Chapter 657

Wei Capital

Ninefold Cloud Terrace

The literati of the Great Wei were elegant, valuing purity and grace; in architecture, clothing, etc., they favored light colors such as blue, white, and gray. The color blood-red, which the Wei literati considered inauspicious and clashing, was used only in the most urgent military orders.

Xiahou Rulong

This King

Old Master

Kong Chengxi

Lao Kong

The youth, whose skin was white and delicate, like fine jade, was just like those men—bare-armed, swinging a lasso about as thick as his arm… Amid the teasing laughter of the big men, the youth spurred his horse into a gallop, his handsome face glowing with a captivating vitality.

Grand Righteousness

Nine-layer White Jade Terrace

Eighteen-layer Bronze Wine Tower

"I, Xiahou Long, declare that this shall be the eternal refuge of this king." The pale-skinned youth bowed his head, and among the nomadic girls equally stunned, a flower-like beautiful girl smiled and nodded: "Wait for me; the king's promise will not change; the king will come to marry you… the king said he would let the present divine sovereign be our wedding officiant!"

Xiahou Rulong stepped forward, each step spanning the territory of a prefecture, each step leaving an enormous golden footprint in the void, and thus he walked step by step toward the Wei Capital.

In the southwest of Great Wei lay an enormous lake; by its shore, in a fishing village, inside a crude thatched hut, an old man with disheveled long hair and silver-white beard flowing over his chest, his bearing steady and solemn, held a scroll in his right hand and a ruler in his left, swaying as he chanted the poems.

"The sound of wind and rain last night……"

The old master drew out his voice, reciting each character one by one.

"The sound of wind and rain last night……"

Inside the thatched hut, over a hundred children from the nearby seven or eight fishing villages tightly grasped scrolls made of wooden slats, shouting at the top of their lungs, imitating the old master's manner, swaying as they followed him, reciting each word and sentence.

"How many flowers have fallen……"

The old master wore a smile, nodding vigorously.

"How beautiful, how beautiful, such a splendid and magnificent verse—simple yet enduring… it carries a great power that seeps into the soul."

The old master slightly closed his eyes; two tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, tracing down his clean cheeks. Each time he recited these poems, which had barely survived from the primordial mythic era, the old man would be moved to tears.

He seemed able, through these words, to behold those towering, magnificent beings standing at the pinnacle of literature.

"How many flowers have fallen……"

The children likewise swayed, immersed, following him in reciting the verses.

Outside the thatched hut, beneath a row of sheds, large stone slabs were neatly arranged; dozens of slightly older village youths held brushes, tracing strokes on the slabs with water, copying the books.

Copying not only deepens memory but also hones calligraphy.

As the person, so the script; one whose heart bears literary elegance will surely have writing that is upright and outstanding, handsome and extraordinary.

Thus, the old master has run a school here for decades; his students, no matter their current official rank, each possess a calligraphy that can be called transcendent among the surrounding prefectures.

The old master set down the scroll, smiled at the children inside the hut, then glanced at the youths beneath the sheds.

At any time, the transmission of civilization… the beauty of writing, the soul of writing… the old master has lived many years, many years; in his youth he would also contend with others over lust, power, wealth, and family interests.

But gradually he discovered the true, pure, ultimate beauty and power in the world.

Thus he wandered the world, establishing schools everywhere, passing on writing and civilization to those children at the bottom of society.

After thousands of years of wandering and establishing dozens of schools, unnoticed, the old master's state of mind soared, his strength surged, and his mind became ever more tranquil and humble…

A mysterious aura was brewing in his chest; the old master had an epiphany—perhaps the Vast Righteous Qi, which no one in the countless years since the founding of Great Wei had managed to cultivate, he had already grasped a hint of its path.

The Great Dao lay before him, and every cell of the old master's body felt immense joy.

A faint bell rang from afar, and the clouds in the sky suddenly took on a hint of blood-red.

The old master's countenance abruptly changed; he lifted his gaze to the sky, then slowly drew out scroll after scroll from his sleeves and placed them solemnly on the crude wooden table before him.

He instructed the two disciples who had been under his care these years, sitting behind him: "Look after the young ones, make them study earnestly… In this world, fighting and killing are hardly the proper way. The Dao lies in books, in the heart."

"Remember, remember, if one is not dead, one must read."

"Reading clarifies principle, reveals nature; it is because of reading that humanity transcends beasts and becomes the foremost of all spirits."

"So, regardless of wind or rain outside, regardless of swords and halberds like a forest, arrows like rain—read, and pass on the books." The old master rose, chuckled, and gave a nod to the two somewhat bewildered disciples: "I am Kong Chengxi."

With a sweep of his sleeves, a surge of literary ink qi shot straight into the heavens; the old master glanced toward the Wei Capital and said in a low voice: "No matter what, my library stands over there—no one dare move a single sheet of paper."

Where the wind blew, the figures dispersed; the old master had already vanished without a trace.

Just across from this lake, in a newly opened prefectural seat of Great Wei that is less than two hundred years old, the marketplaces already show considerable prosperity; countless caravans bustle to and fro in the city, bringing countless people and countless riches.

At the heart of the city, upon a nine-tiered white jade platform stands an eighteen‑story bronze tavern, entirely gilded, its brilliant gold light towering over the jade base; the tavern's tower‑like form exudes a soaring ambition.

Countless flower‑like girls laugh and play inside the tavern; countless wealthy patrons squander money like dirt, the scent of wine and meat drifting on the wind for a hundred li—even at night one can see the dazzling gleam of pearls, candlelight, and various rare treasures emanating from within the tavern.

"White Jade Terrace, Golden Tower"—this is the newly opened prefectural seat's most elite pleasure den and soul‑trap to have emerged in the past century, offering the finest delicacies, the strongest liquor, the most beautiful women, and the most fickle of hearts.

Here, grudges and passions play out at any moment, violence and bloodshed erupt without warning; people die daily—by death, suicide, or murder—this place is a lawless zone beyond the reach of Great Wei's royal law.

Each day it brims with the qi of the seven emotions and six desires, overflowing with boundless lust and ambition.

Every day, in the highest chamber of this building, a youth clad in a azure great cloak, handsome as a deity, sits enthroned on a high platform, looking down upon the men and women, the bustling crowd, as they enact scene after scene of joy and sorrow, parting and death.

He wears a smile; in his pupils are reflected the silhouettes of everyone in the tavern—their thoughts, their actions, their fates, every dark or bright notion in their hearts—all laid bare before his eyes.

"Is human nature evil? Is it good? Good and evil? Man, ghost?"

The youth smiled as he watched a girl being dragged into a room by a bearded ruffian, then saw that same bearded ruffian hauled out by several burly men and hacked into chunks of meat; he watched the ruffian's underlings storm the tavern and clash with those burly men.

Such spectacles are performed here every day.

This is a lawless zone; each day dozens to hundreds of corpses are tossed out of the Golden Tower, yet the local authorities simply cannot be bothered.

A bell tolled from the distant heavens; the youth rose, walked to the bedside, and gazed toward the fishing village. He saw a stream of literary ink qi shoot up into the sky, then swiftly rush toward the Wei Capital.

"Old Kong… what's the point of teaching?"

"The vicissitudes of the red dust, the refining of the heart in the red dust—we mortals are fundamentally amidst this myriad of beings."

However, it seems your cultivation has made great progress? However, I, Meng Buyan, am not inferior to you either... Heh, heh heh, a war to destroy a nation? How much turmoil and displacement, how many ruined families and shattered homes... How wonderful, the human heart, should be like a furnace; only in the moment of a nation's destruction can the most splendid drama be performed.

The young Meng Buyan laughed loudly, and the Golden Tower shuddered violently; all those inside who were considered wicked in the ordinary sense had their flesh and bones turn to mud at that moment, then vanished as flying ash without a trace.

In the midst of his laughter, Meng Buyan's flesh writhed, transforming into a five-clawed yellow dragon that swayed its head and tail as it flew toward the Wei Capital.

The yellow dragon soared into the high heavens, and Meng Buyan glanced toward the west.

In the far western reaches of the Great Wei's frontier lies an endless sea, its waves surging; upon the ocean where even flat water reaches three thousand zhang in height, a dragon-whale tens of thousands of zhang long roars loudly, dragging an extraordinarily splendid giant tower ship as it breaks through the waves and speeds forward.

On the bow of the tower ship stood a platform where seven men, bare-chested, with disheveled hair and beards, behaving wildly, held jugs, jars, pots, and vats of liquor, gulping it down with loud 'heehee haha' and chanting poems and songs that outsiders could not understand.

Occasionally, a sea monster would attack, aiming to strike the dragon-whale pulling their ship or to kill the men aboard; these few men would wave a hand, and any monstrous beast tens of thousands of zhang in size would instantly shatter.

"Go rest, go rest—are there fairy mountains overseas?" a man with disheveled hair, naked, stood on the bow waving his arms and shouting loudly: "On the fairy mountain, are there fairies? That fairy might hold a pipa reversed, dancing wildly in the sky."

"What wonders does this heaven and earth hold?"

"Where do all the gods come from?"

"Who opened this heaven? Who built this earth?"

"Why are the sun, moon, and stars illusory like shadows? Why is this heaven-earth universe like a curtain, preventing me from seeing clearly?"

"Damn heaven… answer me… what kind of face do you have?"

"I will ascend to heaven, descend to earth, reach the utmost heights of azure clouds, plumb the depths of the Yellow Springs… In time, old man, I will see you clearly; one day, I will truly perceive your visage."

The other six men clapped in unison, stomped their feet, and loudly clamored in praise.

"How splendid, how splendid… If heaven were a person, could he take a wife? Haha, someday we will confront heaven face to face."

A crowd was engaged in chaotic demonic dancing, hysterically uttering words of great rebellion and absurdity, when a bell tolled, its sound drifting slowly over.

The movements of the seven people stiffened simultaneously.

They raised their heads and gazed toward the direction of the Wei Capital.

"A war to destroy a nation… how has it come to this?"

The seven looked at each other, then shook their heads unwillingly: "Alas, pitiful, lamentable—having gathered the strength of seven families, after great effort expending three thousand years, they forged this cross-sea divine vessel, intending to go to the far side of the sea to examine closely and seek the legendary fairy mountain of the ocean… but alas, alas… mortal bonds are hard to sever, ancestral homes hard to abandon."

An old man whose face was covered in a long, shaggy beard, the beard dangling down to his abdomen, shouted furiously: "Who dares disturb my leisure? He shall be exterminated!"

The seven shouted in unison, retracted the gigantic tower ship, and with a single palm shattered the dragon-whale that towed it into powder, transforming into seven blazing lights of killing intent that shot straight toward the Wei Capital.

Within the Wei Capital City, countless commoners set up incense tables and burners at their doorsteps, lit incense, made offerings, and bowed to heaven.

One after another, massive divine spirit figures rushed back from all directions to the Wei Capital; they had comprehended different heavenly-earthly laws, and the celestial changes they brought varied as well.

At times thunder and lightning flashed; at times furious wind and rain raged; at times clouds and rosy hues filled the sky; at times golden blossoms fell from heaven…

One after another, the gods walked straight into the Imperial City; above the Imperial City a huge thatched canopy was erected, beneath which massive great chairs were set up.

One after another, the towering gods sat upright in the great chairs, emitting terrifying magical fluctuations that covered all directions; the fluctuation of a single god could easily blanket a prefecture, and the combined fluctuations of ten gods could cover the territory of dozens of prefectures.

God after god kept arriving, sitting silently beneath the canopy, their eyes like lightning, looking down in all directions.

When over a thousand gods gathered together, their magical fluctuations surged like a sea, completely covering the entire domain of the Great Wei.

The heavenly phenomena above the Great Wei were completely altered; all seasonal cycles of spring, summer, autumn, and winter were destroyed; above every prefecture of the Great Wei, only a transparent blue sky like washed blue crystal could be seen, in which not a trace of cloud appeared.

The Great Wei Imperial Clan, with over a hundred lineages, had gathered the divine ancient ancestors, totaling one thousand one hundred thirty-eight!

A tremendous roar shot up into the heavens.

Above the heads of six divine ancient ancestors descended from the Great Wei Imperial Clan, six innate spiritual treasures of the level of state-protection divine artifacts rose slowly, emitting boundless light and rosy hues that dyed the void in five colors, as splendid as a kaleidoscope.

"Green Hill, shall be destroyed."

The one thousand one hundred thirty-eight divine ancient ancestors spoke in unison the same words.