His opponent was dumbfounded, not expecting such an extremely obscure question. That was ancient history from who knows when!

But thinking that reign titles, like posthumous names, had fixed meanings for each character, he said it should refer to “diligent in cultivating virtue,” “when superiors and inferiors are diligent in virtue without selfishness, virtue transforms everything, and customs all change.”

Qi You burst into laughter on the spot.

Pointing at his opponent’s nose, he said: “What ‘diligent in cultivating virtue’! Emperor Qinde was commemorating two people—he took one person’s name as a homophone and the first character of another person’s title!”

Everyone: “…”

This clearly wasn’t recorded in official histories—where did he learn such wild gossip and legends?

Qi You was beside himself with joy: “You don’t even know this? You need to read more unofficial books!”

Everyone: “…”

Indeed, how disrespectful of us.

An examiner questioned him for reading without discrimination, inevitably mixing good with bad. Qi You was dismissive: “Unofficial histories might be supplements to official ones. In the vast sea of history, how many romantic legends have been arbitrarily altered by the powerful, buried under historical records because of taboos about the honorable and strong? Naturally, there are dedicated people who quietly collect these and compile them into books. What’s wrong with reading some unofficial histories to understand historical context?”

Someone questioned that since these were unofficial histories of questionable authenticity, how could they be used to test others and judge them wrong? What if your answer was incorrect? What if the Qinde reign title had no special meaning?

This argument gained much support, but Qi You just smiled, looking at the officials on stage: “Whether it’s true or not, a humble commoner like me naturally cannot say, and even if I did, no one would believe me. But among those present are many from distinguished families—surely some have connections to the Lin imperial family of that era. Whether this account is true or false, I don’t know, but don’t the distinguished gentlemen on stage know?”

The distinguished gentlemen on stage continued playing deaf and dumb.

A note was suddenly passed to Rong Pu. He opened it, read it, put it away, and gently joined the conversation.

“Qi You is correct. The Qinde reign title was indeed related to two legendary figures from the Eastern Hall dynasty.”

Sitting below, Tie Ci thought about the Eastern Hall historical records she had seen in the Imperial History Archive—a blood-stained legend where countless romantic figures emerged smiling from the cold moonlight-soaked old papers.

Thus Qi You was judged the winner.

The final pair was Li Yuncheng and a student from Mingquan.

Li Yuncheng had worse luck, drawing a student of similar ranking. His opponent tested him with an extremely difficult numerical word puzzle game, while he tested his opponent with a current affairs policy question full of traps, ultimately being judged the narrow winner.

As he accepted praise from the teachers on stage, Miss Li turned around triumphantly and glared fiercely at Tie Ci, thinking that finally her cousin would have time, just waiting for him to establish his ranking in the martial arts competition to help her get revenge.

On stage, Li Yuncheng thanked the examiners while thinking how fortunate it was that he had followed the Crown Princess to Yannan, even being forced to temporarily manage the southern tour group and govern Huangzhou for a while. This had dramatically improved his practical affairs skills, preventing him from falling into the countless traps in his opponent’s question.

He felt somewhat grateful, thinking that everyone was waiting for the Crown Princess, but she still hadn’t appeared and probably wouldn’t come.

Just as he stepped down, a somewhat familiar woman rushed over, linking arms with him and congratulating him. Li Yuncheng looked for a long time before recognizing her as some distant cousin of his.

After congratulating him briefly, his cousin pointed in a direction, saying a student had repeatedly shown him disrespect and disrespected the Li family, possibly harboring ill intentions.

Li Yuncheng didn’t care about the former, but the latter caught his attention. Now that the Crown Princess was in power and his father was an Eastern Pavilion Grand Secretary, yet they lived very cautiously because they had always belonged to the Xiao family faction. He feared enemy political descendants might be lurking, so he turned to look but only saw a not-too-tall, slender back.

Just then, examiners called the top fifteen to the martial arts field for the final martial competition. Li Yuncheng hastily brushed off this distant relative and followed to the martial arts field.

The original martial arts field had now expanded considerably, encompassing part of the back mountain. Looking at that green shade, Tie Ci remembered what had happened in the back mountain—falling into traps, surrounded by wolves, the first time bringing people through instantaneous movement, Murong Yi sitting in a bird’s nest, and cooperating with Murong Yi to kill his fourth brother.

On this very field, she had also competed in archery with Murong Yi’s fourth brother, who used every trick in the book, and here she had first triggered her restoration ability.

Now on the field, those young men and women, riding horses, wearing riding attire, with agile postures—in a trance, she seemed to see herself, see Murong Yi, Huyin, Danye, Yang Yixiu, You Weixuan, You Weixuan…

Her heart suddenly felt sour.

Did time constantly flow forward, carrying away all close friends and old acquaintances?

Did time also constantly wash away, changing many people’s appearances?

In the end, would they all go their separate ways?

On the field, Rong Pu’s gaze turned away from her. From the fleeting confusion on her face, he saw her melancholy.

He turned his gaze back to the youthful faces before him, slightly excited and eager to try, just like they had been back then.

He announced the rules.

Fifteen targets arranged in a line, each person issued arrows of different colors with the arrowheads removed.

The rules were simple: each target could hold ten arrows. You could shoot at your own target or others’ targets. Your own arrows in your own target counted as one point each, but if others occupied your target, you’d lose two points. Shooting others’ targets counted as two points per arrow. Final count by arrow color, highest wins.

Spectators were cordoned off outside the field with ropes. Hearing this, there was some commotion.

“These rules seem simple but are quite brutal.”

“Yes. Leaving open ground for horses to gallop, allowing shooting at others’ targets means allowing riders to charge into others’ areas to shoot arrows—it’s easy to get hit.”

“Right, Dean Rong said snatching is allowed but one must act within their abilities. Once hit by someone else’s arrow, you’re eliminated.”

“Dean Rong also said there might be pit traps in the galloping area, so you must watch out for both arrows and traps?”

“Yes, this tests horsemanship simultaneously. Everyone’s archery is decent—if you only shoot your own target, it’s hard to determine winners and losers. So this requires excellence in both archery and horsemanship to possibly snatch others’ targets.”

“Also, fast shooters have an advantage—they can grab targets first. Otherwise, once people start moving around the field, it becomes much harder.”

“This is so difficult.”

“What’s difficult about this? Have you heard about the Crown Princess’s mounted archery exam back then? Back and forth, with all kinds of tricks. Finally, when the Crown Princess was at a disadvantage, she turned the tide with several arrows that shot down the field’s boundary ropes, literally bringing the outside arrows into the field—that’s how she won. Compared to that, this is much gentler.”

Tie Ci looked at the field. The students all wore soft armor and the arrowheads were removed—there shouldn’t be any danger.

That previous competition was dangerous because Murong Yi’s fourth brother had muddied the waters. This was just a competition.

Fifteen people entered the field. At the whistle blast, they all drew their bows.

Initially, everyone played by the rules, not daring to rashly approach others’ targets, planning to finish shooting their own arrows first.

But just as everyone was stationary and shooting, having shot only two or three arrows, suddenly a figure charged out on horseback, weaving around the field like wind, rapidly drawing and releasing arrows in a continuous stream. Wherever he passed among the fifteen targets, his yellow arrows struck every single one.

Exclamations arose: “Qi You!”

Qi You paid no attention. After completing one circuit, while his opponents were still dazed, he galloped back to his position like wind. Only then did arrows whistle behind him as he quickly finished shooting at his own target.

Only then did everyone realize he hadn’t waited to finish his own target—after shooting four or five arrows, he began ambushing others’ targets, completing the full circuit before returning to his own.

His move succeeded through surprise and because his arrows were faster than others’.

Qi You raised his bow on the field, laughing: “I dedicate this to that archery teacher from back then.”

Murong Yi had also participated in archery competitions. His greatest characteristic in shooting arrows was speed.

Tie Ci laughed despite herself, thinking this was truly Murong Yi’s genuine admirer.

To turn from worshipping the Crown Princess in an academy full of her influence to admiring Murong Yi instead—Qi You was indeed unconventional.

The students on the field immediately reacted, some speeding up, others directly beginning to snatch targets.

One student charged to Li Yuncheng’s nearby target and with a thud, planted an arrow in Li Yuncheng’s target.

Each target could only hold ten arrows. If someone else occupied a position, you’d have one less spot and lose two points, forcing you to risk snatching others’ targets.

Li Yuncheng raised his bow to shoot at the opponent, but his opponent was quite skilled at horsemanship, flipping and diving under his horse’s belly.

Li Yuncheng smiled coldly.

In the past, he would have been stunned, but since being forced to follow the Crown Princess to Yannan, he was no longer his former self!

Those hands accustomed to holding books smoothly pressed downward.

With a whoosh, an arrow struck hard into the horse’s rump.

The horse neighed and bucked violently, throwing its rider to the ground while galloping wildly out of the martial arts field, breaking through the protective ropes and frightening the crowd into retreat.

The student on the ground, without a horse, could no longer shoot arrows under these conditions and was automatically eliminated.

After a moment of shock, the students on the field had their eyes opened to new possibilities.

So shooting others’ horses could also eliminate people! Eliminating one person meant less interference and one more available target—much easier than painstakingly shooting at targets!

The field immediately became chaotic.

Now they had to avoid not only traps and others’ arrows, but also arrows aimed at their horses.

The difficulty increased.

Soon, with a neigh, one student avoided a pit trap but couldn’t avoid someone else’s arrow. The horse’s eye was wounded and nearly went mad on the field. The safety guards immediately pulled it off the field—another elimination.

After a while, someone risked snatching a target but was hit by several arrows of various colors and went down.

Later, several people realized Qi You posed the greatest threat and somehow reached a tacit agreement to eliminate him first, launching a coordinated attack.

The result: one was led by Qi You under someone else’s target stand, another was tricked by Qi You near a trap.

During this, Qi You turned and shot two arrows seemingly in counterattack, but they missed and fell to the ground, separated by about five feet.

Qi You galloped past, leaning down as if to retrieve the arrows, but somehow didn’t manage it, drawing some mocking laughter.

The students on the field were celebrating that Qi You had actually wasted two arrows and were pursuing him urgently. Suddenly the ground beneath them shifted, the horse stumbled forward, apparently tripping on something, and horse and rider tumbled out in a cloud of dust, scraping far along the ground.

Only then did everyone discover that between the two arrows on the ground, a thin rope had somehow been connected—it looked like Qi You’s belt. His previous galloping and leaning down wasn’t to retrieve arrows but to tie the rope.

What a devious trick.

Without his belt, Qi You’s clothes came loose, exposing half his chest, causing the female spectators outside the field to blush and their eyes to shine.

Teachers from Celu and Mingquan were cursing Qi You for being crafty and lacking proper demeanor.

Tie Ci watched with great satisfaction.

Only her academy with its increasingly free atmosphere, only her Rong Pu, could cultivate such flexible talent and allow him to grow wild.

The court needed rules, but not too many rules.

Fewer and fewer people remained on the field, and fewer arrows and shootable targets remained.

Tie Ci noticed that several seeded contestants were still in. Not to mention Qi You, Fang Huai’an’s mounted archery was actually average, but he was cautious and steady, prioritizing self-preservation. So he shot few arrows initially but kept himself from being eliminated. Now with fewer people and reduced difficulty, several consecutive arrows were quite beautiful, gradually catching up from the bottom in arrow count.

He was a survivor.

Chu Xingbai had a different style—not darting around but methodically shooting his own target first, then ambushing those on either side. After dealing with both sides, he continued expanding his range. This way his riding area remained consistently small, avoiding being targeted by too many people.

As the field gradually emptied, competition became more intense.

Qi You suddenly appeared in front of Chu Xingbai, swaying his body and sliding under his horse’s belly. This made his shooting angle extremely bizarre—hanging under the horse, he shot an arrow at an odd slant.

That direction wasn’t aimed at Chu Xingbai or his horse. Though aimed at a target, it went diagonally and sideways at an angle that made hitting the target impossible.

Moreover, that target was already full of arrows.

Spectators outside made sounds of puzzlement, but Tie Ci knew this person definitely had some trick up his sleeve and sat up straight.

Sure enough, the next moment that arrow whistled past the target densely packed with arrows, creating a crackling commotion wherever it passed.

Countless colorful arrow shafts were severed from the target, breaking in mid-air.

Only bare arrowheads remained on the target.

No longer could colors be distinguished or arrows identified by owner.

“…”

A moment of silence.

Five words slowly drifted through everyone’s mind:

“This is also allowed?”