Chapter Sixty-Six: The Power of Words Is Formed!

As those inside and outside the hall eagerly awaited another surge of literary spirit within, Song Mu, having nearly finished his last essay, became acutely aware of the changes stirring within him.

The whirlpool of mental force in his mind had, unbeknownst to him, come to a halt, while the vortex of literary energy in his body spun with astonishing speed. Perhaps it was the line he had just penned: "How can a stream be so clear? Because there is a source of living water." This verse, drawn from Zhuzi’s “Reflections on Reading,” served as Song Mu’s conclusion—a poetic metaphor urging the diligent pursuit of knowledge, that only by constant study could one’s mind remain clear and reach new heights. It was a famed exhortation to learning, a maxim encouraging the pursuit of wisdom.

That line seemed to be the eye of talent within the whole essay, and in the next moment, waves of creative spirit danced across the page. As the literary energy surged, Song Mu felt the same force whirling rapidly within him, pouring forth at an unimaginable speed, flooding his body and spinning wildly inside.

He endured the sudden fullness and discomfort, focusing on the surging literary energy as he brought his essay to a close. Just as he finished, Song Mu sensed a series of ripples emanating above his head—a clarifying wave, gently sweeping through, bringing a refreshing serenity.

Looking up, he saw the literary star suspended high above the altar quivering, sending out ripples of azure light. Those blue rays seemed to flow toward him—was this the power of the literary star?

Song Mu’s heart trembled, and he suddenly felt the literary energy within him spinning so swiftly it threatened to burst forth. A fiery sensation spread throughout his body. Alarmed, he realized that the literary energy escaping from him was not dissipating into the world, but rather converging with the ambient literary force, gathering into a vortex above his head—growing ever stronger.

Master Xun had once taught Song Mu the process of condensing literary power: when literary energy leaves the body and forms a vortex, it is the herald of true condensation.

Song Mu calmed himself instantly, knowing this was the critical moment to forge literary power. No mistake could be allowed. Bracing himself against the surging energy, he carefully put away his completed essay, sat cross-legged in the examination room, steadied his mind, and slowly attuned himself to the internal ripples of literary energy.

Unbeknownst to Song Mu, his swirling vortex and the unusual phenomena it summoned had stirred a great commotion.

Most shocked were the sentry stationed before Song Mu and the scholars in the adjacent rooms. They all sensed the tremors from the literary star atop the altar, its radiance signaling that another outstanding essay had been written. Yet, in the next instant, they felt a vast surge of literary energy. Though no wind was raised, the waves of creative force crashed invisibly through the hall.

It was the aura of a true master.

They looked about in anxious wonder, and saw that in a nearby examination room, white mist billowed so thickly it obscured the occupant. Glancing up, they witnessed a soaring literary vortex forming above the eaves, slowly rotating.

The soldier, incredulous, rubbed his eyes and stared open-mouthed at the spectacle: surging literary energy, transparent streams of water conjured from thin air, the gigantic vortex, and the waves from the literary star—all seemed to emanate from this tall young man.

Such phenomena he had never seen before; could this youth truly be a prodigy?

He recalled how Song Mu had written so leisurely—was it the confidence of genius?

Swallowing hard, the soldier watched the boy with the sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, cross-legged in meditation, then glanced up at the swirling vortex overhead. Unconsciously, he swallowed once more.

Shaking off his astonishment, he gripped his spear tightly, stepped into the three paces before Song Mu’s room, and stood back-to-back with him, guarding the perimeter.

In the examination hall of the Great Literary Dynasty, when a scholar reached a breakthrough, the soldier was charged with protecting him at all costs. If a scholar’s advancement was hindered through negligence, the soldier would be exiled to the frontier.

Every learned man was a pillar of national strength; a scholar capable of wielding literary power could slay monsters, defend the realm, and safeguard the borders.

Song Mu was wholly immersed in the shifting literary energy within him. Since the literary star began to tremble, the azure light seemed to enter his body, guiding his internal energy to spin ever faster. Now, he could no longer control it; the energy whirled within him, then slowly approached his dantian. His lower abdomen burned—he endured the discomfort, waiting patiently for the energy to pass through.

The transformation from apprentice to scholar depended on the conversion of abundant literary energy into pure literary power—a process that could be lengthy or swift, subject to countless variables.

Song Mu could not tell whether his current state boded well or ill; he knew only that any misstep would be disastrous.

Soon, Song Mu felt the literary energy passing through his dantian begin to change. Guided by the blue light, it advanced slowly; the vast energy compressed and moved orderly through his core. Within his dantian, a stream of white flowed gently—his long-awaited literary power!

Joy flooded Song Mu’s heart; he had not expected the condensation to come so suddenly. He concentrated, aiding the process with all his might.

Meanwhile, others observed the great vortex above his room begin to shrink, its rotation quickening as its size diminished.

On the northern tower, Ouyang Hong, watching intently, gripped the window frame, his expression tense.

The vortex entering the body marked the most crucial stage of a scholar’s condensation; whether Song Mu would become a true scholar depended on this very moment.

Ouyang Hong felt uncharacteristically anxious.

He had come to value Song Mu immensely—not only for his astonishing achievements in Shiyang County, but also for the phenomena now drawn from the literary star. Ouyang Hong sensed he was witnessing the birth of a prodigy.

This young man, once somewhat wooden, seemed to have awakened his talents after his father’s death; the rumors about being struck by lightning were nonsense. The Song family’s literary legacy had endured, their influence profound; even the great scholar’s apparition had praised his descendants.

Was this not proof enough?

Ouyang Hong hoped fervently that Song Mu would inherit his father’s will and his ancestral fortune, restoring the glory of the Song family’s literary line. After all, he was the rightful heir; and Song Mu, as the legitimate successor, was destined to shine.

Everyone now fixed their gaze on the hall; the massive vortex in the sky had vanished, and silence descended—no scholar had yet written another essay to stir the literary star.

But suddenly, a violent surge of literary power erupted, filling Ouyang Hong with delight.

It was done!

Song Mu had finally become a scholar!

Ouyang Hong clenched his teeth, and the surrounding instructors, their faces filled with astonishment, began to discuss animatedly.

“Did you sense it? What level is his literary power?”

“It’s certainly of the second rank.”

“Passing the classics exam and immediately entering the second rank—what a prodigy!”

“This is a blessing for Jizhou!”

The assembled scholars were elated, their eyes filled with envy and awe.

Such talent had not been seen for ages; even in the great provinces famed for their examinations, it was exceedingly rare for someone to stir the literary star five times during the classics exam.

Seated in his chair, Examiner Fan also sensed the shift in the academy, and, feigning calm, stroked his beard.

In all his years at Jizhou, he had never witnessed such a scene. He murmured to himself,

“I wonder, what sort of essay did he write?”

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