Chapter 467: The Academy of Da Qi: Once Heard, Never Forgotten!

He Xiao henceforth dared not slack off in his studies, for this was an order from Xie Yuan; should he learn of any laziness or deceit, there would be no good outcome.

The two of them came to study with generous daily stipends, a coveted post envied by all the scholars in the academy.

Time slipped by, and half a month passed.

Zhang and He discovered that this young master Xie was approachable and spoke with remarkable insight.

Zhang Yuan studied diligently, citing classics and often articulating profound principles; he had once been an auditor at the Imperial Academy and was well-versed in the court's factions, noble families, official ranks, and imperial examination regulations.

He Xiao, though cunning in character, was remarkably talkative, able to discourse at length on the sights of Bianjing, courtesans and singers, anecdotes of famous scholars, down to peddlers, Jianghu trivia, and demonic affairs across the thirteen provinces.

As you read, you would ask about unclear points, and the two never withheld knowledge—they answered fully and without reservation.

The truths in books cannot be grasped by reading once; there is no need to hoard them.

What is on paper remains shallow.

If later someone learned that this young master of the Xie family had been misled by the two of you, it would tarnish your own reputations.

You have long dwelled in this small courtyard, rarely hearing of the outside world; what they described was precisely the knowledge you lacked.

Both men spoke with deep reverence for the "academy" founded by the Master; every scholar in Da Qi regarded entry into the academy as the ultimate aspiration of their lives.

To enter the academy ensures smooth progress, whether in official career or scholarly achievement.

Yet even today, though the Master has only four disciples, he has accepted no more than a dozen students in total.

The academy's rules are strict: to enter and cultivate, one must first gain the approval of the Master's disciples.

Though the academy has only six stories, its library is vast, containing not only Confucian classics but also rare, privately collected manuscripts gathered by the Master himself.

Above the fourth floor lies the repository of cultivation techniques.

Zhang Yuan and He Xiao both came from modest families; now in their thirties, they had yet to begin cultivation.

The world's cultivation paths fall into two: martial cultivation and the path of the primordial spirit. As for which path the Master follows—or whether he masters both—it remains a mystery known to none.

When the Master emerged into the world, he already subdued all under heaven.

The demonic threats the two men complained of in the thirteen provinces originated from a cataclysm fifteen hundred years ago, when demonic seeds first began to sprout.

Historical records state that the last emperor of the Tang Dynasty, the Fiery Emperor, boiled his own crown prince into meat broth to serve his favorite concubine, the fox maiden, giving birth to an ill-omened heir.

This act enraged heaven, triggering the celestial phenomenon of a heavenly dog devouring the sun.

At that time, demons arose in every province; beasts in the mountains became spirits, great marshes saw dragons and serpents exhaling primordial energy, eventually becoming regional scourges.

To this day, these demonic seeds have taken root across the land, forming several powerful factions.

The father of Xie Guan once quelled the demonic uprising, earning glorious military merit.

Demons also exist within Da Qi; according to He Xiao, the imperial court has appointed the Office of the Hidden Divine to manage demonic territories, even employing demonic breeds among its ranks.

Another tale: long ago, in Dezehu, a half-demon general cultivated the martial realm of "Xuan Dan," the pinnacle of martial cultivation, then led a rebellion, transforming his body into scaled dragon form, commanding tens of thousands of demonic soldiers to ravage neighboring counties and prefectures, devouring flesh and drinking blood, leaving hundreds of thousands dead or wounded.

The Master, upon hearing of it, flew into a rage, stepped out of the academy, took up a ruler, and marched to Dezehu; purple qi stretched a thousand li eastward, and wherever he passed, demons fell in droves, suffering catastrophic losses.

The demonic general of Xuan Dan never even saw the Master's face—he was forced to kneel beneath the waters of Dezehu by the Master's mere aura.

In the end, the demonic general of Dezehu took his own life to atone; otherwise, the demonic races of Dezehu would have faced annihilation.

The world fears Da Qi not only because it commands a million soldiers, but also for another reason.

As long as the Master is in Da Qi, Da Qi endures.

The people of Da Qi revere the Master far more than they revere the emperor; without the Master's recognition, the emperor's legitimacy is questionable.

Alas, two hundred years ago, the Master sailed out to seek immortals and has not returned, allowing imperial in-laws to seize power and nine great clans to rise.

In the past, the Master personally selected the crown prince; it was precisely because of this that Da Qi endured a thousand years, producing one wise ruler after another.

If a foolish ruler arose, the Master would punish him; every emperor had been scolded, struck on the palm, or beaten with the ruler.

Hearing Zhang and He's words, you finally understood the Master's and the academy's status—not just in Da Qi, but across the entire world.

This world has no gods—only the Master of the academy.

You asked: "Who now runs the academy?"

Zhang Yuan's face showed hesitation.

He Xiao, however, spoke without restraint: "The First Master left Da Sui in anger a century ago; the Second Master is gravely ill; the academy's affairs are now managed by the Third Master."

"Moreover, Su Jing and the academy seem… at odds."

Su Jing is the Master's fourth disciple!

He Xiao lowered his voice as he spoke the last two words.

You were inwardly startled: Da Qi and Da Sui were bitter enemies, having stood as rivals for nearly two centuries, utterly hostile.

The academy's First Master—the Master's eldest disciple—had gone to Da Sui.

Now, the Second Master lies ill, the Third Master maintains the academy's operations, and the Fourth Master controls Da Qi's court.

The rift between the Third and Fourth Masters mirrors the conflict between Da Qi's court and the academy.

Zhang Yuan sighed deeply: "In days of old, Da Qi dominated the world; though not the universal sovereign, it already displayed extraordinary grandeur. All neighboring states revered Da Qi's culture and yearned for its prosperity."

He Xiao listened to Zhang Yuan's lament but paid no mind; instead, he asked: "Young Master Guan, can you truly remember every word of the books we've read to you?"

He still could not determine whether your previous feat was mere chance—or if it truly happened—and he harbored a touch of skepticism.

After all, even when they read themselves, they often forgot where they had left off after just one reading—how much less could a listener possibly retain it?

You smiled calmly: "It seems Master He intends to test me."

He Xiao quickly denied: "No, no, never."

"It's merely a way to review and gain new insights. Master He, please ask your questions."

He Xiao did not hesitate, opened the Book of Tang, and asked: "Where was Zuo Kai from?"

"Zuo Kai, style name Bo Hao, was from Nieyang in Nanyang. During Emperor An's reign, he was recommended as a filial and incorrupt official, later promoted to Inspector of Jizhou. The province was full of powerful clans who frequently sought favors; Zuo Kai always closed his door and refused all contact."

He Xiao asked: "Was the stone tablet erected by a Western Traveler or an Eastern Traveler?"

"During the reign of Emperor Xi, in how many years did Mars enter the Southern Dipper?"

"How many households were there in Huabei Commandery?"

A series of questions—on people, geography, even astronomy.

Zhang Yuan listened closely and tried to recall; he found he could answer only a few, and even those vaguely.

You answered slowly, one question after another.

"... ix hundred and fifty li southeast of Bianjing. Thirty-seven cities, four hundred thousand four hundred forty-eight households, two million one hundred seven hundred eighty-eight souls."

He Xiao stared at the text, comparing your answer word for word—and was astonished to find you had repeated it flawlessly.

From the Four States' Zuo Commentary to the Sacred Words, the Doctrine of the Mean, and even portions of the Book of Songs, the two had finished reading—all failed to stump you.

Later, Zhang Yuan joined in, firing question after question like a volley of cannonballs.

You answered each without hesitation, calmly and precisely, with almost no error—unless the two had misread the text themselves.

You could even quote the original passages to explain the reasons behind later passages.

They put down the books and stared at each other, faces filled with astonishment.

Zhang Yuan could not help exclaiming: "I've heard of those with photographic memory—but I never imagined Young Master Guan possesses an 'over-ear-not-forget' ability! Truly, heaven has gifted you!"

His tone held envy: "When I first began studying, I toiled for three years under the cold lamp—and still I cannot match the effect of half a month of your listening."

You replied with a jest: "This method sounds excellent—why don't you try it too? Blind yourselves first, then wear blindfolds and sit still for months; perhaps you'll cultivate this divine skill."

The two immediately waved their hands, laughing helplessly.

Time passed swiftly; snow had whitened the branches, another month slipped away, and the New Year drew near.

Within the Xie Fu, lanterns hung everywhere, the air thick with festivity.

Every year at New Year, Second Lord Xie Hong returned from Qingliang Temple, and the second compound erupted in celebration.

The matriarch was delighted, and even the servants wore smiles.

Your father, Xie Yun, guarded the border against Da Sui and would not return home.

Yet this festive atmosphere seemed unrelated to your small courtyard since your name was entered into the clan register.

Each year, during the family New Year's Eve banquet, you were never invited; only a servant brought you a meal, and you spent the night alone in your courtyard.

You did not care—as long as Wu Tong was with you, it was enough.

Though monotonous, your days were steady and fulfilling; Zhang and He read daily without pause, and most Confucian classics had been completed.

By month's end, Hua An would examine your eyes and remove the eye bandages.

Hua An remained cautious and decided to wait until after the New Year to remove them for safety; you readily agreed.

Once the bandages were off, no one would be able to read to you anymore.

Zhang and He were pleased—it was merely a leisurely task, and their daily silver stipend was generous.

At year's end, Dong, the tutor assigned to your early education, had to postpone lessons due to family matters, and the other tutor outright claimed illness.

Wu Tong whispered complaints but could do nothing, only worried that your studies would be delayed.

Only after next year's academic assessment will Madam Yuan of the main compound permit your enrollment.

Zhang Yuan and He Xiao comforted you: "With your current knowledge, passing next year's assessment will be effortless—no need to worry."

Wu Tong finally relaxed.

Days passed slowly; three days remained until New Year's Eve.

…

…

Today, heavy snow fell, blanketing the entire Bianjing.

The snow fell heavily.

Zhang Yuan and He Xiao ended today's reading early, walking along the snow-covered path of the Xie Fu toward the courtyard of Xie Yuan.

"A blessed snow heralds a bountiful year!"

Zhang Yuanlai gazed at the swirling snowflakes and sighed, "This year's snow came early—and it's thick too."

"What does this heavy snow resemble?"

He Xiao felt no such sentiment and said nothing in reply.

He looked up at the gloomy sky; the hour was still early.

All he needed to do was return to the courtyard and check—if all was quiet, today would be free and pleasant.

"Brother Zhang, it's bitterly cold today. Why not go to Xifeng Tower for some hot soup?"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Yuanlai immediately refused:

"Brother He, you go. I won't be joining."

He Xiao let out an "Oh!" and teased:

"Are you going to the southern courtyard lanes of Suining Street?"

Zhang Yuanlai shook his head vigorously and denied: "Brother He, don't tease me."

Xifeng Tower was a brothel in Bianjing.

Brothels there sold art, not bodies; to spend a night of spring with a courtesan cost a thousand taels—and one had to earn it through talent.

One needed more than just lineage; one needed literary grace.

Only those with both birth and talent could be chosen by the courtesans known as "Red Plaques," "Masters," "Pure Maidens," or "Flower Queens."

If one truly became a "patron," one's name would ring through Bianjing—and the idle scions of the Nine Surnames were most addicted to such places.

He Xiao had once exchanged glances with a female musician at Xifeng Tower.

The "musician" moved with exquisite grace and played the qin with superb skill; after her final note, she and He Xiao had pressed beneath a crabapple tree in the tower, leaving behind crimson stains—still a favorite tale among He's friends.

But the "courtyard lanes" He Xiao had just mentioned to the south were an entirely different scene.

Most of those who lived there were women, standing at street corners or leaning against doorways, using every means to lure passersby.

Though they called themselves "respectable families," they were no different from prostitutes.

Unlike Xifeng Tower, these women cared nothing for a client's talent or birth—they cared only whether his purse was full.

As long as a client offered enough silver, they would throw themselves into his arms without hesitation and satisfy any desire.

He Xiao was a regular; once, a woman at her window dropped a red fur cloak onto his shoulder. She gazed at him with longing—her husband stood five feet tall at home—and the mood was electric. They burned together, and he still returned.

Naturally, he paid in silver.

If he didn't pay, these women would make a scene in the courtyard—it was unthinkable, a disgrace in the eyes of literati.

He Xiao laughed: "The Master said, 'Food and sex are human nature.' Brother Zhang, you're clinging to appearances."

Zhang Yuanlai sighed: "The Master said, 'Food and sex are human nature.'"

He Xiao burst into laughter—but then abruptly fell silent as Xie Yuan approached with a retinue of servants and entertainers.

His laughter cut off, looking absurd.

"Your Excellency, Wo Yun!"

The two dared not delay.

Xie Yuan halted, and all his followers stood behind him—including Xie Hou'er.

Xie Yuan looked at them in puzzlement: "He, Zhang—why are you back so early from Guan's place today?"

He Xiao hurried to explain: "Young Master Guan said the heavy snow meant we should return early—the roads would be treacherous."

Xie Yuan nodded, smiling; his mood seemed unusually good.

"Did you read to Guan today? Did he fall asleep?"

He Xiao said: "Young Master Guan is exceptionally gifted—he remembers everything he reads."

Zhang Yuanlai corrected: "He remembers everything he hears!"

Xie Yuan rolled his eyes: "He's got some talent, but all he does is read—how vulgar."

The two said nothing.

Xie Yuan smiled: "Fine. Since you two are free today, come with me to see Guan again. I've practiced a few new tricks—I'll challenge him once more."

Sorry, sorry, sorry! We didn't update two chapters today due to a delay—we didn't finish writing them, but we'll make up for it tomorrow for our esteemed patrons.

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(Chapter End)