Inside the hidden academy, the atmosphere was solemn and heavy.
Liu Qi sat upright at her desk, posture straight and composed. She appeared to be listening attentively—and indeed, she was. But part of her awareness was extended outward, vigilant of her surroundings.
Ever since that unlucky Wang Sheng had been expelled from the hall, Liu Qi could clearly feel that several of her "classmates" now breathed with noticeably lighter relief.
Evidently, like Wang Sheng, they were ordinary mortals sent by the Demonic Sect—individuals who could not grasp the lessons at all. Perhaps they had been sent merely to fill seats… or more likely, to serve as expendable pawns.
Yet there were still a few whose expressions remained calm and assured. Those were likely the true "pieces" in whom the Demonic Sect had placed its hopes.
Liu Qi's brows furrowed ever so slightly. She knew she must find a way to surpass them in the upcoming trials. Otherwise, she would be reduced to nothing more than a supporting foil.
Just then, the teacher gently set down the scroll in his hands. His eyes, deep and still as an ancient well, swept across the hall. When he spoke again, his aged yet commanding voice filled the chamber.
"'The Gathering Ears' has concluded. Today, we shall study a new poem."
He paused, as if to give the students a moment to prepare.
"This poem is called 'Peach Blossom.'"
With those words, the teacher closed his eyes, as though summoning his mood. After a brief silence, he began to recite in a resonant, rhythmic tone:
"Peach trees, young and fair, brilliant in their bloom…"
The very moment the first syllable left his lips, Liu Qi felt the air around her tremble.
Golden characters, woven of pure spiritual essence, shimmered into existence above the hall. Each ancient glyph radiated a soft yet solemn glow, slowly spiraling in the air.
What is this…?
Liu Qi unconsciously held her breath, her eyes fixed upon the miraculous words, terrified of missing even the slightest detail.
But the golden script did not linger for long. Like melting snow, it dissolved into glittering motes of light—at which point the classroom itself began to transform.
The plain wooden walls and windows vanished in an instant. In their place stretched a boundless peach grove, vibrant and radiant. Blossoms flared across the branches, petals layered and lush, glowing so vividly red they seemed ready to ignite, drenching the sky and earth in shimmering hues.
A gentle breeze stirred, scattering blossoms through the air, filling it with a faint, intoxicating fragrance.
"The maiden departs to her new home, fit for her household."
As the teacher's voice rang out again, the vision shifted.
From deep within the peach grove emerged a jubilant wedding procession.
Drums thundered, suona horns blared.
A bride in resplendent crimson robes, crowned with phoenix headdress and embroidered veil, was guided step by step into a flower-adorned palanquin. Her face glowed with shy charm, yet her eyes brimmed with happiness and sweetness.
Not far away, a groom clad in festive attire sat proudly astride a tall steed, his gaze alight with eager joy.
Family and friends beamed with smiles, their laughter rising in chorus. The entire scene radiated festivity, harmony, and heartfelt blessings.
Even Liu Qi, immersed in the illusion, felt her heart swell with warmth. Against her will, she was touched by the atmosphere's joy.
And yet, the awareness of her distant avatar warned her—this was but an illusion, conjured by the teacher himself.
She gazed at the unfolding vision, a revelation dawning within her:
This must be the means of cultivation through the Classic of Poetry! With verse as the key, illusion becomes reality, manifesting the very imagery of the poem into the tangible world!
But another question quickly followed.
Cultivation through the Xuanpin Sutra relied upon harvesting vitality. Cultivation through the Blood Feast Sutra relied upon devouring life. Cruel and ruthless as they were, their methods of advancement were at least clear.
Then what of this path through the Classic of Poetry? Upon what did its practitioners rely to elevate their power?
Surely… it could not be as simple as reading poetry to refine one's heart?
As she pondered, the teacher's voice neared its conclusion:
"The maiden departs to her new home, bringing joy to her kin."
With the final line, the wedding vision melted away, giving rise to a serene scene of domestic harmony.
The newlyweds now had children of their own. The husband worked the fields, the wife wove at her loom, while their children laughed and played in the courtyard. Together they lived a simple yet blissful life.
Liu Qi stared at the tableau, but unease prickled at her heart. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
And yet she could not name it. It was as though a thin veil obscured the truth, impossible to pierce.
At last, the illusions faded, the classroom restored.
The teacher slowly opened his eyes, sweeping his gaze once more across the students. Then, in an even, unshaken tone, he said:
"Just now, while reciting, this old man made a mistake in one line. Tell me, who among you has discerned which line was wrong?"
Liu Qi's heart sank.
In her past life, she had only ever heard the opening of 'Peach Blossom': 'Peach trees, young and fair, brilliant in their bloom.' She had never studied the complete text—much less memorized it well enough to catch the teacher's deliberate misstep.
The other students looked equally blank, faces filled with confusion. Clearly, they too were ignorant of the poem.
But Liu Qi was not like them.
Her mind stirred. Far away in her cave-dwelling, Liu Meng grasped the soul-banner and sank her spirit into it, directly questioning the soul of Lin Qingwan:
"Recite to me the complete text of 'Peach Blossom'."
Within the banner's inner world, Lin Qingwan—dressed in the finery of a noble maiden—lifted her vacant gaze. A flicker of awareness returned, and in a flat, emotionless tone, she began to recite:
"Peach trees, young and fair, brilliant in their bloom. The maiden departs, fit for her household.""Peach trees, young and fair, bearing their fruit. The maiden departs, fit for her chambers.""Peach trees, young and fair, leaves thick and lush. The maiden departs, bringing joy to her kin."
Liu Meng listened in silence, secretly astonished.
This soul, Lin Qingwan, truly obeyed without hesitation. Whatever she was asked, she answered instantly—no resistance, no delay.
So it was true. A soul taken into the banner became utterly bound, transformed into the most loyal of servants.
She had read of such things in novels before. But to witness it with her own eyes still defied belief.
Now, however, was no time to dwell on it.
Armed with the complete poem, Liu Qi opened her eyes. Slowly, she rose to her feet.
Under the startled gazes of her peers, she raised her hand.
"Respected Teacher—this student knows."