Liu Eleven felt a wave of dizziness, and when his consciousness finally returned, the world around him had completely changed.
Instinctively, he lowered his gaze toward his hands—and sure enough, the broad, calloused palms were gone. In their place were a pair of pale, tender hands, small and delicate like those of a child!
Not only that—his cultivator's robe had vanished as well, replaced by a neat scholar's gown of plain blue cloth. Strangely enough, it fit him perfectly.
A surge of excitement rushed through his chest. Could it be… that what the fat golden man had said was true?
Did this secret realm truly have the power to alter one's bones, to reshape one's very appearance?
If he could "shed his skin" here and emerge as someone entirely new—wouldn't that mean his true body could also sever its ties with the Demonic Sect? Wouldn't that mean he no longer had to fear being hunted down?
The thought burned inside him like a spark catching flame.
But almost immediately, he forced the excitement down. The more miraculous this place seemed, the more cautious he had to be.
Before his true body made any move, he first had to thoroughly explore and understand every corner of this secret realm. Otherwise, rash action would be far riskier than simply remaining hidden inside the sect, treading carefully one step at a time.
As these thoughts churned in his mind, a deep and resonant bell suddenly rang out ahead, tearing through his concentration.
His head snapped up. He looked around in confusion—
What was happening?
This time, he hadn't appeared before a classroom door like Liu Seven. Instead, he was seated upright in a vast and solemn examination hall!
Rows upon rows of desks stretched out before him, each occupied by students in identical blue scholar's robes. Hundreds of them sat rigid and focused, waiting in silence.
On the raised platform, an elderly man with snow-white hair and beard sat serenely with his eyes closed, the same teacher he had glimpsed earlier.
Had the secret realm's trial… changed?
Liu Ten couldn't understand it, but the sound of the opening bell gave him no time to dwell. A sheet of exam paper, still warm with the faint fragrance of ink, materialized on his desk.
All around him, the other students lowered their heads in unison and began reading.
Liu Ten swallowed his unease and forced down his questions. With no choice, he bent over to examine the page.
To be honest, he had only just entered this place and barely understood the rules—yet he was expected to take an exam already? He felt a gnawing uncertainty.
But after glancing at the first few questions, he let out a silent sigh of relief.
The opening problems weren't difficult. They were simply dictations from the Book of Songs.
Most importantly, these passages were all contained in the Qi Refinement chapter of the Rites and Verses Codex.
Even if he didn't remember them clearly, his true body back in the cave could immediately check the text and provide the right answers.
But then, at the very moment his eyes landed on the first question—his surroundings suddenly shifted!
"The axes ring out—ding ding; the birds cry—ying ying…"
The characters on the page leapt to life, transforming into a vivid scene that unfolded before his eyes.
In a deep mountain valley, woodcutters swung their axes with rhythmic force, each strike ringing sharply against tree trunks. Birds, startled from the branches, fluttered upward in flocks, their cries echoing in harmony with the chopping sound.
The birds soared from the shadowy gorge toward the lofty treetops above.
A strange, almost mystical sensation welled up within him—as though the missing half of the verse, which he had never learned, was not foreign knowledge at all, but an innate memory buried within him.
"From the valley below, it rises to the tall tree."
The moment he thought it, the vivid vision dissolved like a receding tide, and he found himself once again seated in the silent examination hall. Around him, the students were still bent diligently over their papers.
Liu Ten blinked in astonishment. He had the answer now, but the phenomenon he had just experienced left him shaken.
He glanced around the hall. Some students wore tortured expressions, scratching their heads in frustration, unable to write a single word. Others, however, had eyes shining with uncanny brilliance, their pens racing across the page as though divinely inspired.
Frowning, Liu Ten began to understand.
So this… was the "talent" the fat golden man had spoken of?
Those who could perceive the living visions of the poems would find the exam effortless, almost like remembering something they'd always known. But those who couldn't? They were left to rely on rote memorization alone—and if their memory failed them, they would write nothing at all.
It seemed that his aptitude for this scholarly path was indeed quite strong.
Even so, he would not be careless enough to rely on instinct alone.
Before he set pen to paper, he quietly had Liu Ming open the Codex in the cave to confirm every word, ensuring he made not a single mistake.
Thus he completed the first several questions without difficulty. But then, as he moved on to the next section, he froze in surprise.
Not because the problems grew harder—but because they became simpler!
Earlier, the questions had required him to supply an entire missing line. Now, the test merely offered a full sentence with one missing word.
"Through wind and rain ___, the rooster crows without cease."
Compared to before, this was laughably easy.
And with the poetic visions unfolding before him, the answers came effortlessly.
Why, then, were the questions growing easier as he progressed?
Confused but undeterred, Liu Ten pressed on, completing the following sections at an even faster pace. But when he turned to the last page, his breath caught.
The remaining questions were multiple-choice!
Several options were already provided—he only had to select the right one!
What was this absurdity?
An uneasy feeling crept into his chest. He lifted his eyes to scan the hall once more, and his pupils narrowed sharply.
Most of the students still looked the same. But a few… had shrunk. Their figures had actually grown younger, as though regressing in age!
A cold thought struck him, and he immediately looked down at his own hands.
Sure enough—the hands that had belonged to a boy of about twelve or thirteen had now shrunk again, small and delicate like those of a seven- or eight-year-old child!
At last, he understood.
The trial wasn't reshaping them into new people through brute force.
It was doing so through this exam!
As the questions became easier, their physical ages decreased.
This was a process of returning to childhood—step by step, stripping away the years, until they regressed to infants who could barely speak.
Only then would they be truly remade, reborn as entirely new beings.