Chapter 125: The Gentleman's Great Talent

None of the group touched the delicacies laid out before them; instead, they all fixed their gazes upon Gui Yi.

"Since you will not eat, then let us begin." Gui Yi waved a hand, and the gourmet feast vanished.

Above Gui Yi’s head, four indistinct, ethereal shadows emerged. Gradually, these shadows solidified, eventually manifesting as four distinct objects: a zither, a chessboard, a book, and a painting.

Fang Mu watched the phantoms in mid-air, lost in thought.

"In the City of Cangyun, I was a scholar," Gui Yi began. "Today, we shall play a game. You see these four items above? They are the Four Arts—zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—the essential pursuits of any scholar. They shall be the content of our game."

As he spoke, the four objects descended and hovered beside him.

"The game consists of four rounds, one for each discipline," Gui Yi said, pointing to the calligraphy scroll. "We shall begin with calligraphy. If you lose, you die. If you win all four rounds, then I shall die."

When he uttered the word "die," his voice remained eerily calm.

A profound practitioner spoke up, "If this is a contest, there must be a judge. Who is to serve as the arbiter?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the others nodded in agreement.

"You are quite clever," Gui Yi said indifferently. "The rules themselves are the best judge."

The practitioner hesitated. "But..."

"No one may question the rules," Gui Yi interrupted. "Not even I. You have no choice but to proceed."

The practitioner fell silent, for there was no refuting Gui Yi’s logic.

Gui Yi pointed at him. "In that case, we shall start with you. The challenge is calligraphy. You must either write a character that surpasses mine, or possess such extraordinary talent that you create a character recognized by the rules themselves. Original creation is superior to mere imitation."

A sheet of paper appeared before the practitioner, leaving him stunned. Gui Yi picked up a brush and casually wrote the character for "Death," then waited in silence.

The moment the character appeared, a thick, palpable aura of death emanated from it. The practitioner stared at the blank paper, then at the character "Death," his composure crumbling into panic.

Fang Mu observed the scene. Even to a layman like himself, it was clear that the character was written with masterful, chilling skill. The practitioner’s hand began to tremble as he held the brush. There was no one to help him. Beside him, Tie Suanxian shook his head—once the mind is in chaos, the battle is already lost.

"It is merely a single character," Gui Yi remarked. "Time is up. You have lost."

*BOOM!*

A thunderous sound erupted. Before their eyes, the practitioner holding the brush exploded, dissolving into a mist that vanished without a trace.

Gui Yi ignored the display and looked at the next person. "Your turn."

...

Gui Yi proceeded in order, testing them one by one. In the blink of an eye, half of the dozen or so practitioners were gone.

Some managed to pass the trial. With each successful candidate, Gui Yi’s physical form grew slightly more translucent, though the process was agonizingly slow. The survivors felt even heavier burdens, knowing that after calligraphy, there remained the challenges of the zither, chess, and painting.

"Your turn."

After another practitioner dissolved into mist, Gui Yi shifted his gaze to the next person. Fang Mu followed his eyes. It was the masked woman.

She raised her hand and wrote a character—it, too, was "Death."

Gui Yi stared at it for a moment, then nodded. "Pass."

Fang Mu was slightly surprised. He had begun to grasp the situation. The others had written characters reflecting their own areas of expertise, but this masked woman had chosen to meet the challenge head-on with "Death" itself—and she had succeeded.

By now, only three people remained: Zhang Liu, Tie Suanxian, and Fang Mu.

Gui Yi turned to Zhang Liu, but before he could speak, he saw that Zhang Liu had already finished.

"Si" (Department).

Zhang Liu had written the character for "Department." Gui Yi nodded. "Pass."

Fang Mu blinked, stunned. He had expected Zhang Liu to write something else, perhaps "Blade," given that he carried a Yanling saber. He hadn't expected "Si." Could this be his true specialty?

A thought struck Fang Mu, and he patted Zhang Liu on the shoulder. Zhang Liu didn't need to ask to know what Fang Mu was thinking. As the most loyal subordinate of Director Wu, writing the character for "Department" was, indeed, his greatest area of expertise. It might expose his affiliation, but in the current circumstances, he had no choice.

"Although the Ancient Yue Kingdom is closed off, I understand you," Fang Mu said with a sigh. While he didn't know the true identity of this man, Liu Xu, his imagination had already filled in the blanks.

Zhang Liu: "..." He felt he should explain, but realized any explanation would only lead to further misunderstanding.

"Your turn," Gui Yi said, looking at Tie Suanxian.

Tie Suanxian did not hesitate and wrote the character "Calculate."

Gui Yi nodded. "Pass. Your turn."

There were only seven people left in the room: Fang Mu, the masked woman, and three other practitioners. Fang Mu stroked his chin, lost in thought. If asked what he was best at, he had no real answer. Since coming to this world, he had worked as a coroner, and after acquiring the Corpse-Touching Art, he had never practiced calligraphy.

"Time is running out," Gui Yi said, his voice deep and gloomy. If the time limit passed without a character written, it would count as a failure.

Tie Suanxian whispered urgently, "Brother Fang, what is your strongest field? Write something, quickly!"

Fang Mu shook his head. Was it really that simple? The others were practitioners, and their characters contained profound, mysterious power. Fang Mu didn't even know if he was a practitioner himself; he had the levels of one, but lacked their supernatural abilities. He had tried using the Blood-Stained Copper Coins before, but they had been useless. From another perspective, he was a coroner, but was he truly a master of that craft? Would a character representing it have any effect?

Fang Mu pondered for a moment, reviewing everything Gui Yi had said. He arrived at a strategy. Gui Yi had stated that one could either write a character better than his own or create one recognized by the rules. If that was the case, why not create something entirely new? It might be the safer path.

With that, Fang Mu picked up the brush. Everyone looked his way; the final act was always the most compelling.

*It shouldn't be a problem,* Fang Mu thought. *I'll give it a try. Besides, I have the Mirror of Truth and Illusion—I have two lives.*

The brush touched the paper and moved slowly. Gui Yi, who had been standing in the center, suddenly performed a gesture upon seeing the character Fang Mu was writing. He clasped his hands together and bowed to Fang Mu.

"Sir, you possess great talent. In the way of calligraphy, I am not your equal."

When the others passed, Gui Yi had only ever said a cold "Pass." Only when Fang Mu wrote his character did he show such respect.

Tie Suanxian was shocked and leaned in to look. On the white paper, he saw a character he did not recognize...