https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-30-Palm-Power-Duel-and-the-Daoxin-Exam/13686431/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-32-Martial-Energy-and-Physical-Education/13686433/
Chapter 31: The Ling Realm
The Ling Realm. A spirit world conjured into existence by the联合 of the Top Ten Sects.
When the examination officially began, Zhang Yu felt his consciousness being pulled from his physical body, transported into another realm.
A gentle breeze brushed through his hair. A firm, chair-like pressure pressed against his backside.
When Zhang Yu opened his eyes, he found himself in an ordinary classroom.
Dozens of students, roughly his age, sat scattered throughout the room—each hailing from different high schools across the city.
This was the Ling Realm—a mental world distinct from reality.
The Ling Realm was both real and unreal.
Real, because everything experienced within it felt indistinguishable from the real world.
Unreal, because every object, every sensation—what one saw, smelled, touched, or felt—was ultimately illusory. A dream. A phantom. All of it could be manipulated at will.
Zhang Yu realized his physical body still lay on his bed at Songyang High School. Only his consciousness had been summoned here.
Like the others, he was one of the randomly selected students drawn from the vast pool of candidates across Songyang City.
He glanced around. There was no way to tell this place apart from the real world.
“Please don’t let this turn into a full-blown lockdown,” he thought, “like some city-wide high schoolers trapped in a virtual game.”
To him, the Ling Realm resembled a virtual network world—except this time, it wasn’t simulated by ordinary tech. It was crafted through immortal Daoist techniques.
Of course, Zhang Yu knew his understanding was still shallow. His interpretation was likely biased, but for now, it was enough.
Before them stood a thin man wearing an owl mask, standing behind the teacher’s desk.
Li Xingyu scanned the crowd of examinees.
In his own vision, each student’s ID number, name, and high school instantly appeared above their heads.
“Ugh… just want this to end quickly so I can go home.”
As a soul cultivator from Mangshan High School, Li Xingyu had no physical body—only a spirit—and had long grown accustomed to spending his days in the Ling Realm.
Because of his unique nature, he wasn’t taking this Daoxin Exam. Instead, he’d been recruited to supervise.
Thinking about the 45 hours of monitoring duty ahead, he sighed in resignation.
Suddenly, his gaze locked onto Zhang Yu.
“Him?”
He remembered the art exhibition at Li Xuelian’s gallery—the day this security guard had drawn attention, triggering an anomaly in the Celestial Martial Arts Diagram.
“From Songyang High School?”
“Interesting… I’ll record his performance. Might make a good research report for the principal.”
After a quick glance, Li Xingyu stepped forward. With each stride, he split into identical copies. By the time he reached the tenth step, one version of him stood before every single examinee.
This ability—creating multiple manifestations within the Ling Realm—was second nature to soul cultivators like Li Xingyu.
Zhang Yu stared at the masked examiner before him, mind racing.
Willpower was a reflection of one’s Dao Heart. To assess Dao Heart Level, the test primarily measured mental strength.
At the Qi-Condensation stage, this was the core criterion.
But there were countless ways to test willpower. To prevent students from preparing specifically for the test, the exam questions changed every time.
According to Zhang Yu’s knowledge, higher-tier exams involved greater resources, more complex experiences within the Ling Realm—because only intricate, varied trials could accurately reveal a student’s true state.
“This is a Monthly Exam…” Zhang Yu thought. “Based on past experience, it shouldn’t be too complicated.”
At that moment, Li Xingyu extended his hand. Palm open, revealing a device resembling a smartphone.
“Take it.”
As one, all the Li Xingyus spoke in unison:
“Today’s Daoxin Exam is simple… pain.”
“For the next sixty minutes, you can adjust the level of pain you feel at any time.”
“The higher the pain level you endure, and the longer you sustain it, the higher your ranking.”
Rank determined your score. So your result depended not only on your own endurance but also on how others performed.
In the case of Songyang City’s monthly Dao Heart Exam, rankings were based on the entire city’s high school population.
For the real Gaokao, rankings were determined across all candidates in the entire Kunxu Layer.
“Also,” Li Xingyu added, “if the pain exceeds your tolerance and you pass out, your consciousness will be ejected from the Ling Realm immediately. Your score will be zero.”
Having delivered the rules, he pointed upward.
A ten-second countdown appeared in midair.
“Ten seconds until start.”
Zhang Yu looked down at the device in his hand—the pain controller.
On its screen, he saw: Pain Level 0, Pain Level 1, Pain Level 2, Pain Level 3…
Two buttons—up and down—allowed him to scroll through the levels, adjusting his perception of pain at will.
Just looking at it, Zhang Yu already felt pain crawling across his skin.
“Who the hell thought of this?”
“Did they even think this through?”
“Don’t tell me there’s a ‘Fire Level,’ a ‘Chicken-Cutting Level,’ or a ‘Slow Execution Level’?”
“Is this just another version of our city’s own ‘Electric Saw Horror’?”
Zhang Yu hated suffering. Worse than suffering was being forced to endure it against his will.
And ever since arriving in Kunxu and stepping onto the cultivation path, he’d been eating suffering—big, mouthful after mouthful.
Now, he felt nauseous. His resistance had reached its limit.
But then, he paused.
“Wait… I’m a high school cultivator. Studying and taking exams are my duty. The more hardship I endure now, the more rewards I’ll earn later.”
“I love studying. I love exams!”
He gave himself a pep talk. His spirits lifted slightly. The pain controller no longer seemed so hostile.
What was willpower? What was thought? What was Dao Heart?
His Dao Heart class had taught many things—how people throughout history worshipped gods, demons, or mortals, forging different beliefs. Through different ideologies paired with cultivation techniques, one could strengthen the Dao Heart and willpower.
In Zhang Yu’s mind, willpower was simply the ability to endure suffering. The stronger your will, the more pain you could bear.
And thought—what strengthened willpower—was the belief that this suffering had purpose. That it would lead to something better. That mindset allowed him to endure more.
Right now, Zhang Yu was employing these small, self-encouraging thoughts, trying to boost his performance.
Everyone had such thoughts.
But the kind that truly lasted—structured, consistent, deeply rooted—Zhang Yu didn’t possess.
Not even his school’s Dao Heart classes had managed to give him that.
That was something each student had to build on their own—through textbooks, personal experience, and their own cultivation method.
A cultivator’s visible willpower determined their Dao Heart Level.
But their inner thoughts, when combined with cultivation techniques, could elevate that level further, deepening their willpower.
Thought was the core. Willpower the manifestation. Technique the method.
Together, they formed a complete Dao Heart.
Then—
The countdown in the air reached zero.
All around, students began adjusting their controllers.
A cry of agony. A twisted face. A sharp intake of breath.
Zhang Yu turned the pain level to 1.
Instantly, his palm felt as if pierced by a steel needle.
He immediately activated the Basic Mind-Cultivation Method Level 1—taught in his Dao Heart class.
Empty. Void. No self.
This simple technique aimed to stabilize emotions, maintain calm, and guide the mind into meditation.
With consistent practice, Dao Heart Level would rise, and willpower would grow.
This was the same method the original Zhang Yu had learned before arriving in this world.
But ever since, Zhang Yu had focused only on boosting Martial Energy, Physical Strength Level, and mastering Zhou Tian Cai Qi Fa, Jianti Thirty-Six Forms, and San Shou.
He’d never gotten around to upgrading this mind-cultivation method.
Now, as he chanted the technique, his mind gradually quieted. His tolerance for pain increased.
He raised the pain level to 2.
Hiss!
The other hand now felt the same searing needle-prick.
Still bearable.
Zhang Yu continued—level by level.
By the time he reached 37, he felt 37 steel needles piercing through his hands and feet.
His face twisted in agony. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the Basic Mind-Cultivation Method, peace wouldn’t come.
“Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.”
The method worked best when paired with a mindset of patience, quiet endurance, silent perseverance—like water wearing down stone.
That was the standard path to Dao Heart growth.
Only when thought and technique aligned could true progress be made.
But none of that resonated with Zhang Yu.
At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to kill the examiner.
Right here. Right now.
Just as he felt he’d reached his breaking point—
Suddenly, the scripture Tianwu Cultivation of the Heart flashed in his mind.
Fists. Palms. Legs. Spears. Swords.
Images of warriors surged through his consciousness—each radiating the will to shatter armies, the courage to face death a hundred times, the relentless spirit to charge forward without hesitation.
This was what he understood.
This was what he wanted.
Though Zhang Yu hadn’t yet mastered the scripture—his Dao Heart Level was too low—merely recalling its essence sent a surge of power through him.
Like a lowly soldier marching behind a legendary general, seeing the warrior’s awe-inspiring presence, Zhang Yu’s spirit surged. His courage returned.
The agony of the needles—no longer unbearable.
A grim smile curled on his lips.
“When I rise up, I’ll make sure the person who designed this exam begs me to stop.”
(End of Chapter)
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