Chapter 82: The Dao Fruit Sheds—A Genius for the Ages, Yet the World Delights More in Watching Your Fall

Clear dew flowed in the morning, new leaves unfurled on the parasol trees, and how much longing there was for spring outings. As the sun rose and the mists dispersed, one wondered still if today would be bright and clear. In the late spring dawn, the frost and dew had not yet faded, and a lingering chill crept through the seams of clothing, making one’s spirit jolt awake.

Anle was leaning against the windowsill, reading. The candle had long since burned out, leaving only wisps of residual smoke. Though the Spring Examination was over, Anle still maintained his old habits—after practicing body and mind, he would quietly sit with a book, delving into the thoughts and philosophies of the great scholars within.

The treatise “On Monsters” was especially intriguing. It covered much, not only popular knowledge about the differences between monsters and humans, but also recounted many tales of monsters. Both benevolent and malevolent spirits were depicted. One theme ran through: though people and monsters are different, at times the human heart can be more fearsome than any monster.

Most stories praised virtuous monsters, some even extolling their deeds in aiding humans. Malevolent monsters were described far less, but when they appeared, the language was fierce and indignant—after all, monsters that beguiled hearts, slaughtered innocents, and fed on human organs were indeed hateful and repulsive.

Anle read with great interest. The scholar who wrote “On Monsters,” a certain Ning Chen, was said to have had untold encounters with monsters; much in the text was based on personal experience. As someone who possessed the Monster-Tempered Jade and practiced the ancient Five Beasts Technique, Anle found his fascination with monsters only deepening.

Perhaps it was the impression left by the squirrel spirit lady—she had shown him that not all monsters were savage; some could be as courteous as any person. Some monsters possessed more propriety and kindness than humans, while some people’s hearts were darker than the vilest spirit.

Closing the book and gazing up at the azure sky, Anle felt a broad sense of ease and stepped into the courtyard. Though the exam was over and the results yet to be released, most had begun to relax. Yet Anle maintained his daily routine: tempering his body, refining his spirit, reading—each day reflecting on himself.

He cultivated in calm, hoping that one day he might stand atop the pinnacle of cultivation and behold the world’s finest scenery.

In the courtyard, the old locust tree’s branches had sprouted new green, glistening with spring dew. A gentle breeze set the droplets trembling, shrouding the air in a faint mist. The swords “Green Mountain” and “Ink Pool,” thrust into the old tree, quivered softly in the breeze, their hums like the lingering notes of silk and bamboo.

Despite being pierced by swords, the old locust grew even more vigorous, its leaves even taking on a sharpness. Both “Green Mountain” and “Ink Pool” were extraordinary swords. “Ink Pool,” steeped in the scholarly aura of the exam season, was now a half-step from an artifact of the fifth grade; “Green Mountain,” of higher quality still, was shrouded in the righteous aura—its sword qi more mysterious than ever.

Though their true grade was unknown, they were undeniably remarkable. Bathed in the sword qi of these treasures, the old locust tree suffered but thrived.

In the courtyard, Anle began to practice the “Ancient Five Beasts Canon,” a martial scripture refined by generations of champions, which quietly and steadily improved his physique. The signs of ancient beasts were slowly being etched into his body and temperament. At leisure, he seemed like a refined scholar; once his inner energy was roused, he became as fierce as a primordial fiend—grand and wild.

This contrast often left opponents unprepared.

After practicing the Five Beasts for a while, the monster energy within his Monster-Tempered Jade was completely drained, leaving Anle troubled, unsure how to replenish it. The squirrel spirit lady had vanished without a trace, and the jade could only be refilled in the presence of spirits.

In truth, the effect of the jade on his physique was waning; with his body's strength and the addition of righteous sword qi, the jade was becoming somewhat superfluous. Its effect was inferior to the righteous sword qi, and it was troublesome to constantly replenish.

Pausing his physical training, Anle took up “Green Mountain” and practiced the “Bamboo Branch” and “Fragrant Grass” sword forms—formal techniques that, unlike the ethereal mind-controlled “Sword Qi Approaches,” required actual physical mastery. These, along with “Youthful Wanderer,” made up the three poetic sword arts. Each style held an essence—a killing stroke—whose power was extraordinary, but Anle was still working to comprehend it.

The “Sword Qi Approaches” also required time to master. With the exam just ended and the results pending, Anle was in no hurry. He cultivated, trained, read, contemplated the Swordfall Diagram, and nurtured his righteous sword qi.

With the righteous sword qi protecting him, Anle devoted himself to study—for righteousness was born of learning and upright spirit, and reading nourished it best. As the ancients said, “In books, one finds beauty, gold, and righteousness.”

Boxing, sword practice, reading—these became Anle’s daily essentials.

He had drawn eighteen wisps of Temporal Qi from the Literary Stele, all invested in his [Talent for the Ages] Dao Fruit. At last, it reached a hundred threads—perfection. However, to ascend this Dao Fruit to the next level, Anle needed two streams of Glimmering Temporal Qi—meaning two more Dao Fruits must be consumed.

Of the Dao Fruits he possessed besides [Talent for the Ages], there were [Innate Swordsman], [Collapsing Sword Force], [Selfless], [Fearless Heart], [Monster-Tempered Jade], and [Heroic Inspiration]—six in total.

He would not relinquish [Innate Swordsman], which greatly enhanced his swordsmanship and was intimately linked to his mastery of righteous sword qi and the effects of [Fearless Heart]. These two took precedence over [Selfless], [Collapsing Sword Force], or [Monster-Tempered Jade].

[Heroic Inspiration] was, of course, indispensable—cultivating inner heroism, combined with a fearless heart, gave a swordsman the courage to challenge even immortals.

[Collapsing Sword Force] had high potential, able to be strengthened with Temporal Qi, so Anle was reluctant to part with it.

Thus, only [Selfless] and [Monster-Tempered Jade] remained as candidates for consumption.

Standing beneath the old locust, sword in hand, Anle fell into deep thought. The quality of [Selfless] allowed him to enter a battle trance, forgetting fear and focusing only on the fight—its effect overlapped somewhat with [Fearless Heart].

“So, I’ll give up [Selfless] and [Monster-Tempered Jade]... to advance my innate Dao Fruit.” After much deliberation, Anle made his decision.

Glimmering Temporal Qi was hard to come by. He had finally realized that even after collecting twenty wisps a day for several days, he might not get a single glimmering thread.

But, having decided, he would not waver. With a thought, the light screen appeared, its faint glow shifting imperceptibly.

Exhaling long and slow, Anle, both anxious and resolute, consumed [Selfless] and [Monster-Tempered Jade], strengthening [Talent for the Ages].

A hum resounded—like incense being lit, golden smoke rose and the Monster-Tempered Jade at his waist dissolved into a golden mist.

Two Dao Fruits returned to pure Temporal Qi.

Suddenly, a surge of clarity flooded Anle, coursing from his feet through skin, meridians, bones, core, up to his brow, then bursting from the crown of his head, as though he had become one with heaven and earth.

[The Dao begets One, One begets Two; time flows relentlessly; the Dao Fruit transforms.]
[Talent for the Ages transforms into Genius for the Ages.]

Genius for the Ages!

Anle squinted, heart quivering, but quickly composed himself. He knew innate Dao Fruits were not judged by name alone.

For instance, the original [Talent for the Ages] offered limited benefits before being fully suffused with Temporal Qi; only at full power did its potential reveal itself. The same would be true for [Genius for the Ages]—just after transformation, it was only slightly stronger than [Talent for the Ages] at its peak. To truly attain its power, it would need to be fully suffused as well.

[Temporal Dao Fruit: Genius for the Ages...] Anle looked at the requirements on the light screen and was speechless.

Setting aside the need for a thousand wisps of Temporal Qi, just ten threads of Glimmering Temporal Qi was daunting enough. Temporal Qi could, with effort and time, be gleaned from cultivators, but Glimmering Temporal Qi was rare and, once acquired, hard to sacrifice.

Closing his eyes, Anle stilled his mind. The road of cultivation was long; as long as he pressed on, he would eventually gather all he wished for.

Thus, his current anxiety was unfounded.

With his mind crystal clear, he summoned the Swordfall Diagram. With the immense boost in comprehension from his newly ascended talent, he found many previous obstacles swept aside, understanding blossoming anew.

His memory became phenomenal; even the tiniest details in his mind seemed accessible. Opening his eyes, he reached for Ink Pool. The sword, embedded in the old locust, leapt obediently to his hand.

Placing two fingers on the blade, he delved again into the “Sword Qi Approaches” contained within. Sword energy rang out across the small courtyard.

...

The clanking of chains echoed through Lin’an’s sunless prison, a stench thick enough to make one retch.

Liu Yue, thrown in by officials two days before, had been in a daze since. When the warder set down his meager meal, Liu Yue suddenly came to himself. From some unknown reserve of strength, he rushed to the bars, pressed his head to the gap, and howled, “I’m innocent! I’ve been wronged!”

“I did not cheat! I am a scion of the Liu clan of Huating, I have studied hard since childhood, read all the classics—how could I possibly cheat in the Spring Examination?!” Liu Yue’s cries made the veins stand out on his neck.

From the joy of drinking at the High Pavilion days ago, to the misery of sitting in a cell today—life’s reversals struck him like a hammer blow. He could not simply await his doom; if convicted, even if not executed, his future was finished.

All hope of rising in the world, entering officialdom, petitioning the emperor to reclaim the heartland—would vanish like a dream, as if none of it had ever been.

At that moment, Liu Yue’s heart pounded with terror.

The warder in official garb glanced at him coldly, eyes full of contempt for cheating scholars—a crime most base and despicable.

“What are you yelling for? We arrested you on orders from Minister Qin—not just you, but your accomplices too!”

“That Xu Shun, using the Xu family name, bribed Vice Minister Xu You with a hundred spirit coins and learned the exam questions in advance. As his associate, how could you be innocent?”

“Settle down. If you really did cheat, you won’t have many days left. Eat, save your strength—for your journey to the underworld.” With that, the officer turned and left.

Liu Yue trembled with cold, as if struck by lightning.

Xu Shun... It was true that Xu Shun was distantly related to Vice Minister Xu You; Liu Yue had even visited Xu You with Xu Shun upon arriving in Lin’an.

But at that time, Xu You had not yet been made head examiner; who could have known the Minister of Rites would be dismissed, and Xu You would take his place?

Liu Yue’s mind went numb. He himself had not cheated, but as for Xu Shun, who could say? He was being implicated by Xu Shun’s actions!

“No! I did not cheat—it wasn’t me! I, Liu Yue, am upright and talented, I answered all the questions on my own!” Liu Yue shouted in fury and fear, banging on the cell door. The warder ignored him—nine out of ten prisoners claimed innocence; who would listen?

Yesterday he had sampled Lin’an’s luxury and splendor; today he languished in filth, witnessing the city’s darkness.

Collapsing onto the straw, Liu Yue’s mind was in turmoil, the future bleak and hopeless. He hated Xu Shun with all his heart.

...

Qin Prime Minister’s Residence.

Water flowed beneath winding bridges, the lake was clear, the view expansive. In a pavilion, two men played chess—Qin Qianqiu and Wang Qinhe, both recently the laughingstock of Lin’an.

Shared hardship had only deepened their bond. After being crushed by Anle, Wang Qinhe had been downcast, but soon recovered; unlike Luo Qingchen, his resolve was not easily shattered.

“Why is the mood in your household so tense, Qianqiu? The exam’s over—shouldn’t everyone be relaxed?” Wang Qinhae asked, sensing a change in the atmosphere.

“Is your brother, Qin Hua’an, being challenged by Ye Wenxi?” Qin Hua’an, now ranked third on the Young Saints list, was in a precarious position. With the palace exam approaching, when a new champion would be chosen, Qin Hua’an, Qianqiu’s half-brother, was poised to bring honor to the family—perhaps even earn a conversation with the Sage himself.

Despite his fondness for Qianqiu, their father was now focused on Qin Hua’an.

“Of course not. My brother is talented enough—no need to worry.”

“A few days ago, someone submitted a memorial accusing candidates of cheating. Father was furious, ordered an investigation, and they really did find something—he was so angry he didn’t sleep all night.” Qin Qianqiu replied.

“Cheating in the Spring Exam? No wonder the Prime Minister was furious. As the official in charge, cheating under his watch undermines his authority—such things reach even the throne,” Wang Qinhae exclaimed. Cheating in the civil service exams was no trivial matter, often drawing the emperor’s attention.

“They found a candidate named Xu Shun from Jiankang, a distant relative of Vice Minister Xu You. After visiting him in Lin’an, he somehow got the exam questions. But how did it come to light?” Wang Qinhae wondered.

“Xu Shun was close with a man named Liu Yue, a renowned talent from Huating, skilled in landscape painting and poetry. The two drank at Drunken Dragon Pavilion yesterday, boasting that the top spot on the secondary list was in their grasp, and that they’d rise together in the court. Scholars from the Literary Academy, still vexed after being outdone by Anle, overheard them. In anger, suspecting the pair of cheating, they reported them to my father—who then ordered a thorough investigation and discovered the truth.”

“But Xu Shun bribed not Xu You himself, but the servant who tended his lamps. Still, my father’s anger swept up Xu You as well—he had no choice but to accept his misfortune.”

“What interests me most is... this implicates Anle,” said Qin Qianqiu, setting down his teacup, eyes bright.

“Anle was friendly with Liu Yue—they were often seen together at West Lake. Now, with this cheating scandal, Anle may be drawn in, suspected of misconduct.” Qin Qianqiu smiled.

Wang Qinhae blinked, then rolled his eyes. “Impossible! Anle is a prodigy—his calligraphy and painting are unrivaled in Lin’an. Why would he cheat? Why would he need to?”

Qin Qianqiu gazed steadily at him. “If enough people accuse him, aided by our efforts and the testimony of the Literary Academy’s scholars, then cheating becomes a foregone conclusion—how could he prove his innocence? Yes, he has unmatched talent, but perhaps he craved certainty in passing the palace exam and so cheated. In scholarly affairs, truth and falsehood are often hard to separate—if they wish to accuse, words will not be lacking.”

“No matter how gifted, if a group of scholars claim you cheated, you cannot defend yourself. The exam won’t be held again, and even if you’re cleared, who will care? People love to see greatness fall—let him spend a spell in prison, destroy his reputation, shake his will. The rest is irrelevant.”

“Perhaps even Miss Hua Jie Bing of the Lin family will abandon him, and with his spirit unsettled, we might have another chance. Though I lost to him once, who’s to say I won’t prevail next time?” Qin Qianqiu pressed a chess piece onto the board, pushing it toward Wang Qinhae with a grating sound.

Wang Qinhae looked at the piece, silent.

...

Tai Temple Lane, a small courtyard.

Anle sat upright beneath the old locust, his spirit radiating outward. With Ink Pool on his knees, he was meditating on the sword technique “Sword Qi Approaches” contained within the Little Saint Order.

Suddenly, his eyelids fluttered; he ended his meditation and opened his eyes, brows knit. Rapid footsteps approached from the alley.

A figure soon appeared before him. Anle was taken aback—for it was none other than Huang Xian, the black-clad constable he had not seen in some time.