Shen Yibai added fuel to the fire: "I’m the second-ranked scholar at Qingbo Academy, the prodigy right below Qin Ye! I also passed the provincial exams as the second-place candidate!"
"Oh… the one below Qin Ye, huh? Well, young man, you’ll have to work harder. The provincial exams are just the local level—everyone only remembers the top candidate. But don’t lose heart. The metropolitan exams get more attention. If you make the list, people might notice you then."
"Exactly! Just focus on the metropolitan exams. Don’t compare yourself to Qin Ye—a freak genius like him comes once in a century. At your age, just passing is an achievement. Don’t push yourself too hard."
Each word of "comfort" stabbed straight into his heart.
The Little Demon King clenched his teeth and growled, "Just you wait and see how I’ll crush Qin Ye!"
With that, he grabbed Shen Yibai and dragged him back to their seats.
Behind them, the students called out encouragingly, "Keep at it, 'Zong Wenxiu'! I have higher hopes for you—you’ll definitely outperform that 'Zong Jincheng' next to you. But don’t aim for Qin Ye—setting your sights too high will only lead to disappointment."
The real Zong Wenxiu, suddenly the center of encouragement: "?"
He didn’t think he could surpass his younger brother, nor had he ever planned to compete with Qin Ye.
"Pfft… hahaha!" Shen Yibai burst into laughter. "Jincheng, did you hear that? They said you can only beat me, not Qin Ye."
The Little Demon King gnashed his teeth. "Shut up, you idiot."
"No, no! You’re the one who called me dead last earlier—I was fiftieth!"
"I’ll fight you!" The Little Demon King lunged, and the two tussled into a heap.
After a while, Shen Yibai, his hair a mess, suddenly shouted, "Mark my words—this year’s top metropolitan candidate will be Zong Jincheng! Zong Jincheng is invincible! Zong Jincheng is the strongest! Zong Jincheng is number one in the world!"
The students glanced at his freshly beaten face, sighed, and went back to discussing policy essay topics.
The Little Demon King: "…" Suddenly, he really wanted to reveal his true identity.
Next time, he wouldn’t pretend to be someone else.
This wasn’t fun at all. Hmph!
Fortunately, after the commotion, the study hall returned to normal. The students weren’t secretive at all—they earnestly debated their policy essay ideas.
"The sages teach us: Sympathy for the weak is kindness, admiration for the strong is sycophancy. But I disagree. Consider this, brothers: If the weak are our oppressors, should we still pity them? If the strong are our loved ones, would we scorn them?"
"Brother Gong makes a fair point. That’s why we must truly understand the sages’ teachings—we can’t take a single phrase and apply it rigidly to all people and situations. Each case must be analyzed individually."
…
The seven young boys listened intently.
Even with "Qin Ye" sitting among them, the students saw them as just a table of kids. Engrossed in their own heated discussions, they didn’t bother approaching Qin Ye.
The study hall was livelier than a teahouse.
They jumped from the classics to policy essay strategies, then to recent political affairs—analyzing the current state of the bureaucracy, sharing stories of high-ranking officials from other provinces, and gossiping about the latest happenings among the capital’s elite.
Finally, someone lowered their voice mysteriously: "Have you heard? The Left Censor-in-Chief of the Court of Censors was caned by the Emperor again yesterday!"
"…"
The boys’ eyes all turned to Wei Xinglu.
The son of the man in question was sitting right there.
The students continued, "They say this is the second time the Left Censor-in-Chief has been punished since taking office. Why does he keep making mistakes?"
Wei Xinglu covered his face with one hand and quietly corrected, "Third time, actually…"
Once every two months, like clockwork.
Each time, a solid fifty strokes.
And yet, his censor father only grew more stubborn and aggressive after each beating, his resolve hardening—rising from the punishment to resume his duties with even greater fervor.
Impeaching this official, denouncing that one.
Purifying the court was his unshakable mission.
Meanwhile, rumors among the common folk had taken this turn: "Who knows? Maybe he’s a bad official. Otherwise, why would he keep getting beaten? The Emperor must be reaching his limit. They say 'once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action'—next time, he might not get off so easy."
