[Dayi = Great Yi]
...
Inside the Tribute Courtyard, restrictions were naturally in place. No magical powers or techniques could be used, and storage treasures could not be accessed. In other words, once you entered, anything stored in your spatial storage was sealed and inaccessible until the examination concluded. Whether you brought items or not made no difference—once you stepped onto the Bridge of Heartproof, you entered with nothing. There was no room for negotiation.
But since they had come to participate in the imperial examinations, very few held any intent to cheat. Almost all arrived with sincerity, truly wishing to contribute to Great Yi and become individuals who could benefit the dynasty and the human race as a whole.
They passed along the Path of Ascension and stepped onto the Bridge of Heartproof.
What was this Bridge of Heartproof? It was a path to verify one's identity and heart. Crossing this bridge meant embarking on a journey of no return, a path to the heavens—a one-way ascent with no turning back.
Zhuge Liang walked down the Path of Ascension and stepped onto the Bridge of Heartproof. An invisible force swept over his body. Any items not already put away were instantly sealed and transferred into his storage space, rendered inaccessible. Only after leaving the Tribute Courtyard could they be retrieved again. This force was irresistible.
Passing through the Bridge of Heartproof brought one to the true examination area of the Tribute Courtyard.
Rows upon rows of examination cubicles appeared before them. These were simple structures, partitioned into independent spaces by walls—three walls and one open side. The open side was covered by a barrier that could only be crossed using the Heavenly Registration Card, verifying the candidate's identity. This system was connected to StarNet, leaving no room for fraud. Cheating or substitute test-taking was impossible and unthinkable here.
The cubicles were modest but not cramped.
Each rectangular space contained a single writing desk, atop which sat the Four Treasures of the Study—brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. The brush was made from the tail hairs of fierce magical wolves. The ink was crafted by fusing high-grade inkstones with ferocious beast blood, imbuing the characters with vigor and spirit. The paper, however, was the true marvel.
This special paper was invented by Li An, using an ancestral papermaking method passed down through generations. He innovated by combining stalks from spiritual grains, leaves from spirit trees, and various fibrous materials, integrating cultivation techniques into the process. After countless experiments, the result was a revolutionary new paper.
White as snow, thin as a cicada's wing, and resilient as silkworm silk, this paper could not be burned by ordinary flames, nor soaked by regular water. Even after thousands of years, it would resist decay and remain pristine. It was hailed as a divine paper, a groundbreaking invention in the field of papermaking.
Every single sheet was worthy of being cherished as an heirloom treasure, an irreplaceable holy artifact of literature.
The first batch of this paper was presented to Yi Tianxing, who admired it immensely and personally named it Heavenly Spirit Paper (Tianling Paper). It contained secret papermaking techniques from the Li family.
Heavenly Spirit Paper also carried a unique scholarly fragrance, said to inspire creativity and bring clarity of mind to anyone who smelled it. Simply being near it would refresh one's thoughts and clear away distractions.
In ancient times, such paper would've been worth a king's ransom. Nobles and scholars alike would have pursued it madly. Now, it was exclusively available within Great Yi. Though the techniques might not be completely secret, the key was in the rare materials—and only under peaceful, stable conditions could such innovation truly flourish.
Had Great Yi not ensured internal peace and the safety of its people, such rediscovery and advancement of ancient crafts would never have happened.
And Heavenly Spirit Paper was only one of many such marvels. According to Li An, this was not even the final form. He was already researching an even more extraordinary material—tentatively named Sage Paper (Shengxian Paper). Once completed, it would surpass even Heavenly Spirit Paper in mystical qualities. For now, it remained in development.
None of this could have happened without the current peace and stability. Without fear for one's safety, true intellectual pursuit could blossom.
Back in the cubicle, the Four Treasures gave off a calming aura. A small incense burner released wisps of Calming Incense, its gentle smoke curling in the air, clearing the mind and dispelling stray thoughts.
Everything within the Tribute Courtyard had been carefully designed to eliminate any distractions. The goal was for candidates to be able to give 100% of their best performance. What Great Yi sought were truly capable individuals, undisturbed by outside factors.
"This is indeed the Great Yi Dynasty. The examination facilities alone are unmatched across the land. The attention to detail clearly reveals the vast difference between this dynasty and others."
Many examinees, upon entering their cubicles, felt an even deeper admiration for Great Yi—and a growing seriousness toward the upcoming examination.
"This is the golden age of Great Yi. Hundreds of thousands of candidates have entered the Tribute Courtyard to take part in this exam. A sight like this has few parallels throughout history. This imperial examination will lay the unshakable foundation of our dynasty."
From atop Azure Cloud Tower, a group of figures stood watching the Tribute Courtyard from above. They could see everything.
Among them were Cai Yong, Huang Chengyan, Wu Yong, and Jia Yucun. The one who spoke was Cai Yong.
Below, patrol captains and constables roamed the courtyard, maintaining order.
Zhuge Liang arrived at an empty cubicle. Holding up his Heavenly Registration Card, he touched the barrier. A path opened, allowing him to step inside.
At the same time, a plaque appeared on the cubicle, displaying the name "Zhuge Liang," confirming the cubicle's occupant. This data was pulled directly from the StarNet-linked card, ensuring absolute accuracy.
No one needed to assign rooms. Candidates simply found an empty cubicle and entered, streamlining the entire process. Before long, hundreds of thousands of examinees had been seated.
Inside, breakfast had been prepared in advance. Each examinee ate in focused silence.
"The Imperial Examination consists of ten subjects. The first is the written examination in the literary category. On the desks before you is the blank Heavenly Spirit Paper. The exam begins now. The topic is: 'Survival.' Compose a policy essay (celun) on this theme. You have one day. When time is up, you will stop writing, whether you are finished or not. The written exam has officially begun."
Cai Yong's voice echoed from Azure Cloud Tower, blanketing the Tribute Courtyard.
Since the exam had only one essay topic, there was no need to distribute test papers. Candidates simply received the blank paper and began once the theme was announced.
"'Survival,' a policy essay..."
Upon hearing the topic, many examinees revealed serious expressions.
It was too broad. So vast that they couldn't immediately pinpoint the angle they wished to approach—or how to contain the scope of their ideas.
Many fell into deep contemplation on the spot.
Survival—what is survival?
To live. The most basic, most direct interpretation. The foundation of all meaning.
But to some, mere survival wasn't truly living. If one couldn't achieve their goals or realize their ideals, then survival was no better than death.
Because the topic held such deep and far-reaching implications, it was hard for anyone to make a quick decision on how to write.
No one dared to be careless.
The ten-subject imperial exam meant that every subject was crucial. For those aiming to be top scorers or champions, this was even more so.
Think, reflect, internalize—then write.
"Think three times before acting" had never been more relevant.
Some examinees, knowing they weren't skilled in writing, simply began quickly. For them, so long as they didn't score zero, it was enough. Their fate would depend on other subjects.
"Survival seems easy on the surface, but it's difficult to craft a striking essay. Without real insight, any essay will lack soul."
Zhuge Liang mused quietly.
"This topic... I need to reflect more."
A dark-skinned scholar murmured, lost in thought.
In every cubicle, candidates could be seen pondering in silence.
"Bojie, how many do you think will shine this round? I see many already writing, but none show literary brilliance. Likely, the early writers won't stand out much."
Huang Chengyan, standing atop Azure Cloud Tower, gazed down at the exam field. From their vantage, they could clearly see which examinees had started writing. But without any flashes of talent or signs of literary aura, it was evident that most early writers lacked true scholarly foundation.
Within the Eternal Continent, literary talent was visible—true brilliance could cause anomalies to appear in the sky itself. When that happened, it would be a hundred flowers blooming, a hundred schools of thought contending.