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墨書 Inktalez
Three hours was more than enough for him, but which slender figure was obstructing the calm lake of his heart? Although it had only been half a month since he left home, his desire to return at this moment was particularly urgent.
Yang Yichen shook his head and smiled. Why was it that whenever he began to write, a swaying figure always appeared before his eyes?
After expending unimaginable effort, he finally suppressed the fluttering in his heart. The rustling sounds around him continued, and various arguments flashed through Yang Yichen's mind.
He ultimately chose the least favorable topic regarding the current situation of Western Moon and its relationship with Neighboring Country. This required not only an understanding of current affairs but also an analysis of literary style and arguments.
After all, one could never know what the Rulers were thinking, nor could one deny the strategies they employed.
Of course, Yang Yichen had a different perspective on the repeated outbreaks of war. The current Sovereign favored the Crown Prince, yet this prince was as useless as A Dou, maintaining an air of superiority.
"Currently, we should focus on unity and present a united front. We must absolutely conquer our enemies through military might, instilling fear so they do not casually invade our territory. Seeking peace through land concessions or marriage alliances is not a superior strategy; it only leads to temporary peace."
Yang Yichen analyzed his viewpoints in depth. He did not advocate for peace-seeking approaches; only by possessing absolute strength could one look down upon all others.
His writing exuded ambition and confidence, displaying a composed demeanor and resolute spirit.
Once he had established his argument, words flowed from him like a spring. The blank examination paper gradually filled with black ink, revealing grandeur in his prose and calmness in his handwriting.
Three hours passed, and Yang Yichen changed to a new sheet of paper and continued writing.
At that moment, a gurgling sound from his stomach broke his train of thought. Unbeknownst to him, the sun had already begun to set, and sunlight no longer shone directly overhead.
The aroma of food gradually wafted over from nearby. First, everyone had brought fresh meals prepared that morning. After devouring their food, they wiped the grease off their faces and continued to write fervently.
At this time, who could still care about their image? Writing as quickly as possible was the most important thing.
Shaking their heads, deep in thought, biting their pens in frustration—various images contrasted sharply with the refined demeanor they presented outwardly.
Yang Yichen slowly took out a box of food from the backpack, leisurely opening it while recalling another reason that needed to be argued next.
Regarding the topic of the Strategy Essay, it is not enough to use grandiose statements and hollow language repeatedly.
Just like writing proof problems, every argument and every example must revolve around the topic of the Strategy Essay, ensuring that they are well-reasoned and supported by evidence in order to persuade others and resonate with the examiners.
Suddenly, Yang Yichen's gaze fell on a bulging part of the package, and the curve of his lips became more pronounced.
Three hours; one must consume at least eight meals during the exam. If the previous meal was fresh with meat and rice, what about the next two?
This is the most challenging time, as one must not only exert mental effort but also ensure that their body receives adequate nutrition.
The sounds of wailing and cries echoed; occasionally, someone could not withstand the brutal conditions of the exam room and collapsed, being taken away by the examiners.
A middle-aged man in his thirties was dragged out, his eyes filled with despair and a vacant stare that made Yang Yichen's heart tremble slightly.
Perhaps for most people, the greatest test is not the difficulty of the arguments but whether they can endure the torment of sleepless nights. Indeed, some strive to write better essays.
They truly wrack their brains and give their all until late at night. The faint light in the examination room still shines as candidates write furiously, unwilling to close their eyes, determined to put their inspirations on paper.
Otherwise, they might wake up completely forgetting what they wrote yesterday.
One by one, people were carried out; they were originally scholars who devoted themselves to studying ancient texts without focusing on physical training. It was no surprise that they had thin bodies and pale faces.
The examiners patrolled back and forth. Even with strict checks upon entry, there were still some who slipped through the cracks.
To ensure fairness, patrolling examiners must work in pairs to supervise each other. Anyone found engaging in favoritism or cheating would face severe punishment; this was even stricter than the college entrance examinations of the Twenty-First Century.
In the examination hall, a young face still bearing a hint of youth stood out among the crowd, as ink flowed like clouds on paper, his calm demeanor strikingly out of place.
Around the corner, a few bored examiners were secretly discussing, "That boy from Twenty-Six, I think he will pass this time."
"How do you know? We aren't allowed to look at the candidates' papers. What can we tell?"
"That one is the top scorer of the County Examination, only thirteen years old. By next year, he'll be fourteen, making him the youngest in Linyi. There aren't many like him in such a big place as the Provincial Capital."
The examiner who had asked earlier felt somewhat ashamed; how could he not have heard of such a talented youth?
"You really have too much going on at home and don't pay attention to these things."
A colleague's remark left him feeling embarrassed. It was true; there were too many family issues. If it weren't for his three consecutive terms as an examiner, he wouldn't have been selected given his recent mistakes.
Unintentionally or not, every examiner would quietly pass by to catch a glimpse of Linyi's youngest Scholar and his esteemed presence.
Meanwhile, in the capital city
In a dilapidated Great Mansion, a Black-Clad Youth stood by the window, his gaze shifting to the chaotic array of precious flowers and plants in the garden. The mottled red on the door highlighted the desolation.
"Sir, everything is ready." A woman in a Black Combat Suit approached, her cold eyes and curvaceous figure contrasting sharply with her demeanor.
"Mm, where are we in the process?" The black-eyed youth showed no sign of emotion.
His posture remained unchanged by the window as a gentle breeze brought with it a mix of floral scents that were not overpowering but rather pleasant.
"Sir, the Raw Iron has been delivered; it's enough for the weapons we need, and they have already begun forging."
"Alright, keep a close watch. If anything goes wrong..."
"Yes, rest assured, I will not fail in my mission." The woman replied with a firm assurance.
However, her cold gaze revealed a hint of infatuation when she saw the boy's perfectly inverted triangle physique.
This man, almost god-like, was nothing like the incompetent fool the outside world claimed him to be. On the contrary, his talents and strategies were unmatched.
"This is the only time; there will be no next time!"
The icy eight words made the woman kneel with a thud. "I acknowledge my mistake; please punish me."
"There will be no next time!"
The man's words, more precious than gold, felt like a pardon to the woman behind him.
The cold sweat on her back clung to her skin uncomfortably, but she dared not speak again.
She knew she had just crossed his bottom line and would never make the same mistake again.
Cautiously lightening her footsteps, she approached the door, preparing to close it.
Suddenly, he commanded, "Investigate that boy's identity thoroughly and redeem yourself!"
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