Heaven, Earth, and Man

Night had fallen over the small valley, and all was utterly silent. The occasional cry of a bird or the chirping of insects only served to accentuate the profound stillness. Jiang Feng still slept up in the tree, but suddenly, his ears twitched and he glanced around warily.

He swung down from the tree and made a circuit of the area, finding nothing amiss. Still, he did not relax. Instead, he stepped out from the shade and seated himself atop a large boulder in the valley. This was the best vantage point in the area; from here, anyone approaching from any direction would be caught in his gaze.

Somewhere in the darkness, a nearly inaudible click of the tongue sounded. Moments later, a hazy gray shadow slipped through every patch of darkness—across stones, beneath trees, through clumps of grass. Nearly transparent, it was all but invisible in the night, and even up close it would have been difficult to spot.

Yet Jiang Feng seemed to sense something, as he stared for a long while at a certain patch of grass before finally, with caution, moving his gaze away.

The gray shadow slid into the treehouse and, in a dim corner, shed itself like a discarded skin—it was a cloak.

Beneath the gray cloak appeared a man, tall and imposing, with a mane of white hair and beard—the very same old man who had come previously to see Chong Fan. He glanced out, then looked down at the “bed” on the floor. At this, his expression changed, and he gently shook Chong Fan awake, his voice a thin, urgent thread that slipped straight into the boy’s ear: “Young master, young master, wake up!”

Chong Fan sat up at once, his eyes clear and alert, utterly without sleepiness. He frowned, lips moving silently, asking, “Didn’t I say I would be staying here for a while?”

The old man, anxious, replied, “Young master, how can you sleep in a place like this?”

Chong Fan shook his head. “Speak of what matters.”

This old man had watched him grow up and knew his temperament well. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “I sent someone to look into that young man… Rest assured, I did not reveal your whereabouts.”

A flicker of displeasure passed through Chong Fan’s eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. This was simply the way people like them conducted themselves; the old man acted out of concern, and it would not do to blame him.

He mouthed silently, “The boy bears me no ill will. I don’t wish to know anything more.”

The old man was silent for a moment, then said, “Young master, I know you wish to make a friend, but he… Well, it is not about him, but rather your own body!”

My body?

Chong Fan lowered his gaze and fell into deep thought. He gave no instructions, and so the old man dared not speak further.

At length, Chong Fan shook his head. “There’s no need to tell me.”

He looked up, his eyes bright and clear. “If ever I wish to know, I will ask you. But… not now.”

Perhaps this was the customary way for people like them, but at least for now, Chong Fan did not wish to proceed in that fashion. He had no desire to pry into Jiang Feng’s secrets, even if those secrets were somehow tied to his own body, to his strange illness.

Perhaps it was the nameless valley, or the carnivorous rabbit, or the sight of the youth sweating in the sun, his expression at times brooding, at times bright…

Yet most of all, it was his own body, which seemed to be changing in some subtle way.

…

The next morning, after completing his morning exercises, Jiang Feng did not head into the mountains to hunt as usual.

He frowned as he looked at Chong Fan’s clothes, then shook his head. “Your clothes are in tatters—and covered in blood. You can’t go out like that…”

Chong Fan glanced down at himself, his face showing a hint of embarrassment. He had always been fastidious, sometimes changing outfits three times a day. When had he ever worn a bloodstained garment for three days straight?

For the first time since coming here, he considered reaching out to the old man to have some necessities sent over…

Jiang Feng rummaged through his own meager collection of clothes and tossed a set to Chong Fan. “Wear these.”

Chong Fan changed and was surprised to find that, though he was a full head shorter and much slighter than Jiang Feng, the clothes fit him well, without appearing oversized. What’s more, the fabric was fine gray silk, far superior to the coarse linen Jiang Feng wore himself.

Jiang Feng looked at the clothes with a touch of nostalgia. “These were a gift. I never threw them out, and it turns out they’re just right for you.”

A shadow passed through his eyes, and he turned away. “Come on, the Half-Moon Market opens at the hour of Chen. We should get there early.”

Chong Fan brushed his sleeves and looked at Jiang Feng’s back. Was this, too, connected to that most important young lady in his life?

The Half-Moon Market was located southwest of Luming Town, beside the Longchuan River.

By the time Jiang Feng and Chong Fan arrived, daylight had fully broken, and sunlight sparkled on the river in golden shards. Countless stalls were already set up along both banks, extending with the flow of the water.

Jiang Feng dropped his heavy load with a thump and took off the basket from his back.

Chong Fan, his face flushed red, crawled out of the basket, nearly speechless. The path from the valley was nothing but rugged mountain trails; “not far from Luming Town” only applied to people like Jiang Feng.

Chong Fan, who had never been allowed much freedom of movement since childhood, was frail in the extreme—how could he possibly walk all that way on his own? After only a short time, he was gasping for breath, nearly ready to expire.

Jiang Feng shook his head. “You really should exercise more. Being lazy isn’t good for you.”

I’m not lazy! I’m ill!

Chong Fan’s face went hot at the words, and he nearly blurted out a retort. But to say such a thing would only make him sound even weaker. He was at a loss for words as Jiang Feng emptied the basket. Sensing what was coming, Chong Fan was about to protest, but Jiang Feng lifted him and set him inside the basket before he could react.

The thought of being carried to town like this made Chong Fan restless with embarrassment. He tried to struggle, but Jiang Feng cut him off: “What, would you rather I carry you on my back directly?”

Which was more humiliating, sitting in a basket or being carried piggyback?

Before Chong Fan could decide, Jiang Feng had already hoisted the basket and started down the road.

As they walked, Jiang Feng said, “Since you’re idle anyway, tell me about the Imperial Exam. Last time you mentioned three tests—Heaven, Earth, and Man. What do they actually test?”

Chong Fan, distracted by the question, explained, “The Martial Examination in the Nine Provinces is held at the prefecture, state, and county levels—you know that much, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

Chong Fan continued, “The format of the exam is the same at each level, although the difficulty increases step by step. The three sections are Heaven, Earth, and Man.”

“The Heaven Test measures innate talent. Martial cultivation begins at the Seed of Clarity, but after advancing to the Realm of Dawn, everything—strength, speed, all of it—can be quantified. The Heaven Test assesses these metrics.”

“The Earth Test is about the world—both continents of the Nine Heavens and the Xuanji, the two great cities, and the nine nations of the Eight Heavens. Geography, customs, the distribution of powers—all covered in a single scroll.”

“The Man Test is actual combat, though the format changes from year to year. Sometimes it’s direct duels, sometimes real-world challenges. The nature of the test is only revealed at the last moment.”

Chong Fan’s explanation was concise and clear, and Jiang Feng understood at once.

So, the Heaven Test was for physical ability, the Earth Test was a written exam with a vast syllabus, and the Man Test was real combat—whether against people or spirit beasts, that remained to be seen.

He frowned. “Isn’t the scope of the Earth Test a bit too broad?”

Chong Fan nodded. “It does sound that way, but in truth, it’s not just about what you already know.”

He spoke at length, explaining further.

The Earth Test lasted three days; most of that time wasn’t spent answering questions, but reading. In other words, all the material that would be tested was assembled in one place, and candidates had three days to read as much as they could.

Only in the final hour of the third day did the actual answering begin.

Jiang Feng considered this. “So, it’s about how much you can read in time. Isn’t that a bit of a gamble? If you happen to read the right section, you’re in luck—otherwise…”

Chong Fan shook his head. “Luck plays a part, of course, but it’s not entirely random. I’m not sure about the specifics—most examinees are vague when they talk about it. It’s hard to sum up.”

All along the way, he shared everything he knew about the exam with Jiang Feng. This had been part of their original agreement; by his nature, he would normally have revealed things bit by bit. But now, Chong Fan spoke without reservation. For some reason, he had a feeling that, having fulfilled his end of the bargain, Jiang Feng would never go back on his word.

After listening, Jiang Feng pondered for a long time, then let out a breath. “We’ll see when the time comes. In any case, getting stronger—that’s the real path forward!”

The mountain road wound downward, rough and uneven, yet he walked it with steady steps.

Chong Fan looked at the back of his head. He couldn’t see Jiang Feng’s face, but he could almost picture the unwavering determination in his eyes.

It was a burning vitality that seemed unquenchable, no matter what tried to bring him down, no matter what tried to shake his resolve.

Chong Fan sighed softly, touched the edge of the bamboo basket, and sat down.

…

“Finest water-rhinoceros hide—one meter square, ideal for inner armor!”

“Two moon-lynx pearls! Just ten silver coins each!”

“Buying wood-element core fragments—five silver per piece, the more the better!”

…

It was Jiang Feng’s first time at the Half-Moon Market, and he was immediately drawn in by the lively atmosphere. For martial cultivators, such markets were not merely a place for trade, but also a gateway to the broader world of martial society.

Family clans like the Northern Jiang had their own systems, but for those who were unaffiliated, markets like this were vital.

Chong Fan remembered his earlier promise. He looked around, then said to Jiang Feng, “I’ll walk around and get a sense of things here. I’ll make sure to get you a good price for your goods.”

He spoke with great seriousness, and Jiang Feng smiled. “Alright, I leave it to you!”

They agreed to split up and meet again later.

While Chong Fan strolled along the stalls, Jiang Feng was drawn by the conversation of two men ahead.

One burly fellow, puffing on a crude cigarette, said excitedly to his companion, “Did you hear? The wall of Zhuyang City has collapsed—the king is furious!”

Zhuyang City?

The half-familiar name flashed through Jiang Feng’s mind, and then he recalled it—Zhuyang City was the name of the inner city of Zhu Kingdom’s capital, residence of the king and the nobility.

The Kingdom’s most revered teacher, Master Fuliu, also lived there.

The city wall had collapsed?

Then she… Could she be in danger?

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