Chapter 343: The Legitimacy of Gaining the State: Outlining the Great History of the Nation

Outside the city of Shenzhou.

At the bridge, the caravans of the four nations gathered together.

The students from Daqing and Qianyuan mingled harmoniously in a group.

But Chu and Han had split into two factions, avoiding each other entirely.

In days past!

When Qianyuan's army advanced, smashing through defenses like bamboo split by a blade, Han and Chu, forced by circumstance, joined hands to resist the powerful foe—their alliance was merely a temporary expedient.

Now, times have changed; the two nations govern separately, their strength growing daily, free from external threats, and long ago, tensions began to fester.

Within their borders, whispers multiplied!

"The Chu people have hearts higher than the heavens, wolfish ambitions—deal with them, but always guard your life."

"Hmph, the Chu are overconfident, narrow-minded."

Chu often proclaims itself the orthodox heir of Confucianism, looking down upon foreign students.

The question of who truly owns the founding ancestor of Confucianism—the "Sage of Sages"—has been an unchanging point of contention between Han and Chu since ancient times.

The Han people insist, with certainty, that this sage who laid Confucianism's foundations was in fact a noble of Han, merely traveling to Chu to establish its scholarly lineage.

Chu, unwilling to yield, claims Han drove the Confucian sage from their land—an act of betrayal—and thus Han is no longer the true orthodox of Confucianism.

That was the Warring States era, when a hundred schools of thought contended; though Confucianism was prominent, it was not valued by rulers.

The Warring States revered military might and strategy, promoting hegemony.

They sneered at Confucianism's ideals of "benevolence" and "ritual" as methods of governance.

In the end, the sage who founded Confucianism, later called Master, spent his old age establishing the White Deer Academy, and until his death, he still thought of Han.

Later, when the Warring States ended and the seven kingdoms stood in balance, rulers began to govern using Confucian thought.

Graduates from the White Deer Academy began to hold high offices in every kingdom.

Confucianism flourished across the land, and the White Deer Academy was thus revered as the orthodox source of all Confucian learning.

At this moment!

Wu Long, the third prince of Qianyuan, stood at the bridge's edge, his gaze sweeping over the group of confident Chu students and the high-ranking Xun Li, showing not a hint of greeting.

A faint, inexplicable sneer curled his lips.

Wu Long despised this nation in his heart—a country ruled by a swarm of Confucian "parasites," with the monarch reduced to a puppet.

Holding the Son of Heaven hostage, treating the realm as their private estate!

And they call it "harmony between ruler and minister"—nothing but a band of traitors stealing the state.

He strode directly toward the small island in the river!

Xie Chunan and the two women, along with Zou Lin, followed Wu Long without hesitation.

Between Han and Chu, in a choice of two, they naturally chose the stronger power: Qianyuan.

Inside a pavilion nearby.

Xun Li, in blue Confucian robes, elegant and poised, felt Wu Long's piercing gaze but kept his expression unchanged.

Beside Xun Li stood Gong Sun Jixia.

This scion of Chu's Gong Sun family, the noble heir of Chu's foremost clan, possessed perfect looks and bearing, adored by countless women in Chu.

Even the young princes of Chu's imperial palace addressed Gong Sun Jixia respectfully as "elder brother."

Such was the power of the Gong Sun family!

He watched the retreating backs of Wu Long and his party, his brow slightly furrowed, a quiet unease stirring within him.

With all four nations gathered, yet the other three kept their distance from Chu—this situation filled him with unease.

He asked slowly:

"Master Xun, should we go…?"

Xun Li, the favored disciple of Gong Sun Zhongshu, had once, before reaching adulthood, opened his own lecture hall at the White Deer Academy to teach the classics—a marvel of the school.

Xun Li smiled after hearing this:

"The Han people's heart has always been separated from ours by a river—they will remain a threat. This is a truth every Chu person knows."

"Even the noblest host should not press his warmth against another's cold hearth—why invite trouble?"

Gong Sun Jixia frowned slightly, as if grasping something, yet could not help pressing further:

"Did we not once, in our own past, use the strategy of horizontal and vertical alliances, maneuvering among the states? Master Xun, you were once a staunch advocate of this very strategy."

"Chu may be strong now, but can it stand alone against all nations?"

Xun Li smiled more broadly, speaking slowly: "Life is like a game of go. Past strategies may not suit the present. Ten years ago, Qianyuan was powerful; Han and Chu united for self-preservation."

"Today, everything has changed—it cannot be judged by the same standard."

"Back then, the Master advocated benevolence and ritual, but kings dismissed it as a recipe for chaos, saying a state that promotes benevolence becomes meat for others to devour."

"Yet they did not understand: a noble man can also benefit the whole world!"

Gong Sun Jixia felt even more confused after hearing this.

When several strong men wrestle, and each knows he cannot win alone, should he not seek allies to repel common enemies?

This logic is clear—so why does Master Xun say there is no need to rush?

Xun Li gazed at the distant city of Yan, and said slowly:

"Once the King of Yan declares himself emperor, you will understand my words today."

Gong Sun Jixia nodded slowly.

The King of Yan's declaration of emperorship had stirred ripples among the four nations.

As he walked through Yan's lands, doubt filled his heart.

Though the people here lived in peace and plenty, their thoughts seemed strange, as if detached from all schools of thought.

They did not revere Confucianism, Buddhism, or Daoism!

They did not strengthen royal authority; instead, they fragmented their own power, establishing multiple provincial governors and councils.

In effect, they were delegating authority down to ordinary people.

Though the people lived in peace, their ideas were truly alien.

Now, Yan's state was built upon land once belonging to Daqing.

Was this King of Yan's rise to power legitimate?

He was born into the Gong Sun family, yet controlled the entire nation's military and administration.

But!

The Gong Sun family had passed down a family precept through generations:

"Do not establish a state. Do not declare yourself emperor!"

Gong Sun Jixia said no more, but his gaze kept returning to the small island in the river.

The leaders of the three embassies had all gathered here—what thoughts did the Han princess, who had studied at the White Deer Academy in Chu, hold at this moment?

At this moment!

On the small island in the river.

Near the central stone carving, by the railing, several people met.

No tension, no hostility—just casual conversation, as if meeting old friends.

"Li Qian, greetings, Your Highness!"

Wu Long studied the Han princess, renowned throughout the four nations for her wisdom; entrusting such a vital mission to her proved her ability.

Beside her stood only one maid and seven or eight guards—no other protection.

To travel alone among four nations—her courage was undeniable.

He always held a certain respect for women, perhaps because Qianyuan's female emperor had given him a new understanding of the word "daughter."

"Princess, you are too kind."

All were from different nations; their meeting required no formal bows.

Yu Wen Li Qian noticed the men behind Wu Long.

Especially the woman named Xie Lingxuan.

She was impossible to ignore—her face like jade flowers, her features radiant as spring blossoms, her figure exquisitely graceful.

Yu Wen Li Qian smiled: "Sister, you must be the top courtesan of Yanzhou?"

She had expected the woman, rumored to be quite old, to carry the demeanor of a matron—yet she was stunningly beautiful.

Like a girl just turned twenty!

Xie Lingxuan bowed gracefully, her voice soft as jade:

"Xie Lingxuan greets Your Highness."

"Your Highness flatters me."

Her beauty was simply too astonishing.

Even Yu Wen Li Qian's maid was startled—the princess was already exceedingly beautiful, yet could not compare.

A faint, smoke-like sorrow lingered in the woman's eyes, stirring deep pity.

The maid could not help wondering inwardly: how could such a woman have any troubles?

Xie Chunan's gaze lingered on Yu Wen Li Qian's face for a moment, then he bowed respectfully:

"Xie Chunan, pays his respects to Your Highness."

Yu Wen Li Qian smiled in reply: "Master Xie, no need for such formality."

As they spoke, the group exchanged pleasantries.

Yuwen Liqian spoke calmly, having long heard of Xie Chunan's reputation for "unerring divination" during her time in Han.

Unexpectedly, Xie Chunan replied with a self-deprecating smile: "I have become famous among the states not for statecraft or governance, but for street-corner fortune-telling—truly unforeseen."

Beside them, Wu Long interjected at the right moment: "Princess, why not ask Master Xie to read your destiny?"

Wu Long had traveled this far with Xie Chunan because he had long been deeply fascinated by this art.

It was a wandering Daoist who once saw the true dragon's bearing in Wu Ying, and Wu Long had not hesitated—he placed his bet early, before Wu Ying had risen to power.

Yuwen Liqian shook her head slightly, holding a detached view toward spirits and gods.

Emperor Huizong, obsessed with Daoism, entrusted state affairs to Daoists, ultimately leading to the nation's decline.

In her view, "Ask heaven, not the people," was false—only by truly understanding the people's condition could a state be governed well.

As for her own destiny, it was tied to Han—born into the imperial family, honored by its title, she must bear its burdens.

Hearing this, Xie Chunan stroked his beard and smiled, yet could not help praising:

"Princess, your eyes are like those of a dragon, your neck like a phoenix's, your forehead broad and your jaw wide—your nobility is beyond words to describe."

The maid beside her silently thought otherwise, dismissing Xie Chunan's words as nonsense, already labeling him a street conman.

Her mistress was a princess of a kingdom, a golden body—of course, her nobility was beyond words.

In the Han palace, fortune-tellers often came and went, predicting auspiciousness and misfortune for the king; all one needed was clever words to earn rich rewards.

She never believed it—if true gods and Buddhas existed,

they would first protect the monks who ate vegetarian meals and chanted sutras day and night.

Xie Lingxuan seemed to sense the deeper meaning, and cast another glance at the princess.

Du Hui, beside Yuwen Liqian, smiled and spoke:

"Master Xie, why not read mine as well?"

Xie Chunan looked at this lone figure from Chu—the scholar of Bai Lu Academy.

Then he smiled:

"Master Du, look northward."

Du Hui heard him but took no notice.

Wu Long's gaze turned to the stone statue, his eyes filled with solemn reflection:

"This Prince of Yan, at only twenty-six, had already stirred the world—truly a young hero, worthy of admiration."

"I often wonder—if I could ever face him on the battlefield, it would make a glorious tale."

Wu Long's words revealed the confidence of a seasoned general—he knew well.

The glorious victories of the Lu Army were no idle rumor; the feats of eight thousand defeating thirty thousand, eighty thousand defeating four hundred thousand, were forged in the blood and lives of countless soldiers—not mere romanticized tales penned by scholars.

Gazing at the statue before him, Wu Long's thoughts drifted to the coming meeting with the Prince of Yan.

Suddenly, he asked in a low voice, his tone heavy with meaning:

"Is the Prince of Yan's path to the throne truly upright, in harmony with Heaven's will and the people's heart?"

In other words—is his claim to power legitimate?

History is full of usurpers: trusted regents who, taking advantage of a weak monarch and a crumbling state, seized power.

Or rulers of the Warring States, misled by slander, convinced by three men claiming a man was virtuous and talented, and thus should abdicate—finally deceived into abdicating by traitors.

That is illegitimate ascension!

Yet there are those who rose with righteousness: like the founding emperor of Daqing, who rose from a humble refugee and built Daqing's empire with his own strength.

Or the Wu clan of Qianyuan, who rose from a tribal origin, waged wars across the land, and ultimately achieved greatness.

At these words, silence fell over the group.

Lu Chen, once a minister of Daqing, had eaten the ruler's grain.

What then was he?

Xie Lingxuan spoke softly, her voice firm:

"His claim to power is legitimate—it is the will of the people, an undeniable truth."

Hearing this, Yuwen Liqian recalled the exquisite beauty on the Vermilion List and her tangled ties with the Prince of Yan.

The betrothal.

The resolute words from Mount Zhongnan: "How could I, Lu Chen, ever be worthy of you!"

It had added to the Prince of Yan's reputation for coldness.

Now it seemed this Miss Xie had not forgotten Lu Chen after all—the rumors were true.

Xie Chunan remained silent; as a high minister of Daqing, he knew it was unwise to speak freely here and now.

Yuwen Liqian also reflected: the Prince of Yan's march on the capital had installed the new emperor, yet his killing of the former emperor and empress dowager remained a stain.

It was disloyalty!

As the group fell silent, Wu Long prepared to move past the topic.

A withered voice came from behind:

"The Young Protector's claim to power is utterly legitimate—beyond doubt."

Several turned to look.

Turning their heads, they saw an old man in plain white robes standing behind Xie Chunan.

Zou Lin!

He was not only a grand master of weiqi, but had accompanied Xie Chunan on this journey through Yan territory under another identity.

The Zou family had served as historians for generations and had helped compile the official outline of Daqing's state history.

All turned to look at him.

Here were a Qianyuan prince, a Han princess, and a high minister of Daqing.

Wu Long's face showed keen interest—he was curious how a Daqing man would judge the Prince of Yan.

The old man showed no unease under their gazes; his eyes fixed on the statues carved with the young Young Protector's likeness.

As if he heard again the clashing of swords and spears, the flames of war, the cries of children.

"In the twentieth year of Yongxiang, the northern wind surged southward, sweeping across the entire north, from Yanzhou all the way to the gates of Hulao Pass, unstoppable."

The old man's voice was filled with nostalgia: "The emperor was captured, the empress humiliated, the new emperor fled the city, and the entire court vanished—only commoners, dragging their families, remained."

"We were truly driven to the brink: the people and soldiers of Yunzhou fought to the death, the streets emptied, a hundred li without a single rooster's crow—everyone had been killed!"

"The Battle of Fengcheng, the Campaign of Yi River, the Battle of Langya City… each defeat was a heavy chain choking Daqing."

"The backbone was broken. Countless righteous armies charged forward, yet none could halt the northern wind's iron hooves—no hope remained. The northern army burned, slaughtered, and looted; the land was strewn with corpses of innocent civilians; the entire nation was shrouded in despair."

"The whole realm trembled; nearly everyone believed victory impossible. Forty thousand northern troops pressed upon us, while in Guanzhong, our only force numbered four thousand."

"Beyond Hulao Pass lay the south—no natural defenses."

"The entire world… was hopeless."

Here, Zou Lin's voice trembled slightly.

"Even I had lost hope—I hid with my daughter in a remote southern village, writing the State History Outline day and night. At that time, I resolved to write Daqing's final history, hoping that even if Daqing fell and perished, future generations might learn through my pen that Daqing had once existed."

"Yet!"

"That autumn, the Young Protector turned twenty—and emerged from nowhere."

(End of Chapter)