Chapter Forty-Eight: A Poem That Startles the World

A surge of talent soared skyward, piercing through the clouds. In that instant, the entire Only Me Sect felt its presence; countless disciples glanced up in shock.

"Is that... talent energy?"

"It’s coming from the direction of the Fifth Mountain!"

"Could it be the selection for the Discipline Hall disciples?"

"Indeed, the written examination is underway, but I’ve heard the highest talent energy ever reached is merely ten zhang. Whose talent is this, breaking through the very limits of the formation?"

"I can sense the grandeur and transcendence within that talent energy. The mindset of the one answering must be truly terrifying."

"Could it be that our Only Me Sect has produced yet another peerless prodigy?"

Speculations and exclamations echoed through every corner of the sect.

On the northern shore, within a cave dwelling, Bei Minglie suddenly looked up, his gaze piercing the rocky walls as if he could see the Fifth Mountain from afar. His eyes flashed brightly several times, and a formidable aura began to emanate from him.

After a moment, he sneered. "Though this person’s talent is remarkable, he is not worth fearing. Once I master the Eight-Star Dao Technique ‘Righteousness of the Vastness’ bestowed by Senior Chen, the sect will surely take notice of me. Then, not only Wang Ran but even Ye Cang will be no match for me!"

With this thought, his heart settled and he returned to his cultivation.

Meanwhile, deep within another secluded forest of the sect, the sound of flowing water mingled with the soft slap of waves against rock. Following the sound, one would see a great waterfall thundering through a mountain ravine. Beneath the cascade, a young man sat cross-legged, expressionless, letting the water batter him while his hands formed an embrace as if holding the world, silently cultivating.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and gazed at the sky. "So, talent energy has broken through the limits of the formation. Interesting." His tone remained indifferent; he seemed not at all concerned by this astonishing event.

"Since I forged my foundation through enlightenment, five years have passed. Now my Heaven’s Dao has finally shown promise; the Golden Core is within reach. When the time comes, the position of true disciple will be mine—whether Meng Jiang or Chu Yingxuan, should anyone try to stop me, I’ll strike them down with a single sword!"

Ye Cang rose to his full height, looking skyward, a chilling light gleaming in his eyes.

...

While disciples everywhere reeled from shock, Wang Ran, the central figure, remained unmoved. His gaze was clear and calm as he presented his scroll amidst the elders' astonished whispers.

Elder Huang, his hands trembling as if receiving a priceless treasure, carefully accepted it from Wang Ran. The white-robed elder beside him immediately leaned in, equally curious about this written answer that had shattered the array’s limits.

Disciples all around watched with eager eyes.

What kind of masterpiece had Wang Ran written to cause such a sensation?

Under the gaze of the multitude, Elder Huang began to read Wang Ran’s poem aloud.

"Don’t you see, the waters of the Yellow River come from the sky, surging to the sea, never to return!"

The moment the words left his lips, not only was Elder Huang stunned, but so were all the disciples. What kind of poem was this! To begin with ‘the waters of the Yellow River come from the sky’—such momentum was beyond imagination. The following ‘surging to the sea, never to return’ was even more grand and magnificent, overwhelming listeners with a heroic spirit.

Elder Huang’s heart pounded as he eagerly looked to the next line, wondering how the poem could possibly continue after such a lofty opening. If the second line failed to match, it would end as a work with a tiger’s head but a snake’s tail.

Yet upon reading it, he was completely dumbfounded.

"Don’t you see, before the bright mirror in the high hall, we mourn white hair—morning as black silk, evening as snow!"

After the vast sense of space in the first line, the second masterfully invoked the weight of time; ‘mourn white hair, evening as snow’ spoke volumes of life’s vicissitudes.

The disciples were deeply moved, falling silent as Elder Huang finished the poem. Zhao Xiaobai, well-read and erudite, regarded Wang Ran with ever more astonished eyes. An expert recognizes another at a glance: Wang Ran’s answer to the written test was truly the work of a grandmaster.

But what surprised Zhao Xiaobai even more was Wang Ran’s state of mind. He had already held Wang Ran in high esteem, yet realized now that he had still underestimated him.

This transcendent, detached outlook on life surpassed most prodigies by more than a small margin.

As for the little junior sister, who already idolized Wang Ran, her eyes now sparkled with adoration. In her mind, phrases like ‘the waters of the Yellow River come from the sky’ and ‘may I ever be drunk, never to awaken’ sounded incredibly impressive, even if she didn’t fully understand their meaning.

"Hooray! Senior Brother Wang is both learned and valiant, number one under heaven!" she cheered, leaping with joy.

Wang Ran glanced at his little admirer and smiled faintly, his demeanor growing all the more serene.

A true prodigy should possess unrivaled bearing, transcending the mundane, treating all things with effortless grace.

Retrieving a folding fan from his storage ring, Wang Ran clasped one hand behind his back and gently fanned himself. His gaze was deep and distant, ignoring the crowd as he softly intoned, "Unperturbed by honor or disgrace, I watch the flowers bloom and fall before the courtyard. Indifferent to coming or going, I follow the clouds as they roll and unfurl across the sky."

At his words, the crowd was shaken anew, their admiration for Wang Ran reaching its zenith.

"As expected of Senior Brother Wang."

"After today, Senior Brother Wang will surely rank among the sect’s foremost prodigies!"

"Even Meng Jiang and Chu Yingxuan will have to see him in a new light."

Although some had called Wang Ran the sect’s top prodigy after he forged a ten-star foundation, such talk was dismissed by the inner disciples as mere outer sect gossip.

At that moment, the results of the Discipline Hall’s written examination were announced. Unsurprisingly, Wang Ran was first, followed by Zhao Xiaobai, Yan Wanrou, Tony Mu... The rankings matched those of the martial test.

Wang Ran’s achievement—first in both rankings—spread throughout the sect.

Many disciples heard that before leaving the examination hall, Elder Huang had declared, "This youth’s brilliance exceeds even mine," which only deepened their reverence for Wang Ran.

When at last the hall emptied and all had departed, Wang Ran, standing tall with his hands clasped behind him, finally relaxed. Rubbing his hands together, his eyes gleamed cunningly as he hummed a little tune, "Acting the part of a master really is exhausting. Still, in just this brief time, I’ve gained quite a lot of Dao points. Clearly, I must keep up this act—do it more and do it well! Then I’ll soon fulfill my dream of becoming the king of pretenders—no, a supreme figure among men, a sage among immortals!"

Counting up his gains from his trip to the Discipline Hall, Wang Ran felt utterly content. Mounting his sword, he became a streak of rainbow light and, in the blink of an eye, soared from the examination hall.