About an hour later, he finished reading the first chapter of the Erosion Text, which comprised about three thousand words. The surging energy within his body suddenly paused and naturally returned to his Dantian, signaling the completion of a cycle. If he were to continue, it would mark the start of another cycle. Even at this point, Zhang Yan still felt unsatisfied.
He then remembered Zhang Zhen, his opponent, and lifted his eyes to look. What he saw surprised him—Zhang Zhen's face was as pale as paper, his breathing was rapid, and his broad and stocky body was trembling uncontrollably. The bamboo divination rod in his hand was slipping and looked as though it could fall at any moment. Clearly, he was deeply caught in the challenge, unable to extricate himself.
However, what astonished Zhang Yan was that despite being on the verge of collapse, this stout young cultivator somehow managed to endure and push through the first round without truly falling down.
Zhang Zhen stood up, panting heavily. He raised his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead, intending to exchange the explanation of the Erosion Text with Zhang Yan. But upon inspecting his work, he found the earlier portion had been soaked completely by his own sweat, smearing and blurring the characters. Embarrassment flashed across his face.
Zhang Yan didn't mind at all. Smiling, he reached out to take Zhang Zhen's soaked explanation and handed over his own.
Examining Zhang Yan's work, Zhang Zhen realized that the effortless composure written between the lines and Zhang Yan's profound comprehension of the Star Tablet far outmatched him. The outcome was already crystal clear. Moreover, he was utterly astonished that Zhang Yan could decipher the Erosion Text without relying on a bamboo divination rod—a feat that left him sincerely convinced of his defeat. With great admiration, he ceremoniously bowed and said, "Senior Brother Zhang, your talents are vast; I am deeply ashamed of my inadequacy."
After speaking, Zhang Zhen felt he no longer had the face to remain on the stage. Staggering off in a daze, he stumbled in his last few steps and almost fell. Qi Xuan quickly rushed forward to catch him and said, "Be careful, Senior Brother!"
Zhang Zhen steadied himself with effort and, lifting his head, saw Wen Jun and Shen Jingyue gazing at him with expressions of concern. He apologized with a sense of guilt, "Senior Brothers, I've failed in what you entrusted me to do. I am utterly ashamed."
Wen Jun consoled him, "Junior Brother, you've committed no fault. Focus on recovery. Let me try my hand against Zhang Yan in the next round to see how capable he truly is."
Shen Jingyue was startled upon hearing this. This wasn't the plan they had discussed earlier. Just as he was about to speak, Wen Jun interrupted him: "Junior Brother, Zhang Yan was supposed to exhaust his mental focus and energy during this round, but I see that he remains composed and brimming with vitality. It's obvious he has plenty of strength to spare. If you were to face him now, you might not be his match. Let me take this round first, and you can step in later if necessary."
Shen Jingyue wanted to protest further, but Wen Jun's expression darkened, and he said firmly, "My decision is final. It's settled!" He gestured to Qi Xuan, who promptly stepped forward and intercepted Shen Jingyue.
Shen Jingyue had never seen Wen Jun use his Senior Disciple status to pressure him before. Unable to devise a countermeasure, he could only watch in frustration as Wen Jun ascended the stage. However, a hint of resolve gradually emerged in Shen Jingyue's gaze.
"Junior Brother Zhang, I, Wen Jun of Guangyuan, salute you."
Wen Jun, who had long entered the path of Xuanmen, donned a mysterious Daoist robe of deep hue. A Wuliang Crown adorned his head, and elevated footwear covered his feet. His posture was upright, his long beard fluttering elegantly, emanating the dignified aura of a Senior Disciple of the Lower Institute.
Zhang Yan respectfully returned the greeting and said, "Please!"
The second chapter of the Star Tablet was far more challenging than the first. While Wen Jun's accomplishments in deciphering the Erosion Text didn't even reach Zhang Zhen's level, Wen Jun had already attained the 'Yuan Cheng Ruzhen' realm, though he had not yet surpassed the stage of Opening Meridians. His Primordial Qi was rich and polished, unaffected by the movements of his internal Qi mechanism. Even if his inner Qi moved erratically, he could suppress it through his profound cultivation, allowing the flow to remain steady and composed. This alone made him much more reliable than Zhang Zhen.
Such techniques were commonly employed by disciples when interpreting the Erosion Text. Though this method didn't expedite their deciphering process, it prevented their Qi from escaping its control prematurely. Despite being more taxing on their strength and yielding little long-term benefit, it was nevertheless an effective strategy in competitive matches.
Thus, when competing to decipher the Star Tablet, if both opponents had similar insights into the Erosion Text, the deciding factor would be their cultivation prowess. This is why many disciples doubted Zhang Yan earlier. However, he possessed a Divine Artifact, which couldn't be judged according to conventional standards.
Since Wen Jun began the process, his performance was calm and composed, exuding the temperament of a Senior Disciple. He worked methodically with no signs of haste.
Zhang Yan, meanwhile, paid him no attention and continued to write. The disciples from various sects watching from below had already noticed that Zhang Yan required no bamboo divination rod to aid him, and seeing him at work now elicited another wave of astonished whispers. When Zhang Yan penned his interpretation, his hand flowed seamlessly, displaying remarkable control—swift movements meshed harmoniously with slower, refined strokes. His appearance was peerless, and his demeanor brought an unusual sense of ease to those who observed him, earning him incessant praise.
However, more disciples were focusing on Wen Jun, wondering whether the Senior Disciple of the Guangyuan Sect Lower Institute would prevail in this round against Zhang Yan.
Unbeknownst to the crowd, their perception of Zhang Yan had shifted drastically. No longer did they dismiss him for being a mere registered disciple. Instead, they placed him firmly in a position of strength.
Another hour swept by. By then, Wen Jun's forehead glistened faintly with sweat, but he remained far superior to Zhang Zhen. Sitting upright with perfect composure, his hand gripping the brush didn't tremble, and he successfully deciphered the second chapter.
Aware that his endurance was nearing its limit, Wen Jun refrained from recklessly pressing forward. He sighed softly and set his brush aside.
When he raised his head, Wen Jun noticed that Zhang Yan had long finished his interpretation—his paper's ink had dried well before. Shaking his head, Wen Jun stood and said, "Junior Brother Zhang has won this round."
The exemplary grace and poise displayed by the Guangyuan Lower Institute Senior Disciple earned Zhang Yan's deep respect. Zhang Yan solemnly cupped his hands and respectfully watched Wen Jun descend from the stage.
The outcome was entirely opposite to what the disciples of various sects had initially anticipated. Zhang Yan wasn't the arrogant novice who underestimated his abilities and faced humiliating defeat. Instead, he had easily claimed victory in two consecutive rounds, sending the prominent disciples of Guangyuan retreating with cheerful magnanimity, leaving behind a sea of wonder and speculation.
Below the stage, Shen Jingyue's expression turned grave as he thought, "It seems I underestimated this man earlier."
With that realization came another pang of regret. If Zhang Yan possessed such abilities, it was no wonder he refused to join the Guangyuan Sect. But alongside his regret sprouted another suspicion—could the information from Madam Lin be inaccurate? Perhaps Zhang Yan, although officially listed as a registered disciple, was secretly a direct lineage disciple of the Mingcang Sect Lower Institute, nurtured in secrecy?